Mo Yan was an average man. With average looks and average cultivation, there was absolutely nothing special about him. Perhaps that was the reason he was left to die amidst the shining Scavenger plains of Myris. Mo Yan clutched his stomach as his green robe slowly turned scarlet. His face was twisted by hatred and agony in equal measure, " Damn those traitorous dogs and damn 9 generations of their family. "

Blood pooled beneath Mo Yan as he struggled to stand and his face turned lifelessly pale. His life was coming to a close yet hatred still burned in his eyes. " Those sons of a whore, May the abyss swallow them and 9 generations of their dirty bloodline." A gentle wind passed over him and he swayed like a leaf in the wind until strength left his body and his legs couldn't support his weight any longer.

He tried to get back up but even that simple task was now beyond him. With his head buried in the dirt, Mo Yan silently muttered, " Can't forgive them. Can't forgive them." Like a chant, he repeated those words over and over again until his eyes turned dull and the fire of his life died out.

Yet as Mo Yao's fire of life faded some embers still burned in his body. The betrayal that he experienced and the hatred that he felt before death left a mark so deep that it didn't fade even after his soul scattered. Like a magnet, those embers attracted foul power to his dead carcass and yin qi slowly permeated his body until A new flame was born, a foul flame.

Days, weeks, months passed, and where once Mo Yan fell now something else rose. An unsightly creature with grey skin and white lifeless eyes that resembled a human but never could be one. It had an open gash on its left side that started from its stomach and ended at its chest yet the wound didn't discomfort the creature even a bit.

It looked around confused and lost. It felt coldness, such coldness. Warmth, it wanted warmth. There didn't seem to be any sources of it nearby so it awkwardly stumbled away. It walked for a long time and fruitlessly searched. It met several others like it. Some were in groups, some were alone. Others were bigger than it, while some were incomplete, broken, yet all of them were united in a certain way. All of them lost, all of them searching.

Time passed. It didn't matter how much time actually passed but to the creature, the hunger seemed eternal, neverending, and unbearable. It didn't matter if it was hungry for a second or millenium all that mattered was that it was hungry. It longed to sate its hunger for warmth, and that longing pushed the creature beyond sickness, exhaustion, and even mortality. It looked for a very long time, for decades perhaps even centuries yet it never found the warmth so the hunger never disappeared. The hunger that tortured it, the hunger that broke it.

Time passed and it monotonously marched forward. It could have probably marched for all eternity until the end of time, yet it didn't think about the end, too cold, too hungry. It could have aimlessly marched but it didn't. Warmth, the creature suddenly sensed warmth. It was close, it could tell. An instinct, a sense of purpose something that not even the hunger could dampen.

It looked for warmth and found them. They were different but similar. They had it inside them, that warmth it so desperately craved. It slowed down as it approached, they had so much warmth, surely they could share just a bit, but they didn't. They screamed and attacked, they selfishly hoarded all the warmth to themselves.

A new emotion blossomed in its heart. It felt envy. Why couldn't they share with it, all it wanted was just a little bit. Didn't they feel the cold, couldn't they help it? It questioned why were they so selfish, why were they so unfair, and so it hated.

It hated because they were selfish, it hated because they were unfair, and most of all it hated because it was hungry. So it broke them apart and freed the warmth. As they screamed and tried to hurt it, it hurt them in return. It bit, it tore, it twisted and so much more. All just to free some of that warmth they so selfishly hoarded. And just for a few moments, it felt bliss. It grew, it healed, it changed, it knew what's it like to be alive. Then the moment passed and the cold returned. So much more dreadful than before, so much scarier. Because now warmth wasn't just some vague fantasy. And so it hated because somewhere deep inside its primitive mind it knew it will never truly be warm.