Stepping into the dark passage, I found the air growing heavier with each step, laden with a rich Qi unlike anything I'd experienced. The deeper I ventured, the more intense that sensation became, until my body almost vibrated with the ambient energy. By the time I neared the passage's end, it felt as though I could scoop raw Qi from the air with my bare hands.
At last, I emerged into a small chamber, and the sight took my breath away: a shimmering pool, its surface glimmering with liquid Qi. I'd known that at the peak stage of Qi Condensation, Qi condensed into liquid form within a cultivator's dantian, but seeing it externally—a spiritual pool existing in the real world—was astonishing. Overhead, a tiny droplet slowly coalesced, suspended in midair as though defying gravity. It never dripped, only hovered, feeding a trickle of Qi into the pool over who knew how many centuries.
"So this is the final gift," I murmured, stepping closer. My instincts told me that one dip in that pool could purge every wound. A powerful healing resource—and beyond that, it was pure Qi to fuel cultivation.
Without wasting time, I stripped my ruined outer robe, left only in my undershirt and pants, then eased into the pool. The moment the liquid Qi touched my skin, it surged into me, as if we were magnetically drawn. I found I didn't even need to circulate a technique as the Qi poured through my meridians on its own. My eyes drifted shut, and I sank deeper, letting the dense energy envelop me.
Healing happened instantly. Every laceration, every bruise, even the leftover corruption from the elder's lethal blow—gone in a tide of warmth. Hours slipped by in a blissful haze as I fully focused on mending the deeper damage. Tissues rebuilt themselves with uncanny speed, bones re-knit seamlessly. That gaping wound in my stomach sealed shut, leaving no scar. Under normal circumstances, such injuries would take weeks or months to heal, even with valuable pills; here, it took merely one day. And still, the pool hardly diminished—barely a tenth had gone, leaving a grand reservoir.
Once my body was fully healed, I began to cultivate in earnest. The Qi Condensation realm thrived on precisely this step. My mind turned inward, guiding the rushing current of liquid Qi to fill my dantian at breakneck speed. Hours passed by.
Ten percent... twenty... seventy... My dantian swelled, Qi condensing at an incredible rate. Finally, one hundred percent—the culminating threshold for the fifth stage. My meridians glowed with power as I broke through the barrier separating the fourth from the fifth stage, my body thrumming with new strength.
Yet the pool remained mostly untapped. I went on, Qi poured faster, surging in with heightened fervor. Sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety... then again one hundred. Another barrier shattered, propelling me into the sixth stage of Qi Condensation. The very realm that divided outer sect from inner sect disciples: a milestone normally requiring years of training. I'd ascended from the fourth stage to the sixth in scarcely a day—a miraculous feat.
But the pool still stood at around one-quarter full. So I pressed on, letting the torrent continue. My mind spun as I witnessed Qi levels inside me spike upward, pushing me toward the next stage's threshold. A frantic swirl of energy bombarded my meridians, forcing me to refine it meticulously. Forty percent... fifty, sixty... My dantian felt on fire, nearing the cusp of another breakthrough, the seventh stage. That gap was far more formidable, though, and the pool's potency began to wane as I absorbed every last drop of Qi.
Sixty-one... sixty-two... sixty-three... The influx slowed. My body, near saturation, couldn't force the threshold so easily. Finally, the pool's power dissipated in a rush of fading light. Opening my eyes, I found myself sitting in a bare patch of stone—the once-sparkling liquid Qi now gone.
I stood slowly, testing my limbs. Strength radiated through my muscles, my meridians practically brimming with energy. Though I hadn't reached the seventh stage, the jump to the sixth stage was already astounding, transforming me from a near-novice into a peak mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivator in just over a day.
Exhaling a long breath, I checked my hands—steady. No tremors. The pain or fatigue from the battles had vanished. My veins hummed with renewed life.
Straightening, I cast a final look at the now-empty basin. "Truly a final gift," I whispered. Even at three-quarters exhausted, it had propelled me through two consecutive breakthroughs. The last quarter had brought me halfway through the sixth stage, rapidly approaching the seventh. With a few more resources, I might cross it soon and reach the late stage of Qi Condensation.
Satisfied, I turned from the empty recess, carefully stepping away from where the droplet overhead had once dripped its dew. For the moment, I relished in the improvement. From the brink of death to the sixth stage, all in under two days. My future had indeed shifted. Clenching my fist, I felt Qi swirl along my arm in a tangible rush.
I curled my fingers into a fist, feeling the pulse of newly gained power resonate through my bones. My Qi pool had swelled—at least tripled—in volume, each breath saturating my meridians with energy that thrummed in time with my heartbeat. I let out a slow breath, savoring the moment. Even if the Foundation Establishment elder remained out of reach for now, I sensed that the rest of his squad—the very ones I had once needed cunning and stealth to dispatch—would be no match for my current strength in direct combat.
