PRIMORDIAL WORLDS

ZENG WANG had learners one truth in life: mercy was a luxury for the strong, not the weak. On the night the iron valley sect was destroyed he crawled from beneath burning rubble with a shattered leg and blood in his eyes while others screamed he listened beneath the collapsed altar something pulsed- slow, ancient, alive. He dragged himself forward." The stone cracked revealing a black Jade ring etched with moving symbols. The moment his fingers touched it, the world went silent a cold voice echoed within his mind, calm and amused, as if it had waited for centuries. "Beareround. Survival instinct accepted.". Pain flooded him his broken meridians reformed, twisted but stronger memories not his own poured in, schemes formations forbidden methods mean it to rule not cultivat. ZENG WANG smiled for the first time that night. He did not swear revenge. Revenge was simple. What he desired was... Control