Darkness was not an absence of light for Lucien Novar; it was a boundless expanse where stars took form.
When his knees had buckled against the shale at the end of that brutal slaughter, consciousness had not slipped away in agony.
It had receded inward, drawn into the silent void beneath his navel.
Throughout the long, freezing mountain night, while the primeval winds whipped through the fractured canopy of the Eastern Mountain Range, Lucien lay motionless amid the carnage of the thirty-two slain Moon-Scar Wolves.
Beside his battered, blood-soaked body, the little white tiger cub never stirred.
Its tiny snowy paws, stained with dried mud and its mother’s cooling blood, remained firmly planted against Lucien’s torn sleeve.
Shivering in the moonlight, the cub pressed its damp nose against his knuckles, whining in soft whimpers whenever distant predators howled across the ridges.
It did not flee into the thickets.
It stood vigil over the human who had severed space to preserve its breath, refusing to leave his side.
As the pre-dawn mist thinned, golden sunlight filtered through the cracked branches.
Lucien’s eyelashes fluttered.
He drew a long, deep breath.
He did not wake with the agony of shattered ribs or the burning sting of beast venom.
There was no nausea, no paralysis.
Instead, a rich, rhythmic warmth hummed through his veins.
Opening his eyes, Lucien sat upright in an instant, instincts flaring for battle.
Nothing stirred.
The silence was serene, broken only by early mountain birds.
Lucien looked down at himself, his breath catching.
His clothes were in tatters—stiff with dried crimson gore.
Beside his hip lay the charred hilt of the eighty-kilogram greatsword, its cold-rolled steel reduced to fine dust by the release of Genesis Sword Intent.
Yet beneath those ruined garments, a miracle had taken place.
The five gruesome gouges that the fifth-level Bone Forging Alpha had carved across his chest were gone.
Not even a faint scar remained.
In their place was pristine jade skin, radiant and unbroken.
His meridians felt wider, stronger, and more resilient than before the battle.
How is this possible?
Lucien turned his awareness inward.
Deep within his dantian, the miniature crimson star core spun with steady majesty.
Encircling its corona, the tiny red planet orbited in absolute harmony.
Without his conscious direction, the Primordial Genesis Art had circulated automatically overnight.
The tyrannical vitality of his eighteen cycles of stellar tempering had neutralized the venom, knitted his flesh, and purged every injury while he slept.
In the mortal world, such horrific wounds would have crippled an elder for months, even with high-grade healing pills.
For the vessel of an internal cosmos, it was washed away in a single night.
A soft snuffling sound broke his thoughts.
Curled against his knee was a tiny ball of snowy fur.
The cub was fast asleep, whiskers twitching faintly as its paws gripped Lucien’s pant leg.
Looking down at the creature, that strange, ancient warmth bloomed anew within Lucien’s chest.
It was not mere pity. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
It was an unmistakable cosmic pull—an ancient gravity that seemed to transcend mortal life, an instinct whispering that this beast had belonged at his side since before the first star was born.
Lucien smiled faintly and reached out, his calloused fingers gently stroking the soft fur between the cub’s ears.
“You stayed the whole night, didn’t you?” he murmured.
The instant his fingertips touched the crown of the cub’s head—
Whoosh.
The forest dissolved.
The scent of blood, the damp earth, and the morning breeze vanished in a heartbeat.
Space stripped away, pulling Lucien’s consciousness across the boundaries of reality.
When his vision cleared, he found himself standing beneath a primeval canopy of trees so colossal that their tops vanished into swirling purple and azure clouds.
The trunks were wider than entire cities, etched with glowing golden rings that pulsed like the heartbeats of living worlds.
The air was saturated with a thick, regal aura so divine that simply breathing it nourished his soul.
An intoxicating aroma drifted through the emerald glade—the rich, savory fragrance of roasting meat, far surpassing any culinary art of the mortal realm.
Lucien moved forward, parted a curtain of silver vines, and froze.
Sitting on a mossy boulder beneath the world-tree was a man.
He wore flowing, unadorned white robes, his long snow-white hair cascading freely down his back.
In his hands, he held a simple wooden skewer, roasting a haunch of golden meat over a pit of dancing primordial flame.
Glowing fat dripped onto the stones, casting sparks of rainbow light.
Around him rested five magnificent beasts.
To his left coiled a starlight Dragon, its shimmering scales gleaming as its golden whiskers twitched toward the flame.
Above him perched a Phoenix, its feathers woven from eternal solar gold and crimson fire.
