**Chapter 30: Ashes of Sinful Seas, Remnant Body** The taste filled his mouth, thick and viscous like rust. Lin Yi leaned against a broken pillar, the cold stone surface digging into his spine. Every attempt to breathe felt like a hard punch under his ribs. With great effort, he lifted his right hand—the one still relatively intact—and pressed it firmly below his left shoulder. Between his fingers, warm liquid seeped out incessantly, soaking through the torn outer robe, then dripped onto the dull gray rubble at his feet. He had to move. He couldn't stay here. Xiao Han's gentle, smiling face surfaced again in the darkness. His voice was clear and crisp, each word an ice spike. "Tacit consent… Ziyuan, your father gave his nod." The scene exploded right after—the towering inferno, the charred beams, the fleeing backs of his clansmen. And earlier, three years ago, that world-rending white light at the Heavenly Gift Ceremony, and at the end of that light, his father's eyes… eyes filled with relief. It wasn't a metaphor. Something was truly twisting in his gut, accompanied by wave after wave of spasms radiating from his left arm. The mutated arm lay silent now, like a cold, stiff piece of deadwood that didn't belong to him, yet the veins beneath the skin pulsed erratically, bringing sharp, burning pain as if countless red-hot needles were being driven in. His sleeve was long torn to shreds. On the exposed skin, dark red patterns, like the blood vessels of some living thing, snaked and intertwined, spreading from his shoulder all the way to the back of his hand. At this moment, these patterns were dim, only flickering with a faint, almost invisible red light during the occasional spasm. This is what Xiao Han called it. A sliver of life stolen from the cracks in the Heavenly Dao's rules. Lin Yi's fingers unconsciously tapped the rubble beneath him, producing a monotonous, oppressive *tap-tap* sound. It was the only rhythm of thought he could maintain amidst the excruciating pain and chaos. Who to take revenge on? The Xiao Family? Or that… father who gave his nod? He tugged at the corner of his mouth, tasting more blood. Was a Lin Family like that—one that would sacrifice its own son for "stability"—really worth reclaiming? And after reclaiming it, what then? Ascend to that blood-stained position of Clan Head, become the next Lin Zhenyue? It wasn't a real abyss. It was the icy sense of nothingness that welled up from the deepest recesses of his heart when cognition crumbled. All his struggles these past three years, all his endurance, all the humiliation and resentment he gritted his teeth and swallowed at the bottom of the cold pool… what had supported them was nothing but a sand tower hollowed out long ago. His very existence, Lin Yi, had been a "mistake" in need of correction from the very beginning. So what was he doing now? Dragging this life stolen and seized, this mutated arm he was beginning to feel alien to, through this desolate, silent ruin—where exactly was he heading? Proving something to whom? To the father who had long since abandoned him? Or to this heartless, merciless so-called "Heavenly Dao" that determined life and death? The fingertips of his right hand dug deep into his palm, the sharp pain bringing brief clarity. He gasped for breath, sweat and bloodstains on his forehead trickling down, stinging his eyes. It wasn't the wind. It was something heavier, more regular, slowly, inexorably spreading over. Like a tide, but colder than any tide, more… "orderly." Where it passed, even the chaotic whispers and phantom wails that perpetually lingered in the ruins were abruptly silenced, as if wiped away by an invisible hand. With great difficulty, he lifted his head, looking towards the edge of the ruins. As far as his vision reached, the broken walls and collapsed pillars remained, but the unique "aura" of the "Dark Ruins"—that mixture of decay, dust, and faint chaotic spiritual energy flows—was being rapidly "smoothed over." Like a crumpled piece of paper forcibly spread out and flattened, every wrinkle erased, leaving only a rigid smoothness. His left arm, that dead piece of wood, suddenly erupted in excruciating pain without any warning. Not the previous spasmodic burning, but a sharper, searing pain as if branded by a hot iron, exploding from deep within the patterns. At the same time, an indescribable sense of "cringing" crawled up his spine, making him almost want to curl up and hide deeper in the shadow of the broken pillar. He clenched his teeth, his throat working, forcing back the More precisely, it fell on his mutated left arm. That gaze wasn't looking at a person, not even at a living thing. It was more like looking at an unwanted stain on an artifact, or a mistake in a manuscript that needed to be circled in red ink. It wasn't fear. It was something more fundamental—the crushing sensation that arises from the very essence of life when one's existence is "gazed upon" by a higher being. The surrounding air grew thick, tightly wrapping around his body, making every attempt to draw breath excruciatingly difficult. All sound vanished; an absolute silence pressed down, leaving only the slow, heavy, drum-like beating of his own heart within his chest. The elder stepped onto the ground of the ruins. His pace was light and unhurried, yet carried a strange sense of weight. Wherever he passed, even