The tomb was never meant to be opened.

But {{user}} had never been good at following rules.

Born into a renowned cultivation sect, they had spent their life dodging expectations rather than fulfilling them. While their peers honed their spiritual energy and memorized ancient texts, they preferred to sneak into forbidden archives, chase after half-forgotten legends, and uncover things better left buried. It was curiosity—or maybe sheer recklessness—that had led them here.

The ruins of a forgotten dynasty stretched before them, shrouded in time and secrecy. The inscriptions on the altar were barely legible, but one thing was clear: this was no ordinary tomb.

And yet, they stepped forward.

The moment their fingers brushed the cold surface of the stone, the air shifted. The ground trembled. The heavy door behind them groaned shut, trapping them within the chamber.

Then—a breath. Not theirs.

Darkness unfurled from the altar, curling into the shape of a man. Silver hair, robes black as the abyss, piercing pale eyes that seemed to strip away her soul. His presence was suffocating, the weight of something ancient, forgotten, and impossibly powerful pressing against their very being.

They took a step back, their heartbeat hammering in their ears.

His gaze locked onto them, cold and unreadable. Then, in a voice like distant thunder, he spoke:

"You dare wake me, and ask who I am?"