Heavenly Rebellion: The Human Race's Rise to Prominence-Chapter 3: An Altar

Despite the despair he felt, curiosity also sparkled within him as he pushed himself forward.

He stumbled through the underbrush, ignoring the branches that scratched at his face and arms.

"I hope there's actually something here and I'm not just hallucinating like some insane guy," Feng thought to himself.

The faint pulsing glow in the distance grew brighter with every step, bathing the dark forest in an eerie silver light.

The shadows seemed to shift and dance as if alive, but Feng's focus remained fixed on the mysterious source of the light.

Finally, he broke through the dense foliage into a small clearing—and froze.

At the center stood an ancient stone altar, weathered and cracked with age.

Vines snaked along its surface, but they didn't conceal the intricate runes etched into the stone.

The runes even seemed to pulsate in a specific pattern, as if mimicking the quickening pace of his heart.

"What the hell is this thing supposed to be?" Feng whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum that filled the clearing.

His body was cold, and he felt like he would pass out sooner or later if he didn't find shelter soon.

The altar seemed to resonate in response, emitting a low humming vibration that caused Feng to shiver.

The sound clearly wasn't something a living being could make—like the altar itself was alive somehow.

"Am I going to get possessed by some 1,000-year-old demon if I get closer?" Feng's heart started to pound, yet he forced himself to step closer.

Slowly approaching the altar, he felt a strange energy emitting from it, though he wasn't sure if it was spiritual energy or some other kind of power.

"Ah, whatever. I was kicked out from the only home I've ever known.

If this thing kills me, I guess that's just how unlucky a Broken Soul is," Feng muttered to himself.

He reached out hesitantly, his fingers trembling as they hovered inches above the stone. '

Before he could touch it, a voice echoed in his mind.

"It seems someone worthy has finally come to my altar. Hopefully, this child isn't too unlucky."

The voice wasn't harsh; it even seemed calm, but it carried a weight that pressed down on Feng's very soul.

He staggered back, goosebumps spreading across his skin as he fell to the ground.

"Crap, so it was some old monster!" Feng started to panic as the rain began to fall much heavier now, the drops pattering against the foliage above him.

His thoughts started to race as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

"Was that supposed to be some weird awakening ceremony or something?"

Feng thought to himself, struggling to process whatever had just occurred.

"Damn it, if I'm just gonna die anyway, I'd rather die someplace that isn't as cold,"

Feng muttered as he forced himself to move away from the altar, not noticing a pair of eyes staring at him from the darkness.

"This child is interesting," the presence spoke before suddenly disappearing.

The moment it vanished, the altar collapsed as if its duty had been fulfilled and it no longer had any reason to continue existing.

As Feng ran through the forest, desperately searching for shelter, his mind unconsciously wandered back to the altar—

More specifically, to the voice that had spoken inside his head.

"It said that I was worthy. Does this mean I have some sort of power now?"

Feng suddenly felt a surge of excitement at the thought.

He quickly checked his cultivation base, hoping for some change in his body.

But his excitement quickly turned to disappointment.

He was still at the third level of Qi Condensation.

He still didn't have a Heaven's Pact.

He was still a Broken Soul.

The rain poured even harder now, thunder and lightning crackling in the background, pulling Feng from his thoughts.

He sighed.

"I should probably focus on finding shelter for now, or I'll die of hypothermia before even gaining some sort of power,"

Feng thought as he pushed forward, moving deeper into the forest.

The thick canopy above offered little relief from the downpour, but a large hollow at the base of a nearby tree caught his eye.

"I guess this hole will do for now." Grateful for even a small reprieve, Feng crawled into the hollow.

The space was cramped and damp, but it was better than standing out in the storm.

He hugged his knees to his chest, shivering as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"I hope I don't die from something like this, at least."

His thoughts started to grow muddy as his eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, and despite the cold and discomfort, sleep rapidly crept up on him.

His last thought before the darkness claimed him was of the altar and the mysterious voice he had heard before running off.

It had been a long time since Feng had such a vivid dream—

In fact, he had forgotten the last time he had dreamt of anything at all.

In his dream, he stood in an endless void, surrounded by swirling shadows and faint whispers.

The air was thick with an oppressive energy, and yet, strangely, he didn't feel afraid.

A figure suddenly emerged from the darkness, its form shifting and indistinct, like smoke given shape.

"What are you looking at, boy?" the figure asked, its voice echoing in the void.

When Feng heard the voice, he immediately recognized it as the one that had spoken inside his head when he touched the altar.

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But that wasn't the most important part—it was the overwhelming presence behind it.

It felt like this person had enough power to end him in an instant.

"I pay my respects, Senior," Feng quickly bowed his head, offering his greetings.

Even though he wasn't sure who this person was, the sheer presence of their power was more than enough to warrant respect.

This time, the voice didn't respond.

Instead, the figure warped, disappearing—only to reappear right in front of him.

"It's good that you aren't intimidated by me.

That courage will help you immensely in the future," the voice spoke quietly.

Feng was about to respond when suddenly—

He felt a searing pain in his chest, as if something was being permanently carved into his body.

He started to scream, the agony unbearable—

"AHHHHH!"

He woke up screaming in agony, like a pig being slaughtered, his eyes wide open.

Yet, after a few seconds, he quickly realized that he didn't feel anything at all.

There was no pain. Not even a wound.

"What the hell was that supposed to be?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

He had no idea what had just happened to him.

He didn't know what that voice was or if anything special had occurred.

But what he did know was that everything—the altar, the voice, the dream—was real.

The memory of it lingered clearly in his mind.

"Whoever that old fogey was, at least he's gone now," Feng thought to himself as he rubbed his chest.