the broken stones on the ground seemed to become more "orderly," no longer scattered chaotically. The distance was just right—neither too far nor too close. It maintained a condescending scrutiny while leaving sufficient space for "purification." His voice wasn't loud, yet it was resonant and solemn. Every word seemed to carry an invisible weight, crashing into this forcibly "ordered" silence. He paused again, his tone acquiring a more declarative certainty. "The Heavenly Dao is constant; all things follow order. You bear the mark of theft, disrupt fate's principles, and shall undergo purification." Lin Yi understood every word, but strung together, they sounded like the most absurd dream-ravings. Purification? Wiping him out like those phantom shadows of the Nether Ruins? By what right? He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but only managed a hoarse, breathy sound. His throat was parched as if on fire, mixed with the taste of blood. He swallowed hard, his tongue tasting more of iron rust, then bit down fiercely. A brief moment of clarity pierced through the sluggishness brought by the oppressive aura. He lifted his head, meeting the indifferent gaze of Xuan Yin Zhenren. His voice trembled from pain and some emotion suppressed to its limit, yet he threw the words out clearly, one by one. "Wipe me out... like wiping out these phantoms?" Xuan Yin Zhenren's eyes showed not the slightest ripple, as if Lin Yi's questioning was merely a breeze brushing over water. He slightly adjusted the collar of his already immaculate Daoist robe, his movements composed, carrying a certain ceremonial air. His voice remained calm, yet it exuded the undeniable force of law. "Your father, Lin Zhenyue, in his pursuit of family continuation and personal advancement, entered a covenant with Order, tacitly consenting to the elimination of 'variables.'" Even though he had already heard this from Xiao Han, even though he had guessed seventy or eighty percent of it in his heart, when the words "covenant" were spoken so clearly, so "righteously," from Xuan Yin Zhenren's mouth, the feeling was still like an ice pick, violently chiseling into the ruins of his cognition that had just begun to collapse. Xuan Yin Zhenren continued, his tone devoid of joy or sorrow, as if reading aloud a long-written verdict. "Your very existence is a violation of the covenant, a provocation against Order." He paused slightly, his gaze falling on Lin Yi's pale, tightly clenched face, as if observing the final reaction of this "anomaly." "Submit, and your remnant soul may enter the cycle of reincarnation, cleansed of sin, re-entering the cycle of Order." His voice lowered slightly; the surrounding air seemed to solidify a bit more. Four words, spoken lightly, yet carrying the weight of a thousand jun, pressing down on Lin Yi until he could hardly breathe. The stinging pain and the "shrinking" sensation in his left arm intensified. The dark red patterns even squirmed faintly, as if in fear, in trembling. So... his very existence was itself a mistake? A bug that needed to be fixed? Even the father who gave him life... had nodded on that cold covenant? Lin Yi wanted to laugh, but only managed a hoarse, gasping sound. Anger? Despair? Or something deeper, something even he couldn't distinguish, churned and collided in his chest, almost ready to explode. He stared fixedly at Xuan Yin Zhenren, his teeth making faint grinding sounds from the force of his clenching, piercingly sharp in the absolute silence. His voice shook violently, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth. Xuan Yin Zhenren gave a slight nod, the movement precise as if measured with a ruler and compass. "Under the Heavenly Dao, all beings are but straw dogs. Personal sentiments are insignificant." He took a small step forward. The hem of his moon-white Daoist robe brushed the ground, and even the dust seemed to Lin Yi looked at that overly clean hand, at that hint of icy "compassion" in Xuan Yin Zhenren's eyes. Suddenly, all his trembling, all his rage, all his despair... receded like a tide. A calm that came from standing at the very bottom of an abyss, stepping onto solid, cold bedrock. All of this ignited like the fiercest flame, roaring upward. What it burned away was not his body, but the last remnants of... weakness and confusion that had lingered in his heart, remnants even he hadn't fully realized were there. He no longer even needed to live for the goal of "revenge." Those were all cages. Hatred was a cage, the approval of others was a cage, even the obsession with "taking back everything that was lost" was itself merely another, more exquisite cage. After the flames burned out, what was revealed beneath the ruins was the most primitive, the hardest layer of rock. Slowly, extremely slowly, he exhaled a mouthful of turbid air that had been trapped in his chest. It carried a heavy scent of blood, and a certain... taste of dust settling. This simple movement tugged at all the wounds on his body, especially those at his ribs and left arm. Intense pain struck, instantly breaking cold sweat on his temples. His body swayed, but he held firm. His right leg retreated half a step, bracing against a broken pillar, steadying his center of gravity. In his gaze, there was no longer the previous chaos, struggle, rage, nor fear. Only a pure, almost icy calm remained, and