But this was only the beginning. Resting a palm lightly over my abdomen, I recalled the Crimson Sage's words about the stone idol now nestled in my dantian. What secrets do you hold? I began circulating Qi inward, directing it toward the idol. No sooner had I done so than a wave of ancient, bloodthirsty aura coursed into my mind, accompanied by a voice filled with raw malice.
"Power is not given—it is taken. True strength requires sacrifice, not just from yourself but from the world around you."
The words shimmered in my consciousness, dripping with bloodlust and a sense of ominous darkness. I repeated them quietly: "Power is not given, it is taken..." Understanding dawned. This was the core philosophy—the Dao—of the Crimson Sage's inheritance. An endless pursuit of power through sacrificial means. As I contemplated it, information flooded my mind—visions and text that imprinted themselves directly into my memory, bypassing the need for scrolls or manuals. I found myself instantly grasping the core concepts of two specific techniques, the knowledge slotting into place with crystal clarity.
Two distinct techniques took shape there, directly imprinting themselves into my memory without the usual step of studying a slip or a manual. I still knew I would need refinement to wield them safely, but the baseline understanding was already laid out, as though injected straight into my thoughts.
The first technique was called the Crimson Sacrifice Method, a forbidden art that transforms the user's physical pain and injuries into raw power. It demanded self-inflicted harm—only suffering caused by one's own hand would trigger its effects, not wounds received from external sources. The deeper the voluntary pain, the more substantial the surge in strength, speed, and Qi output. My mind showed me four distinct levels, each more brutal than the last.
The initial stage was Scarlet Ripple, activated by a minor self-inflicted injury such as a shallow cut, just enough to draw a small amount of blood. This would spark a quick ripple of force, raising the user's strength and speed by around ten to twenty percent for a short time.
Next came Crimson Surge, requiring deeper wounds or even the breaking of bones by one's own hand. This state amplified strength and agility by fifty percent, and Qi-based attacks gained a vicious, blood-tinged energy that made them deadlier.
Then there was Bloodfire Ascension, demanding truly severe acts such as slashing vital areas or fracturing multiple bones. That agony would propel the user's Qi into a blazing, crimson-colored flame, setting enemies ablaze while amplifying the user's physical form by at least one hundred percent.
Finally came Sacrificial Wrath, the pinnacle of desperation, which necessitated a life-threatening injury like amputating a limb or nearly killing oneself. That stage allowed the cultivator to briefly contend with opponents several realms above their own level, though unlike the lesser stages that mostly caused pain or fatigue, Sacrificial Wrath promised dire consequences such as organ failure, extreme Qi deviation, or other permanent damage.
The other technique was called the Crimson Reaver Method, and it was every bit as forbidden as the Crimson Sacrifice Method.
Whereas the Crimson Sacrifice Method took one's own agony and molded it into strength, the Reaver Method turned an enemy's life force into a catalyst for power.
"This is an entire cultivation method," I found myself musing. "And it also promotes the user to kill." The essence of the Crimson Reaver Method was murder, plain and simple: take the blood essence from another, refine it into potent Qi, and permanently strengthen your body and cultivation base. Each death at one's hands could become a stepping stone toward greater power, and the stronger the opponent, the more exponential the benefits. But that was also the risk—devouring blood Qi beyond one's capacity could result in devastating backlash.
The Crimson Reaver Method demanded that one refine the blood of enemies into a sort of "blood qi," which could then integrate into one's existing cultivation. The user's body and Qi pool would grow in tandem, fueled by the stolen vitality. With mastery, this process led to the formation of a blood core, called Crimson Core, a crystallized reservoir of condensed blood Qi within the practitioner's body. That reservoir would offer dramatically increased stamina, letting the cultivator fight longer and harder than most.
Aside from that, there were also accompanying techniques with this cultivation technique. Blood Reaping Strike would allow me to deliver a decisive blow to a still-living foe, absorbing its blood essence even before death.
Sanguine Devour, meanwhile, would harvest blood from any and all fallen enemies in a broad radius, absorbing it into the user to be refined into pure Qi.
Crimson Core Formation represented the apex of advanced usage—concentrating all that stolen vitality into a single spot, which would then form the Crimson Core, a crimson-hued orb in the dantian, a secondary Qi source that could be tapped at will.
Then there was Scarlet Empowerment, a short-term surge of speed, resilience, and raw strength fueled by burning the blood Qi stored in the core.
And finally the Blood Tide Domain. This technique creates a domain filled with a dense, oppressive aura of blood. Enemies within the domain have their Qi suppressed, while the practitioner's blood qi surges, greatly enhancing their combat power.
