The embers on Millstone Lane hissed as morning dew settled over the charred oak timbers.
Ye Chen sat amidst the debris of the collapsed roof, staring at the palm of his right hand. The flesh was smooth and unscarred, showing no trace of the blackened venom that had been dissolving his tendons moments earlier.
The blue status window floated peacefully before his eyes, displaying his attributes in crisp letters as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Yet beneath the calm numbers, the memory of the blood red text remained etched into his mind.
Primordial vessel seed. Germination at seventy-four percent.
The words had not called him a master or a warrior. They had designated him as a container, a vessel being scrubbed clean of minor toxins so that an ancient entity could harvest his body at t
