Cultivator of the End: I Refine My Own Death-Chapter 103 – Dog of Heaven

Rin stood at the edge of the desolate valley, the weight of the Unclean God's essence still burning through him. The sky above had cracked open, its scarred expanse tearing away as celestial forces sought to realign the heavens, but Rin knew the rupture was not merely a celestial phenomenon—it was his presence, his being, that had caused it. He had become something beyond mortal understanding, something older than life itself.

Yet, even in this moment of profound transformation, he knew his fate was still bound to the heavens, to the forces that would stop at nothing to hunt him down. The scent of blood, death, and rage hung in the air like a warning, and it was not long before the ground beneath him trembled. It wasn't the wind; it was something far more dangerous—a predator, tracking him.

Rin had felt it before, that cold, predatory sensation that crawled along his spine like the breath of a storm. A hunter was near.

A Celestial Sect Hunter.

The wind howled as the figure emerged from the crack in the sky. Cloaked in celestial garb, the Hunter stood tall, radiating an aura of ancient authority. His presence warped the air itself, as if the heavens bent to his will. Behind him, a twisted, grotesque beast stalked—a divine beast forged from the stitched corpses of fallen cultivators. Its body was a patchwork of flesh and bone, a grotesque amalgamation that moved with an eerie grace. Its many eyes blinked in unison, its teeth bared in a silent snarl, but what was truly unsettling was its voice.

"You," the beast spoke, its voice a cacophony of tortured souls, "you are nothing but heir to the filth."

The words were like a slap across Rin's face, seething with mockery and contempt. The divine beast's head tilted, its mouth curling into something resembling a grin as it continued.

"Born of death, you are but a worm, writhing in the dirt of the heavens' creation. A thing unworthy to even exist—let alone to challenge the gods."

Rin's hands clenched into fists, the black ichor of his Death Refinement Core pulsing in response to the insult. His breath came slow and measured, the venom of the heavens attempting to stir something deep within him—a fury that could unravel the world. But he forced it down. This was not his time to unleash destruction. This was the moment to refine, to turn the tide, and to test the true extent of the power he had gained.

His fingers brushed the air, and in that instant, the power of the Soul-Cracked Step surged through him. The technique, born of the grievances and regrets of the dead he had absorbed in the Valley of Withered Bone, was now his weapon. It allowed him to step beyond mortal limitations, to shift the very fabric of space with every step. He felt the ground beneath his feet bend, his soul stretching outward, reaching into the unseen.

Without a moment's hesitation, Rin moved.

The divine beast lunged, its monstrous jaws snapping toward him with the force of a celestial tempest. But Rin was faster. His body moved as though guided by the whispers of the dead themselves. With a single step, he vanished into thin air, reappearing behind the beast. The space around him seemed to fold, a silent, invisible force wrapping around his every movement. The Soul-Cracked Step was not just a movement of speed—it was an attack on reality itself.

The divine beast snarled, spinning on its heel, its many eyes narrowing in rage. But Rin had already set his trap.

The ground beneath the beast shattered like glass, and from the fractured earth, jagged spikes of death-forged energy erupted, impaling the beast from all sides. It roared in agony as its body was pierced, the stitched flesh cracking, revealing the raw, chaotic power of the death that bound it together. But it was not the end—it had only begun to fight back.

From the center of the beast's chest, a dark, oily substance began to spill forth, swirling like a storm of liquid darkness. The poison was ancient, toxic beyond belief—woven into the very fabric of the divine beast. Rin felt the venom seep into his skin, felt it crawling through his veins, poisoning his very essence.

"Foolish worm," the divine beast hissed, its voice dripping with disdain, "you think you can escape your fate? The heavens have already decided. The gods have already spoken."

But Rin did not respond. His body was already fading, slipping into a haze of black ichor and death energy. His form began to pulse with an unbearable force, the poison spreading through him, but also awakening something deeper—something older. His Death Refinement Core thrummed with a low, guttural hum, as though it was feeding on the divine poison, transforming it, distilling it into something new.

With one final surge of energy, Rin plunged his hand into the divine beast's chest, grasping the heart of the creature—a remnant of celestial life that had no place in this world. He crushed it with a single motion, and the beast's body collapsed into a pile of lifeless, decaying flesh.

But even in death, the beast's taunt echoed in Rin's mind.

"The Unclean God..." the beast's last words hissed, its voice barely a whisper now. "Even the gods fear... that which you have awakened."

Rin took a shallow breath, the black ichor still pulsing through his veins, and collapsed to one knee. The poison was relentless, but his Death Refinement Core had already begun its work, refining the venom, purging the toxins, and forcing them into a new, usable form.

He could feel the power surging through him, but it was not enough. He needed more. He needed to hear the death of this beast, to understand the last remnants of its existence. His thoughts turned to the Death Echo Talismans—a technique he had only just begun to comprehend. The concept was simple: by refining the corpses of the dead, he could capture the final thoughts and remnants of their souls. It was a technique born from the deepest pits of death, but now, it felt like a natural extension of his power.

With a wave of his hand, Rin summoned the fallen body of the beast to him. The once-monstrous form collapsed before him, its eyes empty and dull. He pressed his palm against its skull, his fingers curling into the jagged cracks of its bones.

The talismans materialized, glowing faintly in the air around him. They were no more than whispers of energy—fragile, yet powerful. As he refined the beast's corpse, the final thoughts of the creature began to take form in his mind. Its fear. Its defiance. Its hatred. And, buried beneath it all, the terrifying truth it had hinted at before death—the fear that echoed in the halls of the gods.

He could hear it now—the thought that the heavens had tried to erase. The Unclean God.

The divine beast had known something Rin had yet to fully grasp: the Unclean God was not simply a force of destruction. It was something that had the potential to unmake even the heavens themselves. The Celestial Order feared it. They had cast it aside, buried it, erased it from history... but it had not disappeared. It had only slumbered.

And now, Rin had awoken it.

The wind began to stir again, but this time it wasn't just a breeze—it was the howling of a storm, the sound of something much darker approaching. Rin's eyes hardened, his hands clutching the Death Echo Talismans as the voice of the divine beast faded from his mind. The heavens were coming, and they would not stop until he was destroyed.

But Rin had no intention of dying today.

Not when he was just beginning to understand what it meant to live in the shadow of the Unclean God.

To be continued...