Finally, there were also stages of mastery within this cultivation technique. The Scarlet Initiate stage, which I would begin at, allowed me to simply absorb blood Qi from those I killed.
Once I formed a genuine Crimson Core, I'd rise to the Crimson Ascendant stage, where my capacity to store blood Qi would become far more formidable.
Eventually, mastering the backlash from heavy absorption and unlocking the Blood Tide Domain would place me at the Blood Sovereign stage.
And at the very top, the Reaver Monarch stage. At this stage, one has absolute mastery over the Crimson Reaver Method. There, one could forge multiple Blood Cores, layering them like engines of unstoppable might, and wield a Blood Tide Domain as a weapon that could snuff out entire armies.
My thoughts were still aflame with detail, leaving me reeling and breathless. Two monstrous arts—one that weaponized my own blood and pain, and another that weaponized the blood of my foes. Both undeniably sinister, both sinfully powerful.
In my head, the earlier words of the Crimson Sage seemed to resonate: power is not given—it is taken. Now I understood that truth in two ways—through sacrificing myself and through sacrificing others. Two paths that encouraged the way of blood, either turning my own injuries into fuel or devouring the life force of those I slew. It felt more than a little dangerous, a dual-edged sword that could lead me down a path of endless bloodshed if I wasn't careful.
Strength was essential in the cultivation world. Closing my eyes, I let out a slow breath, trying to calm the whirlwind inside. These two techniques I had gained felt like cheats, and I suspected they would remain potent even beyond the Qi Condensation realm. If this was merely a glimpse of what I could acquire, what unimaginable gains awaited me at Foundation Establishment and beyond? But I set those thoughts aside for now and headed toward the passage that, this time, led upward.
I wasn't sure how long I'd spent in this cave—between my bouts of unconsciousness, the trial, and the cultivation session. But the transformations I'd undergone were staggering. Even if the Nightshade Monastery boasted potent manuals of its own, I couldn't shake the feeling that what I'd just acquired outstripped their standard offerings. More than that, these two techniques would grow alongside me instead of slipping into obsolescence the way simpler ones like Shadow Infusion or Silent Fang might.
Making my way along the corridor, I reached its end and paused at what seemed a dead end of solid stone. As I drew nearer, the rock shimmered briefly, forming a door that slid aside. Beyond it lay the slope of the small hill where I had almost lost my life—the spot outside where I'd been trapped. The door snapped shut the moment I stepped into the light.
No sooner had I emerged than a tremendous aura locked onto me, but one I recognized at once—Elder Sun Min. I tensed for a heartbeat, but his silhouette appeared almost instantly, drifting down with the grace of a high-level cultivator. His long purple hair rippled in the breeze, and I recalled that day he had guided me to the Nightshade Monastery.
"Kid, are you oka—" he began, tone worried. But the instant his Qi scanned me, he froze mid-sentence, eyes going wide. Then, to my surprise, a booming laughter erupted from his chest.
"Bahahahahahah! This is unbelievable!" he managed after a long moment of mirth. "Not only have you fully recovered, but you've jumped to the sixth stage of Qi Condensation?" Another laugh shook his shoulders. "In less than two months, from mortal to sixth stage—by the heavens, you're turning logic on its head."
I silently reflected. Two months at the Monastery, plus two more since I'd first arrived in this world. Four months total, and I had already reached the sixth stage of Qi Condensation. Progress that would be considered monstrous yet here I am still nothing more than a fledgling, a mere speck at the bottom of the cultivation ladder.
Back on Earth, I was blind to the vastness of the universe. I had believed in the limitations of physics and in the unshakable laws that governed reality. The idea that there were worlds beyond our own—places where men wielded power capable of shattering mountains and tearing the heavens apart—had never even crossed my mind. And yet, here I stood, a living testament to my past ignorance.
But even now, even after all I had experienced, I knew next to nothing about this world. I understood its surface, its basic structures, but the true depths of its power remained a mystery. If Qi Condensation was merely the first step, then what lay beyond? How vast was the road ahead? What unfathomable forces lurked in the higher realms, their strength beyond my current comprehension? The unknown stretched before me like an unpainted canvas, an infinite expanse of mysteries waiting to be uncovered. And I would uncover them. My curiosity—no, my very nature—demanded it.
And yet, there was another mystery that lingered in my mind.
If I were to add the time I had spent drifting through space before my arrival, it would have been five and a half years since my time at ANHS had come to an abrupt halt. But in this universe, in this world where Qi bent the very fabric of existence, how did time truly flow?
