Cultivator of the End: I Refine My Own Death-Chapter 109 – The Root of the Curse

Rin had long walked the path of death, carving it into his soul, bending the very essence of life and death to his will. But despite all the power, the techniques, the rituals, there was something he had never fully understood: the origin of his Death Refinement Dao. The origin of his cursed core.

He had always known that the power within him was unnatural—that it had been thrust upon him from the moment of his birth. The whispers of the Death Echoes, the strange, otherworldly resonance that pulsed through his veins, were the constant reminder of a connection to something far older, far darker than anything he could comprehend. But even in his deepest meditations, even as his cultivation grew more refined, there was always a lingering question that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts: Why?

Why was he the one chosen?

It was this question that led him to the forbidden texts of the Fleshcrafters. Hidden away in the depths of Yama Hollow, beneath layers of body-modification techniques, death-forged rituals, and grotesque surgical tomes, were ancient scrolls—tattered, burnt, and steeped in the blackened aura of their forbidden knowledge. These texts were not for the weak-hearted. They were not for those who still clung to life. They were meant for those who had long forsaken the living world and sought only to understand death, not as a force of destruction, but as a path to power.

Rin had found the texts only through his constant questioning, through his desire to understand the mysteries of his cultivation. And in those pages, he found something far more than he had bargained for.

The first scroll he unfurled spoke of a time long before his birth—before the rise of the Azure Echo Sect, even before the foundations of the cultivation world had been established. It described the fall of an ancient god, a being whose very existence was tied to the concepts of death itself. This god was known as Yama. The name stirred something deep within Rin, but it was more than just recognition; it was a calling.

Yama had not always been a god of death, at least not in the way the world now understood the concept. He had once been a ruler—a lord over life and death, a being who wove the very fabric of existence. But like all gods, he had been brought down by forces greater than himself. His downfall was not due to a single betrayal, but the culmination of countless struggles, each one unraveling the fabric of his power.

But as Yama fell, something strange happened. His death did not come as a final end. It came as a transformation.

When the ancient god was slain, his essence was shattered, his very being torn into fragments. These fragments—some imbued with his divine will, others with the essence of his power—scattered across the mortal world. Some were consumed by the heavens themselves, twisted into the concept of immortality. Others were sealed away in forgotten places, where they would remain dormant, until the time came for them to be awakened.

Rin's eyes narrowed as he read on.

One fragment of Yama's power was sealed deep within the mortal realm, beneath layers of divine seals and blood oaths. It had been kept hidden, buried in the heart of the Azure Echo Sect—his very sect. His own sect had known of this fragment. They had even cultivated it.

The sect had long sought immortality, but they had never realized that the path to their goal would lead them into the very heart of death. The texts spoke of a secret ritual, one that had been performed centuries ago. The Azure Echo Sect's founders had known of Yama's fragment, and they had used it to forge a new form of cultivation—Death Concepts, powers derived from the very essence of death, meant to strengthen the sect and elevate its members.

But the price of this power was steep. In their arrogance, the founders of the sect had sealed away the core of Yama's essence. It was this core that had given birth to Rin's own Death Refinement Dao. His core—the very heart of his being—was not a natural birthright. It was a remnant of the god of death himself.

And this core, this power, was meant to be nothing more than a tool for the sect's gain. It had been chosen for him before he was even born. His body, his very soul, had been selected to bear the weight of Yama's curse.

Rin's hands clenched around the scroll, his knuckles white.

He had been used.

He had been nothing more than a vessel—a mere container for an ancient god's essence. The sect that had raised him, that had claimed to be his family, had not done so out of love or care. No. They had done so because they saw him as nothing more than a tool to harness the power of Yama's death fragment. They had raised him, trained him, only to use him for their own ambitions. And when they had finished with him, when they had squeezed every drop of potential from his body, they would have cast him aside, just like they had cast aside all the others who had borne the curse before him.

But Rin was different. He had escaped. He had shattered their plans, and now, here he was, standing in the very place where his past had been forged, learning the truth of his origins.

It was betrayal on a scale Rin had never anticipated. It was not just the heavens that had cursed him. It was his very own sect—his family—that had used him, that had bound him to this wretched fate. They had all but condemned him to be a puppet of death, to serve the will of a god long forgotten. And for what? For power? For immortality?

The weight of this revelation pressed down on him like a stone in his chest. His hatred for the heavens was nothing compared to what he felt for the Azure Echo Sect. They had not only betrayed him, but they had also betrayed the very essence of what it meant to be human. They had made a mockery of life and death, twisting it to their own ends.

Rin's hands trembled, and he let the scroll fall to the ground. His mind reeled. He could feel the darkness inside him stirring, the ancient essence of Yama's core pulsing in response to his emotions.

He was not just a victim. He was a weapon. A weapon forged from death itself.

But Rin would not let this truth break him. No, it would fuel him. This betrayal—this bitter knowledge—would become his fire. He had already walked the path of death. But now, he would burn that path to the ground. He would tear down the heavens. He would destroy everything that had ever used him, ever betrayed him, ever twisted his fate for their own gain.

His fists clenched once more, and a low, dark laugh rumbled in his chest.

He was no longer just Rin Xie, the cultivator of death.

He was the heir to Yama. He was the Death God's final fragment, and he would use that power to raze the world to the ground.

The Azure Echo Sect would pay.

The heavens would pay.

And when the ashes settled, there would be no trace left of the fools who had tried to control him.

To be continued...