Chapter 1 Antediluvian Corpse

• The Pacific stretched beneath an azure expanse, where cotton-white clouds drifted lazily. Below them, seabirds soared in leisurely arcs, their trills echoing through the void. On the ocean's vast canvas, a tiny black speck moved—when viewed up close, it revealed a luxurious cruise ship, from which lilting melodies and peals of laughter spilled.
• "This is the high life of the elite," Tan Xuan mused, swirling a glass of 1982 Lafite. Leaning against the railing, his features held a sickly pallor. Through the ballroom doors, he watched the throng: socialites feasting, dancing in suggestive embraces. A wry smile tugged at his lips, as if mocking the world's grandest folly.
• "Master Tan, might I steal a dance?" A vision in red silk approached—her cheongsam-clad form ripe as a peach, radiating sensual allure. Ruby lips curved; each sinuous step released a trail of intoxicating perfume.
• "Who is that man? She's approaching him unbidden!" Starlets in the hall gaped in disbelief.
• "You fools—he's Tan family heir!" a snide onlooker hissed. Though inwardly seething at the beauty's advances, he quashed his jealousy. Compared to the Tan dynasty, his own family's influence was trivial.
• Tan Xuan studied the woman—an international icon—for a full ten heartbeats, until her composure wavered. "No, thank you," he said flatly. "I prefer to rest."
• Her smile faltered. Humiliation flared across her cheeks under the crowd's stare. "Of course, Master Tan," she managed, fleeing the deck in awkward retreat. Spectators gawked, stunned by the rebuff.
• Alone, Tan Xuan shuddered, turning to cough into his palm. "Three years left, if that," he whispered, gazing at the churning waves. His hand came away stained with blood, each drop vanishing into the sea like a stolen breath. Wealth, power, adoration—he had it all, save one thing: time. Only his family's infinite resources had prolonged his frail life beyond a decade.
• "Life is but a fleeting dream," he sighed. He'd scoured the globe for cures, pored over arcane texts—only immortals or ancient qi masters could save him, but such beings existed only in myth. Resigned, he planned to spend his last days touring the world, drinking in its beauty before fading away.
• Without warning, the Pacific began to thrum. A subtle vibration at first, it escalated into a cataclysm, churning the sea into a maelstrom.
• "Sir! Massive Pacific earthquake!"
• "Chief, we're seeing—"
• Satellite feeds worldwide captured the horror: waves towering tens of meters, tornadoes whipping across the ocean. Onboard the cruiser, revelers were flung to the floor as the ship pitched wildly. "Help! Save us!" Screams mingled with shattering glass. A colossal wave slammed the hull, flooding the decks.
• Then, from the depths, a gigantic black pennant emerged, blotting out a third of the ocean. Tendrils of inky mist rose from its surface, and at its center lay a ten-zhang-long ancient corpse. The moment it appeared, the sky darkened—all light sucked into the cadaver as arm-thick lightning coiled around it.
• "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"
• A primal war cry thundered forth, shaking the earth to its core.
• "Miracle! A god awakens!" Millions watching satellite feeds trembled. The pennant must be a divine artifact, they thought.
• Tan Xuan trembled too, clutching the railing. The pennant's edge now brushed the ship, its mysterious runes glowing. He couldn't see the corpse at its heart, but the war cries pierced his bones.
• Suddenly, the pennant blazed with obsidian light. A yawning rift tore open in the sky. "It's leaving!" Tan Xuan thought, reaching out to grab the pennant's hem.
• The moment his hand made contact, his body disintegrated into dust. As the pennant vanished into the rift, carrying the corpse, the sea stilled—but the world would never forget.
• "Go... go..." On a distant street, a fortune-teller murmured, transforming into a Taoist priest. Shouldering a white banner, he vanished into an alley, singing:
• "Divine blood stains the sky,
• A warrior's blade cleaves worlds,
• As a dirge rises,
• How many heroes weep..."
• His voice faded, unheard by mortals.
• "Am I a spirit?" Tan Xuan wondered. His form was a misty nebula, yet he sensed the corpse's crushing aura. What being could wield such power? He strained to see, but an invisible force warped his vision.
• The pennant hurtled through dimensions, too fast for mortal eyes. Then, suddenly, they entered a realm of bone-chilling carnage: seas of skulls, mountains of broken blades. War cries deafened him, threatening to shatter his very soul. One glimpse was all he managed before his consciousness dissolved into darkness