Time was relative. That much I understood. But here, it could very well be something else entirely. Was a moment in this realm equivalent to decades on Earth? Centuries? Or was it the opposite—was my absence nothing more than a fleeting breath in the grand scheme of time?
I had no way of knowing. No way of measuring.
For all I knew, ANHS had already crumbled to dust, its students mere whispers in history, long since passed into oblivion while I remained unchanged. Or perhaps, should I ever return, I would find everything exactly as I had left it, as if I had never disappeared at all.
It was a paradox I had no means to resolve. But in the end, it didn't matter.
Here, only strength dictated reality. And so, no matter how much I pondered the nature of time, it would not change my path. The past was nothing more than an echo. The future remained uncertain.
And the only truth that mattered was the one I would carve for myself.
My thoughts were interrupted as Sun Min eased his laughter into a broad grin, his sharp gaze never leaving me. He stepped closer, the weight of his presence pressing against the air.
"Not to mention," he continued, amusement laced in his voice, "only a week ago, when you sounded that alarm, I rushed over—only to find an entire squad dead. All but you." He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "I won't applaud your choice of letting your sect mates fend for themselves, but I suppose it was the only option. And in the end, you finished the job yourself. Alone. Still breathing despite it all."
He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "I have no words."
He glanced at the ground where the hidden cavern entrance had sealed itself. "I saw how that puny cultivator from Bloodmoon escaped, but I expected you wouldn't. When I discovered you were gone, I roamed this entire area, searching for an opening into that hill. Found none. I won't pry into whatever fortune you stumbled upon. Your secrets are your own, and I've no right to demand them. But if you've truly grown so strong... well, let's just say this elder is pleased you've emerged intact."
"Thank you, Elder," I said quietly, bowing my head in a gesture of respect. Part of me was surprised at his discretion; many cultivators would have pried relentlessly or even tried to kill me on the spot for a chance at my good fortune. But Sun Min seemed genuinely content that I'd made such startling progress, and I welcomed that rare tolerance.
He nodded in acknowledgment, then I asked, "Elder, you already know which sect the enemies belonged to?"
Sun Min's wide grin flashed. "Indeed," he said, folding his arms. "I alerted the Monastery the moment I discovered the massacre. They'll be packing up any hour now, about to flee the Nocturnis Vale since they failed so spectacularly—especially after you sounded that alarm and forced their hand."
He paused, his expression turning feral. A potent and bloodthirsty aura surged around him, changing his vibe from warm to deadly in a heartbeat. "Kid, let me bring you to kill," he said, voice brimming with malicious amusement. Before I could reply, I felt an invisible current of Qi latch onto me. Suddenly, we were airborne, shooting forward at breakneck speed. Even with my new cultivation, I couldn't fully grasp how he moved so fast. The world blurred beneath us, terrain and trees rushing by in a matter of heartbeats.
Within a frighteningly short span, Sun Min began to slow. The wind stilled around us as he descended toward an area where I glimpsed countless cultivators, forming an ironclad net around a smaller encampment. The camp's banner—a large piece of battered cloth dyed crimson—flaunted the symbol of a dripping moon. Bloodmoon Dynasty. This was the sect that had attacked us during our mission, and now they were cornered by Nightshade Monastery forces.
We hovered briefly before drifting to the ground, where a circle of uniformed disciples stood poised to strike. Thick tension colored the air, anticipating bloodshed at any moment.
Sun Min guided us toward a beautiful young woman in a pale green robe, her posture regal, her long hair swaying in the breeze. I recognized her immediately as the woman I'd once spotted outside the Hall of Resonance, the one with a guqin in her lap and an icy aura that matched her beauty. She exuded a power weaker than Sun Min but still a force to be reckoned.
Seeing us approach, she cast a quick, evaluating glance in my direction, as if noting my changed cultivation, and turned to Sun Min without remarking on it. In the next instant, we were fully landed, dust settling around our feet. All around, Nightshade disciples braced themselves, waiting for the command to strike. The Bloodmoon Dynasty's ragged defenders loitered behind a barricade, ready to make a final, desperate stand.
She greeted Sun Min with a respectful bow, which he returned in kind. "Elder Zhou Zhiqiu, are the students ready?" he asked, voice thrumming with anticipation.
"Yes," she answered calmly. "We are ready at your command."
"Perfect. I'll be observing from here," Sun Min said, stepping aside. "You have the lead."
The woman, who I now knew was called Zhou Zhiqiu, nodded, turning to address the assembled cultivators of the Nightshade Monastery. Her clear, measured voice cut through the tension:
"Disciples of Nightshade Monastery, heed me! The Bloodmoon Dynasty has stained the soil of our domain with our blood. They dared to kill our disciples, challenge our authority, and plan a rebellion! Let us repay their actions with steel and flame. Show them that our unity and our sect are unrivaled.