deep within that calm, a tiny, faint yet unwaveringly firm... spark, slowly igniting. Xuan Yin Zhenren seemed to sense something. That hint of "compassion" faded from his eyes, returning to complete indifference, even gaining a trace of scrutiny. His voice was hoarse, yet exceptionally steady. Each word was crystal clear, striking the silent air. He paused, as if to carefully savor this word. "To deem my father a contract, to deem me an error, to deem my clan deserving of annihilation." He shook his head, the movement light, yet carrying the weight of a thousand jun. Xuan Yin Zhenren's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. But Lin Yi smiled. It wasn't a twisted smile, not one of despair, but a smile that was... almost relieved, tinged with faint mockery. "To have me admit my wrongs, imprison myself, and then vanish with tearful gratitude." Slowly, he moved his right hand away from the wound at his ribs. His hand was covered in blood, appearing dark and heavy in the dim light. He casually wiped it on his tattered robes. Then, he raised that left arm that had been dormant, cowering, twitching. On the left arm, the dark red patterns that had been dim, deathly still, only occasionally twitching, suddenly... came alive. Not the previous kind of violent, uncontrolled "life." It was like a hibernating snake sensing the breath of spring, like a frozen river hearing the surge beneath the earth. The patterns began to emit light, no longer the chaotic, flickering red light, but a stable, low, dark red glow like molten lava flowing through the night. The glow spread slowly and firmly along the veins of the patterns, connecting, eventually forming a complete, orderly "network" beneath the skin, as if possessing its own rhythm of life. A warm, pulsating sensation gradually syncing with his heartbeat emanated from deep within the arm, replacing the previous coldness, stabbing pain, and "cowering." That power no longer tried to tear at him, to devour him, but... flowed. Like blood, obedient to his will, flowing calmly under his control. Lin Yi looked at his left arm, glowing with a steady red light. There was no surprise in his eyes, only a clarity of "so that's how it is." When he finally severed all external shackles and obsessions, finding a "path" that belonged solely to himself, this power stolen from the cracks of the Heavenly Dao had finally... found its true master. His five fingers slowly closed, forming a fist. The dark red glow flowed between his fingers, stable, restrained, yet containing a certain rebellious force that caused the surrounding air, which had been "ordered," to tremble faintly. Then, he raised this arm, pointing straight at Xuan Yin Zhenren three zhang away. Where his fingertip pointed, the air emitted a faint, sizzling sound as if being scorched. His voice remained calm, yet it was like an unsheathed sword, carrying the resolve to sever everything. He tilted his head slightly, looking into Xuan Yin Zhenren's indifferent eyes, which finally held a ripple of disturbance. Word by word, he uttered the final three words. The dark red light suddenly condensed at his knuckles. The The rubble ceased its rolling, dust suspended in mid-air. The entire world had been muted, leaving only a suffocating, constricting sensation, as if an invisible giant hand were squeezing his heart. A figure descended slowly from the sky, treading upon an invisible staircase. The moon-white Daoist robe was immaculate, its cuffs and collar embroidered with silver cloud patterns representing the cycles of heavenly principle, meticulous to the last detail. The elder's face was as placid as an ancient well, his wrinkles like furrows carved with a ruler, each line exuding an unquestionable authority and detachment. His gaze fell, not upon Lin Yi's face, but precisely locked onto the left arm half-concealed by tattered clothing, covered in strange, somber patterns. That gaze held no hatred, no anger, not even curiosity. Only a pure scrutiny, as if viewing a "stain" that needed to be wiped clean, an "error" that was untimely and must be set right. This was not the fear of facing a powerful foe, but a crushing pressure stemming from a difference in life's hierarchy and the very essence of existence. His grievously wounded body groaned under the strain of this pressure, every injury screaming. The dormant, aberrant patterns on his left arm now transmitted waves of searing, stabbing pain, as if branded by an invisible iron. The "thing" beneath his skin shrank back, trembling, as if encountering a natural predator. True Master Xuan Yin landed on the ground, a mere three *zhang* away from Lin Yi. His landing made no sound, not even stirring a single grain of dust. He stood perfectly straight, like a ruler thrust into the ruins, forcibly "defining" the surrounding chaos into an orderly domain centered upon himself. "Aberration," he spoke, his voice even, yet carrying an indisputable force of law. Each word seemed to possess weight, hammering into the silent air and against Lin Yi's teetering mental defenses. "The Mark of Transgression." Lin Yi clenched his jaw, the tip of his tongue pressed against his palate, trying to resist the pressure that threatened to crush his bones. His throat was filled with the taste of blood. True Master Xuan Yin continued, his tone steady as if reciting long-established statutes: "The Heavenly