Sù Wàng crouched before the rotting desk in the elder's chamber, fingertips tracing water stains on its surface. Morning light leaked through shattered panes, illuminating a half-rolled journal soaked in seawater. Ink bled into unreadable smudges, yet key phrases emerged: "Seventh day of the third moon: The Sea Priest brought the Deep Sea Tome, claiming it holds a pact with the Sea God…"
"Tome? Pact?" He pried a stuck fragment from the wood with his harpoon, discovering the "pact" involved villagers drinking Deep One blood. The final entry read: "Uncle A Gui's eyes grew scales after consuming the blood. He wanders into the sea at night…" The writing ended abruptly, claw marks scoring the paper's edge.
The pendant on his chest burned, summoning the system interface in his mind:
[Detected Cthulhu Mythos Fragment: Deep Sea Blood Pact (Mortal-Grade Lower Tier). Analyze? Cost: 200 Points.]
Sù Wàng stared at his remaining 250 points. "The Newbie Reward points aren't even enough for a shitty technique? You're a damn scammer, system."
The interface stayed silent, only the corruption warning flickering: 15%. He rubbed the back of his neck, where tiny scales had sprouted, rough as sandpaper. The Art of Drawing Qi into Madness warned that demonic energy caused physical mutations—he needed to purge soon, but 10% purification cost 1,000 points, far beyond his current stash.
"Stockpile points first." He stuffed the journal into his Storage Jade Slip, eyeing a moldy crate in the corner. Inside: a half-canister of blackened soul crystals, offerings from the ritual. The system pinged:
[Acquired Mortal-Grade Soul Crystals x12. Convert to 120 Points?]
With 7 empty slots in his 10-slot storage, he absorbed them all.
Stepping outside, the village's silence chilled him. Two dozen mutilated bodies littered the dock, Deep One slime 结痂 in grayish welts on stone. Kneeling by a corpse, he found a pale blue fish tattoo on its wrist—the "Sea God Pact Mark" from the elder's journal.
"So the 'pact' is just assimilation by Deep Ones." As he touched the tattoo, the system blared:
[Cthulhu Energy Detected. Prolonged Contact (10s+) Will Trigger Corruption!]
He jerked back as the tattoo oozed blue fluid, stinking of rotting kelp.
In his hut, Sù Wàng discovered a rusted tin box under the bed. Inside: a moldy flatbread and a yellowed family portrait—his predecessor's parents beside a fishing boat, his mother cradling an infant. He froze at the father's eyes: cloudy and white, identical to Deep One compound eyes.
"No wonder no one returned from sea… they were sacrifices all along." He tucked the photo into his collar, eyeing the Sea God idol. Its obsidian eyes dulled, slime leaking from cracks in a faint, coppery tang.
The system interface flared, the Art of Drawing Qi into Madness flipping to the "Demonic Qi Body Tempering" chapter: At Qi Drawing Tier, users could condense demonic energy into finger-blades, costing 5% spiritual power. Sù Wàng channeled the technique, his fingertips igniting with rust-red light, like wrapped in corroded steel.
"Better than a harpoon." He swiped at the wooden table; three inches of oak split cleanly, the edge charred and reeking of burnt rubber. Satisfied yet wary—such power would mark him a monster here. Most used mutated abilities from the Cthulhu system; orthodox heretical cultivation was rarer than a god's descent.
Ready to leave, Sù Wàng paused under the village's ancient locust tree. Sea wind carried brine, while a wall of fog undulated on the horizon, like a living thing breathing. The pendant's mark felt less like a system, more like a warden—every absorption a gamble, every exchange a grind worse than his past life's dungeon raids.
"Time to head for Azure Town." He gripped his harpoon, but three steps later, a crash echoed: the Sea God idol had collapsed, its obsidian eye rolling free to reveal carved text:
"The fifteenth of the seventh moon, when tides reverse—Deep Ones return to their nest."
"Return to their nest?" He lifted the stone, finding a crude map on its back, an arrow pointing to northwest mountains. The system offered:
[Ancient God Ritual Coordinates Detected. Mark Location?]
He confirmed, a blinking red dot appearing on his mental map.
Half an hour along the shore, Sù Wàng found a beached fishing boat, its hull gnawed, a tattered net snagged with a Deep One scale. He tried absorbing it:
[Low-Grade Remnant. Yield: 10 Points. Initiate Absorption?]
"Better than nothing." Light flooded him, points rising to 380. No corruption increase—apparently, the system distinguished between intact creatures and scraps. A relief; he could farm remnants safely.
At midday, sheltered in a rocky cove, he studied the Decay Poison Talisman: grayish, sandpaper-textured, veins pulsing with slime-memory. The system warned it created a 5m toxic fog, deadly to Deep Ones but paralyzing to humans—use with care.