"On this day, spare none who draw arms against us. Seize their stronghold and leave no path for them to flee. Under the mandate of the Nightshade Monastery, I order you—crush the Bloodmoon Dynasty in one final blow. Go forth, and let none escape!"
At her words, the Nightshade cultivators broke into motion. A hush of adrenaline preceded the thunderous rush, weapons raised, Qi flaring as they poured into the besieged sect's territory. In moments, the defensive perimeter erected by the Bloodmoon Dynasty cracked under the assault. The outnumbered and outclassed defenders gave ground, panic spreading among their ranks.
Leading the charge at the forefront was Zhou Zhiqiu herself, her robes billowing in the sudden gusts of spiritual energy. Her gaze locked onto a man with long black hair and faint streaks of gray—clearly the Bloodmoon sect leader. Huddled around him were a handful of frightened subordinates, but their eyes flicked nervously at the overwhelming might of our forces.
I also spotted the elder, who had nearly ended my life days before, lurking near the rear with terror painted across his face. He knew, as well as anyone, how dire their situation was.
Zhou Zhiqiu then lifted her arms in a serene but lethal gesture. A swirling storm of chill Qi answered her call, the temperature dropping abruptly. Snow and shards of razor-sharp ice spun in a roiling tempest behind her. Without warning, she unleashed a barrage of ice shards at the Bloodmoon sect leader, forcing him to erect a crimson barrier in defense—a wicked glow pulsing from within, shaped by ghastly faces twisting in the magical shield.
But her assault was relentless. The barrier fractured under repeated impacts, and finally the sect leader leapt aside, narrowly dodging the barrage of attacks. He grunted as two shards slammed into him—a deep wound in the shoulder and another puncturing his knee. Around him, some of Zhou Zhiqiu's attacks missed their mark and skewered Bloodmoon disciples instead, prompting horrific screams and the inevitable stillness of final moments. Twenty disciples instantly perished.
Realizing he was moments from defeat, the man bit his tongue, spitting forth his blood essence to conjure an immense, demonic skull. The air trembled with dark Qi. Nightshade cultivators instinctively retreated a step. Yet Zhou Zhiqiu remained unmoved, her expression composed.
She channeled a second wave of intense cold into the air, summoning a colossal phoenix of ice. Over a hundred meters in wingspan, the mystical bird dove straight for the skull. Upon impact, the skull cracked, half of it freezing solid. A second strike from the icy phoenix shattered the frozen remains like glass.
Next, it opened its enormous maw and unleashed a focused beam of frost toward the sect leader. Caught off-guard and already wounded, the man failed to fully dodge. The blast of cold energy carved a lethal hole in his chest. He gasped, staggering backward, his eyes filled with desperate fury and terror.
"Help me, Ancestor!" he shrieked, his voice rasping with agony.
His plea summoned a fierce aura that practically shook the battlefield, and from the crowd emerged a wrinkled old man who appeared in his sixties. He radiated an oppressive might much stronger than Zhou Zhiqiu's, though as soon as he locked his aura onto her, Elder Sun Min let out a sharp "Hmph!" and exerted his own. At that moment, it became clear who was stronger. The old man's eyes flickered, recognizing he was overshadowed by Sun Min's ferocious Qi.
While the two engaged in this tense aura standoff, I quietly decided it was time to test out my new techniques. Slipping away, I moved to the edge of the battlefield, where smaller skirmishes and attempts at flight were happening. Spotting an eighth-stage Qi Condensation cultivator trying to escape, I took the initiative.
He noticed me and sneered, contempt contorting his features. "A measly sixth-stage disciple thinks he can kill me? Even if you're part of the Mona—" He never finished. I burst forward, accelerating suddenly, plunging my arm forward in a spearing motion that caved into his chest. My hand closed around his heart—already half-destroyed from the violent impact—and crushed it in one savage grip. His attempt at a gasp became a final, silent exhalation.
I activated the Crimson Reaver Method. A surge of red-tinted Qi rippled through my meridians as I drew in his blood essence, guiding it into my dantian. I refined that blood energy into fresh Qi and raw strength. My body crackled with newly absorbed force, my Qi pool edging closer to full capacity.
"This technique is dangerously addictive," I mused, feeling the temptation to kill more simply to experience the sweet rush of augmentation. "But if I'm going to master it, now is the best time."
I scanned the battlefield. Many were locked in pitched combat, but a few Bloodmoon disciples had broken off, clearly hoping to slip away unnoticed. I only targeted the ones fleeing, unwilling to draw the attention of my fellow sect members to what I was doing.
Multiple enemies fell in quick succession, each providing another harsh burst of Qi essence:
"How...?!" croaked one as I pierced his throat with an arcing slash of my hand, draining his life in the same heartbeat.
