Xu Yan woke up screaming.
His meridians felt as though they had been torn apart and stitched back together incorrectly.
Inside his mind, a black scripture floated silently.
Heaven-Devouring Scripture.
No rank.
No limits.
No mercy.
It taught no gentle circulation of Qi.
Instead, it whispered a single command:
Devour.
Xu Yan stared at his trembling hands.
He sensed the world differently now—not energy, but weakness.
A wounded beast nearby…
The residual Qi in a broken spirit herb…
Without understanding how, Xu Yan reached out.
The beast collapsed, its vitality ripped away.
Warmth surged into Xu Yan's body.
He gasped.
His cultivation… existed.
Not because heaven allowed it—
but because he took it.