The wind howled across the Sunken Continent, carrying the scent of ash and blood. In the hollowed valley where the Veilwither Sect once thrived, only silence remained — broken by the distant cries of carrion birds circling overhead.
Scattered bones, shattered talismans, and remnants of broken Qi seals littered the ground like forgotten memories. The once-mighty sanctuary was reduced to ruins, swallowed by the relentless grasp of decay. Not a single living soul stirred, and the world had long since written the Veilwither Sect off as another forgotten tragedy.
No one dared speak its name anymore — not in the cities of the Celestial Tribunal, not in the shadowy alleys of the Sunken Continent. Whispers spoke of a curse, of a punishment too cruel for even the gods to unravel.
But in the deepest pit of the ruined shrine, where no light dared reach, a faint pulse stirred.
The Twinblight—a rusted chain weapon, its crescent blades dulled but intact—lay coiled on cracked stone, entwined with brittle bones and torn flesh. It hummed with a quiet energy, a remnant of a power too dark and deep to fade.
An old bone flute rested beside it, carved with runes that glowed faintly in the darkness. The silence seemed to breathe with it, as if the grave itself held its breath, waiting.
In the distance, a lone raven cawed thrice — an omen lost to time.
The world believed the Veilwither Sect was no more. Its cultivators, its teachings, and its secrets buried beneath the ash and silence.
But the Abyssal Nerve Codex—the cultivation path forged by a master who vanished into myth—was not so easily erased.
Some scars refuse to heal. Some screams linger in the marrow of the earth.
And in the darkest shadows, a new nightmare began to coil.