The soulscape was ever the same —
A black, lifeless rock suspended in a starless void.
Silent. Timeless. Cold.
Chained at its center sat Wuixe, his long disheveled hair veiling part of his pale face, bare feet brushing against the cracked obsidian beneath. He wore no robes, only the remnants of black spirit-thread clothing that flickered faintly, woven by sheer force of will.
Around him —
Endless silence.
Except for the quiet pulse of power within the Tiger's Core, which floated a few inches above his open palm.
It spun slowly, radiating a deep violet glow, thunderous veins flickering beneath the surface like trapped lightning. The corrupted Qi within it was heavy and foul — yet alluring in its density. Wuixe's eyes gleamed with anticipation, a child-like grin forming across his face.
But it was not the smile of innocence.
It was the kind that held too many teeth.
Seated on the jagged ledge nearby was the Devouring Moon Beast, tail wrapped lazily around itself, head resting on a clawed paw. Its eyes, reflective and opalescent, never left Wuixe.
"You've been quiet lately," it rumbled, voice echoing through the void like a mountain sighing.
"Does near-death make even you reflective?"
Wuixe didn't look up. Instead, he let his fingers slowly trace the patterns on the core. He chuckled softly, more to himself.
"No. Near-death makes things clearer."
His voice was calm. Controlled. Unlike the venomous tones he once carried. There was a clarity now. Something more focused. More dangerous.
"I've been thinking," he murmured.
"About the tiger. That battle. Its movements… its rhythm. It adapted too quickly. It was testing me. Just like I was testing it."
He turned his head, purple eyes shimmering.
"It was alive. More alive than most humans I've ever met."
Assimilation Begins
He drew the core closer.
The void around him trembled as a vortex of corrupted Qi began to spin from the core. Thick tendrils of black-violet essence snaked toward his chest, wrapping around him like chains. His body arched slightly, eyes fluttering as pain surged through his veins.
The Devouring Moon Beast watched calmly.
"Still hurts?"
"Pain is… common," Wuixe whispered, breathing slowly. "I've grown fond of it."
The corruption was the first to assimilate.
It rushed through his system like a plague —
But instead of resisting it, Wuixe embraced it.
His skin briefly cracked in web-like patterns, dark essence crawling along his arms and back. The burn was deep, spiritual, almost cellular — but his expression never shifted.
He had done this before.
He would do it again.
Visions of the Past
As the core entered him fully, memories surged.
Visions not his own.
Through the eyes of the Tiger, he saw the corruption enter.
A hooded figure — tall, robed in crimson-black —
Placing a hand over the beast's head.
Words were spoken in an ancient tongue.
A rune carved into the beast's soul.
A pulse of black light.
Wuixe's pupils narrowed.
"Not poison. Not rot. This isn't like the Thousand Serpent Sect's methods. This is… deliberate. Controlled. Beautiful."
He leaned back slightly, digesting the implications.
"There's someone else here… someone on this continent using true corruption — not diluted by spirit venom or rot. And they lived. They survived."
He looked up, licking his lips slowly.
"I want to meet them."
The Devouring Moon Beast rumbled.
"You admire those who dance in the dark. But do you not wonder if they, too, are just puppets of the heavens?"
Wuixe scoffed.
"Better a shadow than a servant."
Thunder Awakens
A crack of lightning surged within him —
His Dantian glowed faintly.
A new affinity had begun to take shape.
Not wind. Not poison. But thunder.
And not the righteous, high heavens' kind —
But chaos-born, rage-infused, corrupted thunder.
It shimmered along his palm as he raised it. Purple sparks danced across his fingertips.
Wuixe stared at it… and then laughed.
Not with glee.
Not with joy.
But with something closer to vindicated madness.
"Lan Wu has the wind affinity. So soft. So patient."
He smiled wider.
"But me? I have thunder. And it sings."
A Disturbing Realization
He gazed inward, into the well of his spirit — his Dantian.
And it was then he noticed:
There were two.
One glowing pale with wind, not fully but like a phantom.
And his — darker, coiled, unlit by heaven's grace.
He reached for the boundary.
"So… we share a body, but not a soul. Not truly."
He laughed again.
"Good. That means he cannot use what I gain. But I can use everything he does."
He whispered then — like a prayer.
Like a curse.
"Lan Wu. Grow strong. Train hard. Become better. Because all you gain… I will take."
The Moon Beast finally stirred.
"If the day comes," it asked, "and you are strong enough to break free… will you kill him?"
Silence.
Wuixe lowered his hand.
He did not answer immediately.