71%
"I-I surrender—!" choked another just before I silenced him with a precise thrust to the heart, devouring his blood Qi.
72%
"You can't—this is impo—" sputtered a third, eyes glazed with terror as I shattered his ribcage, drawing out his essence in the same fluid motion.
74%
Each kill ratcheted my Qi pool higher, an undeniable wave of power swelling in my core.
...76%... 80%... 84%... 86%...
Amid that violent chaos, a furious shriek broke above the din. I glanced back in time to see Zhou Zhiqiu, now free from the old man's interference, plunging a massive ice pillar through the Bloodmoon sect master's wounded torso. His life ebbed away, blood surged onto the ground in a wide crimson pool. A shimmering core spun in the air before cracking into shards, undone by her final blow.
"Huh, is this the core of a Core Formation cultivator?" I thought, amazed by seeing this core crumble apart.
At the same moment Zhou Zhiqiu delivered her final, icy judgment upon the Bloodmoon sect master, Elder Sun Min turned his attention to the old man on the opposite flank—the ancestor of the Bloodmoon Dynasty. But seeing his forces routed, and his fellow members cut down, that old man's bravado crumbled. With desperation etched into his every feature, he flailed his arms as he faced Sun Min's deadly approach.
"W-wait, stop!" he shrieked, his voice raw with panic. "Let us resolve everything peacefully, please!"
Sun Min's response came first as a short bark of laughter, then quieted into an iron-edged calm. "You killed our disciples," he said, each syllable tinged with menace. "You tried to murder our best talent, and then schemed to overthrow the Nightshade Monastery. Yet now you dare beg for mercy?" He raised a brow, unamused. "Everything exists in this world, but not medicine for regret."
The instant he uttered those words, the very atmosphere in Nocturnis Vale shifted, plunging into a suffocating darkness. Though twilight already cloaked the land, this was something altogether deeper—like a cloak of starless night descending. Eldritch whispers seemed to ripple through the air.
A scream tore through the hush, snapping my attention over to the old man. In the murky gloom, his aura thrashed about wildly, but all I could see of his physical form was a vague silhouette, consumed from the edges inward. His skin peeled away in strips, revealing muscle and tissue that then disintegrated into black motes. Organs and bones evaporated in turn, and from his gaping mouth came a final chorus of screams.
I stood transfixed, unable to look away from the brutal scene in front of me. A minuscule figure, resembling the old man—a chibi version of himself—tore itself free, trying to flee. But Sun Min's darkness devoured that too before it could fly a dozen meters.
"Please, senior, have mercy!" the old man howled, his voice cracking into raw terror. "You know how hard it is to reach the Nascent Soul realm. Let us resolve—ghh—" He never finished. Sun Min's technique continued unabated, scattering the little spirit until it vanished completely, leaving no trace. In his last breath, I heard the old man spitting curses: "I curse your bloodline and your sect! Let your lineage rot in—" and then that, too, was gone.
A single exhalation slipped from my lips. The old man had once been a formidable, Nascent Soul cultivator—yet he stood no chance whatsoever before Elder Sun Min. That black aura, some advanced technique beyond my comprehension, snuffed him out in moments. A slight shudder ran through my spine at the stark difference of power I witnessed: two Nascent Soul experts, but clearly worlds apart in strength.
I glanced at Zhou Zhiqiu, who inclined her head in approval at Sun Min's decisive move, her frosty expression unchanging. The battlefield around us began settling into grim silence as the Bloodmoon Dynasty's resistance crumbled. And I... I could only stand amazed at the spectacle, a reminder of how vast the gap was between my newly gained strength and the heights of an elder like Sun Min.
Just then, in that moment of amazement, I spotted the elder who had nearly killed me days ago. He was a Foundation Establishment cultivator, but now he staggered with deep wounds, desperate for an escape. No one else pursued him, as everyone was still entranced by what they saw just moments ago.
The edges were, of course, manned by other sect members, but there was a chance he'd try to break through. "This is my opportunity," I thought. Without pause, I darted after him, Qi thrumming with anticipation. I couldn't ignore such a chance to feed the Crimson Reaver Method another chunk of potent life force, especially one of a Foundation Establishment cultivation.
I quickly closed in on the wounded elder, my Qi thrumming, though he noticed my approach immediately—at the Foundation Establishment realm, his senses were sharp. For a moment, as we locked eyes, I glimpsed terror and frustration still fresh in his features. Yet as he registered who I was, something like relief flickered, followed by hot anger. A raw laugh burst from his throat, filled with bitterness and murderous intent.
