Chronicles of the Trash God

The morning in the Valley of Ordures was no different from the night. A pale, gray haze blanketed the sky, filtering the sunlight into a weak, colorless glow. The air was thick with the tang of rust and decay, the scent clinging to Feng Xiao's skin and clothes as he stumbled through the wasteland.

His body screamed in protest with every step. The fight with the Trash Spirit had left him battered and bruised, his muscles aching from the strain of swinging the restored blade. His bare feet were torn and bleeding from stepping on jagged shards of metal, but he pressed on, his grip on the pearl tightening with every passing moment.

The pearl pulsed faintly in his hand, its warmth spreading through his palm and into his arm. It was a strange, comforting sensation, as though the artifact was alive and trying to reassure him. Feng Xiao wasn't sure what to make of it. The pearl had saved his life, yes, but the energy it had unleashed was... unnatural. Alien. It wasn't like the spiritual energy he had cultivated during his time in the Heavenly Dawn Sect—it was something else entirely.

And yet, he couldn't deny its power.

He glanced down at the restored blade strapped to his waist, its faintly glowing runes a constant reminder of what the pearl could do. The weapon was unlike anything he had ever seen—an ordinary blade transformed into a tool of destruction with just a single touch of the pearl's energy. But it hadn't come without a cost. He could still feel the faint scars on his hands, marks left behind by the pearl's power.

What was this thing? Why had it called to him? And, more importantly, what price would he have to pay to keep using it?

Feng Xiao's stomach growled loudly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He hadn't eaten since the day before his exile, and the gnawing hunger in his belly was becoming unbearable. He scanned his surroundings, his eyes darting between the piles of scrap metal and broken artifacts that littered the wasteland.

There was nothing. No animals, no plants—nothing that could sustain life. The Valley of Ordures was as barren as it was desolate, a graveyard of discarded tools and failed creations.

His eyes landed on a rusted cauldron half-buried in the ground a few paces away. He hesitated for a moment before approaching it, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to touch its surface. The metal was cold and rough beneath his fingers, its surface marred with dents and cracks.

The pearl pulsed again.

Feng Xiao felt the warmth spread through his hand as the cauldron began to shift beneath his touch. The cracks sealed themselves, the dents smoothing out as the rust flaked away to reveal gleaming bronze. Within moments, the cauldron looked as though it had just been forged, its surface polished and unmarred.

He stared at it in disbelief. The restoration process had been effortless, the pearl's power flowing through him like a natural extension of his own will. But the cauldron was still just a cauldron—restored, yes, but ultimately useless to him in his current state.

The faint whisper of the pearl tugged at his mind, guiding his gaze toward another pile of scrap nearby. Among the twisted metal and shattered tools, he spotted a collection of shards that glimmered faintly in the weak light. He approached cautiously, his fingers brushing against the fragments as the pearl's energy surged once more.

The shards began to shift, drawn together by the pearl's power. Feng Xiao watched in awe as they fused into a single object—a small, crude water collector with a simple spout. The restored artifact was nothing spectacular, but it was functional.

Feng Xiao's lips twitched into a faint smile. It wasn't food, but it was a start.

By midday, Feng Xiao had managed to piece together a small camp in the shadow of a crumbling stone structure. Using the pearl's power, he had restored a handful of basic tools: the water collector, a dented pot, and a small knife. It wasn't much, but it was enough to give him a fighting chance.

He sat cross-legged on the ground, staring at the faintly glowing pearl resting in his palm. The artifact's energy had grown dimmer with each restoration, its pulses less frequent. Feng Xiao frowned, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of its behavior. The pearl clearly had limits—he could feel it in the way its energy waned with each use. But what were those limits? How far could he push it before it stopped working altogether?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden noise—a faint rustling, barely audible over the low hum of the Valley. Feng Xiao's head snapped up, his hand instinctively going to the blade at his waist. He rose to his feet slowly, his eyes scanning the area around him.

The noise came again, louder this time. It was coming from behind a nearby scrap pile.

Feng Xiao's grip on the blade tightened as he took a cautious step forward. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins. He didn't know what to expect—another Trash Spirit, perhaps, or something worse. Whatever it was, he wasn't about to let it catch him off guard.

He rounded the corner of the scrap pile, his blade raised and ready.

What he saw made him freeze.

A figure was crouched among the debris, its back turned to him. It was humanoid, its body covered in tattered robes that hung loosely from its skeletal frame. The figure was rummaging through the scrap, its bony hands moving with a strange, almost frantic energy.

"Who's there?" Feng Xiao demanded, his voice sharp.

The figure froze, its movements ceasing abruptly. Slowly, it turned its head to look at him, and Feng Xiao felt a chill run down his spine.

The figure's face—or what remained of it—was a grotesque amalgamation of flesh and metal. One eye was a glowing red orb, its surface cracked and flickering. The other was a hollow socket, dark and empty. Its jaw was partially exposed, the bone fused with jagged shards of metal that jutted out at odd angles.

"A... living one," the figure rasped, its voice a harsh whisper. "How... unusual."

Feng Xiao took a step back, his blade raised defensively. "Stay back," he warned.

The figure tilted its head, its glowing eye flickering as it studied him. "You... reek of the pearl," it said. "That... cursed thing. You've touched it, haven't you?"

Feng Xiao's grip on the blade tightened. "What do you know about the pearl?" he demanded.

The figure let out a hollow laugh, the sound echoing through the wasteland. "What do I know?" it repeated. "I know enough to pity you, boy. That thing... it will give you power, yes. But it will take everything in return."

Feng Xiao's jaw clenched. "What are you talking about?"

The figure didn't answer. Instead, it rose to its feet, its movements jerky and unsteady. It stared at him for a long moment before turning away, its glowing eye dimming as it disappeared into the haze.

Feng Xiao stared after it, his mind racing. The figure's words echoed in his ears, a grim reminder of the unknown forces at play in the Valley.

But he didn't have time to dwell on them. The Valley of Ordures was a place of danger and despair, and if he wanted to survive, he couldn't afford to hesitate.

The pearl pulsed faintly in his hand, as though urging him forward. And Feng Xiao, with no other choice, obeyed.