"Wish this thing could craft healing items." The system's pill menu was blank, save for:
[Basic Qi-Gathering Pill: 300 Points + Materials: Deep Sea Algae x2, Rotheart Grass x1.]
"No materials, no pills." He smirked, gripping his harpoon. The elder's journal mentioned a black market in Azure Town for spiritual herbs. Hope flickered—if he reached the town without being labeled a heretic.
By mid-afternoon, the fog lifted, revealing mountains. At their base, a weed-choked path bore fresh cart tracks. Two miles in, voices shouted ahead:
"I trekked three days for this Rotheart Grass! You say it's worth five soul crystals?" a gravelly voice snarled.
"That's the market rate. Yours has worm-eaten roots—three crystals is generous." A nasal tone dripped disdain.
Peering from behind a tree, Sù Wàng saw two men: one clutching a purple sprout, the other a pouch of clinking soul crystals. Rotheart Grass—a key ingredient for Qi-Gathering Pills.
"System, scan the plant."
[Detected Mortal-Grade Spiritual Herb: Rotheart Grass (70% Integrity). Usable in Qi-Gathering Pills, Decay Poison Powder.]
As the argument escalated, Sù Wàng drew his Decay Poison Talisman. Risky, but he couldn't miss this chance. Channeling demonic energy, he leaped from cover, harpoon at the seller's throat: "Give me the grass. I'll let you live."
"Take it! Please!" The seller trembled, dropping both the herb and his pouch. As Sù Wàng hooked the grass, the buyer lunged with a dagger. He sidestepped, clubbing the man's wrist with his harpoon's butt, then activated the talisman. Gray mist engulfed them, inducing choking and numbness.
"Wh-what is this…" They collapsed, muscles weakening. Sù Wàng seized the grass and pouch—three extra soul crystals—and gained 30 points, total 410.
"Don't kill us… we're Iron Blade Guild!" The seller bared a wolf-head tattoo on his wrist. Sù Wàng remembered the elder's notes: a Cthulhu hunting group, members trading monster parts for soul crystals.
"What's Iron Blade doing here?" He pressed the harpoon harder.
"Azure Town has a branch… bounties on Deep Ones. Sell monster parts for soul crystals…"
Sù Wàng released them. A legitimate way to farm points. The escapees scrambled off as he studied the Rotheart Grass—this gamble had paid off.
At dusk, he found a ruined stone hut in a mountain hollow. By campfire, he experimented with alchemy, though the system locked artifact crafting until Pulse Condensation Tier. Alchemy required Qi Drawing Mid-Tier—his current realm.
"Attempt Qi-Gathering Pills." Following the Art of Drawing Qi into Madness's alchemy section, he roasted the Rotheart Grass, adding a drop of Deep One slime. Green sap bubbled in a clay pot, congealing into three grain-sized pills pockmarked with black spots.
[Crafting Success: Inferior Qi-Gathering Pill x3. 20% Chance of Elixir Poison upon ingestion.]
"Knew it wouldn't be easy." He stored them, planning to test later.
Lying on straw, Sù Wàng studied the sky—stars arranged in alien glyphs. The pendant's mark throbbed, recalling the antique seller's last words: "This jade chooses its bearer." Now, it felt less like a choice, more like a sentence.
"Nine Abyss Heresy System… don't screw me over too hard." He focused on the demonic energy in his core—thicker now, a finger-thick current—strengthening muscles and bones, even as neck scales spread like invasive vines.
At midnight, a wolfish howl split the air. Peering through cracks, he saw the sea dotted with azure glows—Deep One eyes, hunting. He gripped his harpoon; he was Mistveil Village's sole survivor, their missed prey.
"Azure Town tomorrow." He glanced at his storage: Rotheart Grass, soul crystals, tentacles, and the elder's map fragment. The system's point counter ticked silently—a reminder that every point was bought with risk, every absorption a deal with the abyss.
The pendant glimmered, reflecting resolve in his eyes. He knew the path ahead was steeped in danger, but there was no retreat. Strength alone would unravel the Deep Ones' plot, let him survive in this Cthulhu-plagued world—even if his cultivation was heresy, even if each step teetered on a blade's edge.
As first light painted the hut's walls, Sù Wàng shouldered his pack. The harpoon scraped embers, sparking briefly. He checked his wrist: faint red veins had emerged, mirroring the Art of Drawing Qi into Madness's meridians.
"Let's see what Azure Town's black market offers." He smiled at the pendant, stepping into the dawn. The sea's roar drowned his thoughts, but one truth burned clear: the heretical path of the Nine Abyss had only just begun.
The pendant's mark pulsed—ominous, yet promising. In this world of cosmic horror, he'd carve his own rules, one absorption, one gamble, one step at a time.