Beside the pit lay an Elephant of living primordial stone, tusks inscribed with celestial runes.
Resting against the man’s back, serving as a massive cushion, was a colossal Bear with fur darker than the stellar void.
And curled at the man’s right knee, batting playfully at his white robes, was a magnificent White Tiger.
Its snow coat was etched with silver stripes flickering with arcs of divine lightning, rolling onto its back like a pampered child.
The harmony was breathtaking.
There were no chains, no soul-brands, no collars of subjugation.
These five supreme beings did not serve out of fear; they gathered like innocent children around a loving parent.
The white-robed man chuckled warmly, scratching the tiger beneath its jaw.
“Patience, little one,” his voice echoed across eternity.
“The fire must temper the essence before it can nourish the soul.”
Thump.
A golden seal shattered deep in Lucien’s soul.
Blazing starlight characters erupted in his mind:
Genesis Beast Taming Art.
Flash—!
The vision shattered into a million glittering fragments.
Lucien gasped, his eyes snapping open.
He was back in the sunlit gorge, his hand resting atop the cub’s head.
Who are these white haired people?
How are they connected to him?
The little white tiger was awake, staring up at him with wide, bewildered silver eyes.
Sensing no danger, the cub let out a soft chirp and nuzzled its wet nose against Lucien’s palm, licking his knuckles with a rough, warm tongue.
Scooping the cub onto his shoulder, Lucien rose and walked toward the sheer cliff wall where the mother tigress lay.
Her silver-white coat was still, her eyes glazed in death.
“Before we leave, we have a duty to finish,” Lucien said softly.
The cub pressed against his neck, shivering with muted sorrow.
Lucien raised his palm toward the rocky ground beside the cliff.
Then carved a deep trench into the solid bedrock.
Gently, reverently, Lucien lifted the massive tigress and laid her into the earth.
He did not touch her beast core; an oath given to a dying soul could not be tainted by petty greed.
He moved the displaced stones back over the grave, erecting a dignified granite cairn to shield her from scavengers.
The cub looked down from his shoulder, letting out one last mournful whimper before nuzzling Lucien’s ear with a contented chuff.
Turning north, Lucien leaped effortlessly through the canopy, his eighteen-tempered body carrying him like a phantom back to his camp beneath the ironwood tree.
The hollow was untouched.
His satchel, rations, and the Mid-Rank Tier 2 Alpha Beast Core remained safe.
Setting the cub on a bed of moss, Lucien stripped off his tattered rags, washed away the dried blood with clear water, and donned a fresh set of dark robes.
Pointing a finger, he ignited a smokeless crimson flame in the pit.
The cub waddled over, circled the warmth, and flopped down against Lucien’s crossed leg.
Resting its chin on his knee, it let out a long yawn and quickly drifted back to sleep, purring softly.
Resting a hand on the cub’s back, Lucien closed his eyes and turned his attention to the newly unlocked scripture: Genesis Beast Taming Art.
In the Eastern Continent, beast taming was a cruel, coercive practice using brands and tormenting seals, forever limiting a creature to its natural mortal ceiling.
The Genesis Beast Taming Art was the exact opposite—an art of Primordial Evolution.
Every living beast carried a dormant fragment of primordial bloodline, diluted over eons.
Through this technique, the tamer did not enslave the beast, but formed a sacred communion.
The beast’s dantian linked to the host’s inner universe, cultivating directly alongside him and absorbing the pure energy of his stellar bodies.
This shared circulation triggered continuous bloodline purification, burning away mortal impurities to awaken the creature’s absolute apex: its Primordial Form.
A common serpent could awaken into the World-Devouring Ouroboros.
And this cub could ascend into the legendary Primordial White Tiger of Slaughter.
In turn, the bond was symbiotic.
As the beast evolved, its unlocked racial abilities and elemental affinities would reflect back into the host’s vessel, granting Lucien additional gifts and sensory traits.
Yet the scripture held one strict rule:
“Five seats under heaven. In one life, the cosmos shall cradle only five.”
Lucien understood immediately.
Five primordial beasts represented the five sacred pillars—identical to the five creatures around the white-robed sovereign.
He was not raising an army of cannon fodder; he was forging five sovereigns to walk beside him.
Opening his eyes, Lucien looked down at the sleeping cub beside the fire, a fierce determination shining in his gaze.
“Five seats in the entire cosmos,” Lucien murmured, gently stroking the snowy fur.
“And the very first one belongs to you.”