"It's you, damn brat!" he snarled, his voice raw with hatred. "Because of you, we lost the inheritance, and because of you, my sect is being wiped out!" Hatred seethed in his tone. Despite his injuries, he raised his arm, Qi crackling at his palm. "And yet you stand here, not just healed but jumping two entire stages in mere days? Do you think that's enough to kill me?"
He gathered his breath, aura swelling, his voice snapping with fury. "Naive brat! As you don't know the immensity of heaven and earth, I will teach you a final lesson, you damned brat with an unchanging face! I will kill—"
Before he could finish spewing threats, I thrust my hand inward—into my own chest. My fingers drove just past muscle and bone, narrowly avoiding vital organs. Blood erupted, spattering my clothes and the ground at our feet. A wave of agony shot through me, but my face remained impassive as I met his wide-eyed stare. All his wrath and scorn momentarily dissolved into stunned confusion.
"What... the hell are you doing?!" he choked out. He watched in utter disbelief as I yanked my bloodied hand free, droplets of crimson splattering. It made no sense to him. For me, however, it was the precise trigger I needed.
Searing pain throbbed at my chest, but I willed it into the flow of Qi, activating the Crimson Sacrifice Method. Due to the severity of the injury, the third stage, Bloodfire Ascension, activated. I had no inclination to test lower tiers first. Instantly, a jolt tore through my meridians, as if raw, scorching energy erupted from the wound. My Qi surged, doubling in strength in a breath's time.
A deep crimson glow burst from every pore of my body, swirling around me like a violent blaze. Runes of blood-red light shimmered across my skin, and a portion of my hair tinted with the same savage hue. The aura I emitted was no longer the subdued presence of a sixth-stage Qi Condensation disciple—it glowed tangibly, thrashing in the air as a fierce, roiling current.
The elder's disbelief deepened. He stumbled back, eyes darting between my still-bleeding chest and the terrifying red aura that now engulfed me. "What are you...?" His words came choked, all bravado gone. The sight of me deliberately tearing into my own flesh rattled him beyond measure.
Each breath set my wound burning, but it fueled the technique further. Flames of scarlet Qi licked around my limbs, as if they couldn't wait to devour everything in my path. The elder tried to gather his Qi in defense, but my newly unleashed might gave me an edge he hadn't foreseen. I could see in his eyes how he understood that I was no longer a helpless lamb, no easy prey.
He snarled, attempting one last posture of defiance. "You're insane! Do you truly think—"
I didn't let him finish. Pushing off with my newly doubled strength, I launched forward. The sensation was exhilarating—like stepping into a higher realm temporarily, my muscles coiling with raw force. The elder raised his arms to block, conjuring a shield of desperate Qi, but my blade of crimson energy sheared right through. Sparks of red flared where our powers clashed, sending shockwaves rippling across the dusty ground.
He coughed blood as my slash tore into his shoulder, nearly severing it. Wobbling, he lashed out with a frantic retaliation, yet I sidestepped easily. Another strike plunged into his waist, causing him to collapse onto one knee, face white with pain.
The elder, forced to his knees, let out a guttural snarl. His eyes flashed, and a sudden cascade of crimson Qi radiated from his uninjured hand. In an instant, a pulsing blood orb coalesced in his palm, swirling with dark flecks of malevolence. He flung it at me with surprising vigor, the sphere arcing through the air and expanding to the size of a man's torso before crashing down. I barely had time to brace.
I leapt aside, letting the orb smash into the rocky ground where I'd stood a blink before. Red splatter and wicked Qi clung to the earth, sizzling dangerously. He grimaced, pulling himself upright while his shoulder bled profusely. It was clear he was on the ropes, but the rage in his gaze refused to subside.
A hush, then he sprang up, blood Qi swirling around both arms now. "Damn you!" he hissed, voice ragged. "I'll tear you apart!" He streaked forward, unleashing a barrage of quick slashes through the air that each manifested as crimson blades—they streaked toward me, howling with evil intent. My newly doubled agility helped me weave between them, though the flaring pain in my chest from my wound throbbed sharply.
Still, the Bloodfire Ascension bolstered me. Flames of scarlet Qi licked around my limbs. With a pulse of Qi, I kicked off the ground, delivering a fierce upward strike to his unprotected flank. He gagged at the impact, his ribs cracking audibly as I hammered him. The blow catapulted him a dozen meters upward, spinning helplessly in the sky above the battlefield.
Sensing my chance, I conjured a swift Qi projectile and hurled it. As expected, his eyes widened; the old man twisted midair, dodging to the side with a burst of frantic flight. He thought he'd outmaneuvered me. But the real trap was already set.
Cloaking my speed behind the swirling blood aura, I shot upward in a sudden leap. Ten meters—enough distance to meet him in the air. Hurtling up behind him, I predicted precisely where he'd move, the Bloodfire Ascension lending me explosive agility. His eyes flicked in shock at my approach, but he was too late.