Dao has its constancy; all things have their order. You bear the Stolen Mark, disturbing destiny's principles. You shall undergo purification." Lin Yi's fingertips dug deep into his palms, the sharp pain bringing a fleeting moment of clarity. He laboriously lifted his head, the bones in his neck emitting faint cracking sounds. A hoarse voice squeezed out from between his teeth: "Purification? Erase me... like wiping away these phantoms?" He gasped, the intense pain under his ribs making his vision darken. "By what right?" True Master Xuan Yin adjusted his already flawless, wrinkle-free sleeve, his movements composed and precise. His gaze finally lifted to meet Lin Yi's. Those eyes held no emotion, only a frozen lake reflecting the so-called "Supreme Principles of Heaven." "By the impartiality of the Heavenly Dao," he said. "Your father, Lin Zhenyue, in pursuit of his family's continuation for a hundred years and the advancement of his own Dao path, on the night of the Heaven-Bestowed Ceremony three years ago, entered into a covenant with Order. The covenant stipulated that the Lin family would offer the karma of the 'Innate Full Spiritual Root' in exchange for resources and protection, and tacitly consented to Order's clearance of any 'variables' that might arise from this act." Each word was like a poisoned ice spike, driven into Lin Yi's already riddled understanding. "You are that variable," True Master Xuan Yin's voice remained flat, as if stating a fact as obvious as the sun rising in the east. "Your very existence is a violation of the covenant, a provocation against the established order. Thus, Heaven's punishment descended, intending to erase you along with your karma. However..." He paused slightly, his gaze sweeping over Lin Yi's left arm once more. The somber patterns seemed to writhe uneasily under his scrutiny. "However, an unknown external force intervened, stealing a sliver of vitality from a crack in the rules, forging this Mark of Transgression, allowing you to linger until now. This is a flaw in Order, a blemish upon the Heavenly Dao." True Master Xuan Yin took half a step forward, the oppressive pressure suddenly intensifying. "My presence here today is to remedy this flaw, to cleanse this blemish." A buzzing filled Lin Yi's ears. The words of True Master Xuan Yin and the fragments revealed by Xiao Han pieced together, forming a panorama of bone-chilling clarity. And he, Lin Yi—from the moment of his birth, no, from the moment he was detected to have an Innate Full Spiritual Root—his fate had His stomach twisted into knots. A wave of intense nausea washed over Lin Yi, and the taste of blood in his mouth grew stronger. He stared fixedly at Xuan Yin Zhenren’s utterly lifeless face, at that moon-white robe that represented “order” and “correctness.” Was this the “Heavenly Dao” he had once yearned for and revered? Was this the “greater good” that his father was willing to sacrifice his own son to protect? A cage built from cold contracts, ruthless rules, and so-called “righteousness.” And he, from the very beginning, had been locked inside it, even expected to willingly walk toward the sacrificial altar. Seeing his silence, Xuan Yin Zhenren’s tone softened slightly, yet carried a deeper, unyielding sense of control. “Considering your youth, and that this rebellious mark may not have been summoned by your own intent. The Heavenly Dao is merciful, offering you a thread of life.” He raised his right hand, palm upward. A sphere of pure, gentle white light slowly materialized, yet it contained a terrifying, suppressive force. “Disperse your aberrant power, seal your own divine soul, and follow this venerable one back to the sect’s Demon-Suppressing Tower. With a century of pure cultivation, cleanse the filth from your soul and return to the cycle of order. This is the Heavenly Dao’s final mercy for you.” The white light illuminated Xuan Yin Zhenren’s utterly placid eyes, and also shone upon Lin Yi’s deathly pale face—a face where something seemed to be collapsing, only to be reforged anew. Disperse all his power, seal his own soul, be locked away in the Demon-Suppressing Tower like livestock, spend a hundred years “repenting” for the sin of being alive, “grateful” for this so-called mercy? Was this the “destiny” he had earned after struggling against heaven to change his fate, walking this path covered in wounds to reach this day? The truth his father had silently condoned, the Heavenly Dao’s heartless rules, his own defined “error”… All of these, instead, acted like the most scorching wildfire, roaring through and burning away the last remnants of confusion, weakness, and any lingering attachment to those illusory bubbles of “father’s approval” and “belonging to the family.” A chasm had split open beneath his feet. He stood at its edge, looked down, and saw not something to devour him, but… freedom. A freedom born of falling. His laughter was hoarse, dry, yet carried a strange, almost relieved calm. He no longer tried to resist that oppressive might. Instead, slowly, with immense difficulty, he used his hand to brace against the cold broken pillar behind him. Inch by inch, he pulled his grievously injured body up from its leaning posture. His bones groaned, his wounds tore open anew, warm blood once again soaked through his tattered clothes. Every movement pulled at him with rending agony.