Then—his voice was quiet. Not cold, not angry. Just still.
"I hate him," he said.
"For existing in the world that cast me out. For being born under stars that never looked at me. For having what I was meant to have."
"But kill him?"
He paused.
"If I do… I'll make it worthy. I'll make sure he dies better than he lived. Not because he deserves it. But because I do."
He stood up in the void, still chained —
Yet proud, grin wide, eyes alight with violet sparks and monstrous glee.
He placed one hand again on the heavenly seal that surrounded him.
It seared into his palm. Smoke rose.
He smiled.
"One day," he whispered, "I'll learn you. Crack you. Unfold your meanings. You'll belong to me."
He stepped back and sat again, legs crossed, arms relaxed.
The wind affinity danced behind his shoulders.
The thunder affinity crackled around his neck.
And the dark within him thrived.
The Question with No End:
Wuixe rested now, reclined upon the black, broken stone. The thunder essence still rippled beneath his skin, occasionally crackling along his veins like restless lightning seeking a path. The assimilation was done. The pain had passed. But something within him still pulsed — a different hunger. Not for battle. Not even for power.
But for truth.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes glancing sideways toward the slumbering mass beside him.
The Devouring Moon Beast.
It had always been there, curled beside the edge of his void-bound prison like a shadowed relic from some forgotten age. Its massive frame stretched lazily over the ledge, tail curled like a sickle moon, breath as slow and deep as collapsing stars. Even now, with Wuixe staring at it so blatantly, it didn't stir.
He studied it for a moment longer —
Its fangs like marble blades, its fur shifting through gradients of night.
Eyes closed. Unbothered. Regal. Eternal.
Wuixe finally broke the silence.
"You're not a divine beast," he said calmly.
"Not like the Azure Phoenix or the Golden Dragon."
No response.
"And you're not a demonic beast either. Your qi doesn't rot, it absorbs. Your presence doesn't corrupt, it swallows."
The Moon Beast shifted slightly, one glowing eye sliding open — indifferent.
"What are you?" Wuixe asked.
That grin crept again across his face —
Not mocking. Not gleeful. Just… calculated.
"I know about the war," Wuixe continued, "between the heavens and the underworld. The old records call you 'a mistake'. A celestial aberration. Born from moonlight and silence, feeding on both gods and ghosts alike."
The beast yawned. It was long, slow, more feline than fearsome.
"You're curious today," it said lazily, voice echoing like thunder wrapped in velvet.
"I'm always curious," Wuixe replied.
"And what makes you think you're ready for answers?"
"I don't want answers," Wuixe shrugged. "I want questions that are worth chasing."
The Moon Beast raised its head a little, intrigued now — not impressed, but entertained.
A pause. Then…
"Names change," it said. "In the First Age, they called me the Night Hunger. In the Second, I was the Hollow Moon. In the Third, they feared me as the Devourer of Radiance. I was all of them. I was none of them."
Wuixe blinked slowly.
"That's not an answer."
"No," the beast said, resting its head again. "It's many."
"What about the war?" Wuixe pressed, eyes now narrow. "The scrolls say you vanished. Did you lose? Or were you simply… done?"
"What is war but breath held too long?" the beast mused.
"Eventually… you exhale. And then silence returns."
It looked at him then, properly. Those moonlit eyes cut deep — not cruelly, but like an ancient sword wondering if the child before it knew which end was sharp.
"Why do you want to know what I am?"
Wuixe didn't hesitate.
"Because I don't believe in fate," he said. "Not anymore. And yet, here you are — chained beside me. In me. Watching. Waiting."
His voice lowered.
"I was chosen by no one. I was used by everyone. But you… you chose to stay. I want to know why."
The beast's eyes closed again.
"Perhaps I'm here to watch you fall."
"Or?"
"Or perhaps," it murmured, "I am here to see if you can stand."
Wuixe smirked.
"You're annoyingly poetic for something that's eaten gods."
"Poetry is just pain with rhythm," it said.
Wuixe didn't press further. He knew this dance — question and echo, truth wrapped in fog. It didn't frustrate him. Quite the opposite.
It made him grin.
He rose to his feet, lightning still simmering beneath his skin, and stretched like a cat testing its claws.
"No matter," he said. "Whether you're a mistake or a myth… eventually, I'll find out. I have time."
"Do you?" the Moon Beast asked.
Wuixe turned.
"Yes."
Then he reached out again, letting his fingers brush the heavenly inscription that bound his prison. It burned, as always — runes flashing with holy script.
But his grin didn't falter.
"Everything breaks, eventually."