Dark clouds pressed low overhead as thunder rumbled without pause.
At the foot of a desolate black‑stone mine, groans rose and fell. Gaunt, scar‑ridden slaves swung their picks like walking corpses, each strike draining the last of their strength. Chains crossed in iron nets; whips hissed like serpents, and every lash left a brand on their doomed lives.
Lin Ye lay sprawled on a heap of ore, blood sliding from his brow into his eyes and blurring his sight. A mine cart had shattered his chest; broken ribs pierced his lungs, and pain surged over him like a tide. Consciousness teetered on the brink of an abyss.
Just as his mind was about to collapse, a cold, alien mechanical voice boomed inside his skull:
“Lethal injury detected. Condition ‘Severely Wounded’ confirmed— ‘Reverse‑Scale System’ activating!”
In an instant, a strange energy burst from his heart meridian, racing through flesh and bone. Pain like tearing steel swept him; every nerve seemed to be reforging, muscle and marrow rearranged by a mysterious power.
Lin Ye’s eyes flew open, pupils blazing with a clarity—and madness—he had never known. Scarlet words floated across his mind:
“Devour condition unlocked: kill creatures containing spiritual energy to gain evolution points.”
“Evolution?” he muttered, a sharp light gathering in his gaze.
“You worthless slug—daring to slack off?”
The overseer stalked closer, iron whip writhing like a viper, and lashed down.
Crack!
The stroke split the air, flinging a spray of blood.
Yet Lin Ye only swayed; the chill in his eyes burned hotter. He shot out a hand and, in mid‑arc, seized the whip.
“You—!” The overseer’s eyes bulged. A heartbeat later, with a brittle snap, the whip shattered link by link.
Lin Ye’s eyes gleamed crimson. He lunged like a tiger; his right fist crashed forward, mountainous and unstoppable, and pulverized the overseer’s throat.
Crunch!
Blood gushed like a spring, splashing half of Lin Ye’s face and spattering the stunned slaves around him.
Silence fell, so deep a pin drop would ring. Every gaze fixed on Lin Ye, as though an evil spirit had risen from a sea of gore.
Panting, he looked down at the twitching corpse without a trace of pity. He bent, hauled the body, and dragged it across jagged stone to the square at the mine’s heart—ground where countless slaves had been whipped, humiliated, and worked to death.
He heaved the bloody head high. His voice was hoarse yet unyielding:
“Anyone who helps persecute us meets this end!”
With a savage fling, the head rolled into the dust; the corpse landed like discarded rags.
Some slaves gasped and recoiled, others dropped trembling to their knees, but in many eyes a light of hope flared for the first time.
Lin Ye turned away, his stare a driven nail, locking onto the mine’s deepest shaft.
From within came a pulse of energy uncannily like the “Reverse‑Scale System” inside him—deep, arcane, like the heartbeat of an ancient beast.
Clenching his teeth, he stepped through the bloodstains, walking toward that unknown darkness.
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