"Crimson Reaver—Blood Reaping Strike!" I unleashed the technique, letting a brutal surge of Qi channel into my arm. My hand, wreathed in a swirling red aura, slammed into his back with enough force to puncture flesh and even some of his vertebrae. Blood sprayed out in all directions, and a choked, wet scream tore from his lips. The shock of my blow carved a ragged hole clean through his torso.
Wasting no time, I activated the absorbing aspect of the Crimson Reaver Method, devouring the blood essence that spilled from him. My dantian roared with new energy; each pulse of life force absorbed from this Foundation Establishment elder gave me a rush of strength.
87%...
89%...
91%...
92%...
But before I could finish, he twisted in a final act of desperation, focusing his remaining Qi into a single, point-blank strike. A scarlet wave erupted from his left hand and slammed into my midsection. The impact flung me downward, the ground rushing up too fast to brace. I crashed with a sickening crunch, pain lancing through my body. Several bones snapped, and I gasped, spitting out a mouthful of hot blood.
No advantage gleaned from the Crimson Sacrifice Method would help here—this injury wasn't self-inflicted. I tasted iron, blinking dazedly at the swirling sky overhead. Gritting my teeth, I forced my battered legs to respond. The scorching aura around me still lingered, but I felt it waning, the backlash gnawing at my body as my wound continued to bleed.
With a ragged exhalation, I shoved myself onto one knee, ignoring the spasms in my ribs. Blood dripped from my lips, and for a moment, the world spun. Still, I refused to collapse. Through blurred vision, I made out the elder's form above—his torso mangled, Qi flickering feebly, but still alive. For now.
Dragging in another breath, I forced my battered body upward, bracing for whatever came next. My chest stung as if aflame, but the hunger of the Crimson Reaver pushed me on.
The elder's gaze landed on me, a triumphant sneer twisting his features as he noticed the crimson blaze dimming around my body. "Hah... You fool," he coughed, eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. "Every great technique exacts a price, and now that your borrowed power dwindles, you'll die a dog's death." A barking laugh left him—hoarse and ragged, cut short by the pain of his own injuries.
He spat a curse under his breath, but his words only steeled my resolve. I straightened, my breath unsteady, yet I kept my eyes locked on him. In one swift motion, I broke my own left shoulder with a sharp snap. Agony shot through my arm, but that same instant, the waning aura around me flared anew, crimson tendrils swirling and intensifying beyond their earlier peak. The elder's grin faltered.
"You said what?" I asked, my tone cold and my gaze unblinking. The blood-soaked Qi raged around me, fueled by my deliberate injury.
"Y-you—" His voice broke, raw hatred mingling with confusion and horror. He staggered, his expression twisted by fury, but his once-fearsome aura was now weak and tattered.
I lunged forward, letting my newly magnified strength guide each attack. He tried to defend, but battered as he was, he managed only a feeble show of resistance. One vicious punch slammed him into a half-collapsed wall, and a follow-up kick sent him tumbling through the air like a ragdoll. Another blow drove him face-first into the hard earth. Finally, with a desperate attempt to break his fall through Qi flight, he failed, smashing shoulder-first into a massive boulder. Stone splintered under the impact, and he slumped, chest heaving, arms trembling as he tried to push himself upright.
His body gave out. His spine, I sensed through my Qi, was severed beyond repair. Strangled whimpers escaped him, eyes wide with panic as he realized he could no longer feel his limbs. I felt the last sparks of my heightened power begin to fade. My aura's scarlet glow flickered, retreating into me as I deactivated the Crimson Sacrifice Method. My skin and hair, which had taken on that eerie red hue, now faded back to normal, each breath laden with exhaustion and lingering pain from the injuries I'd inflicted upon myself.
I stood there amid the dust and debris, panting. Blood still dripped down my chest; that was the nature of the Crimson Sage's inheritance, a savage pact of pain and power.
I stepped toward him, my breathing ragged but unwavering, each footfall echoing in the hush of the battlefield's fringes. Terror surged in his eyes as he realized I had no intention of sparing him. He tried to speak, but a raw, grating sound was all that emerged at first. Finally, in a trembling rasp, he spat, "You... monstrous... fanatic. A mere child... how can you have this power? How can you be so ruthless...?"
His voice cracked under the weight of despair and fury. I met his gaze impassively, not bothering to respond. My hand, still slick with crimson from the wound in my chest, lifted once more. I focused inward, calling on the technique from the Crimson Reaver Method, the Blood Reaping Strike. He saw the shift in my aura, the swirl of menacing red light converging around my palm, and fear flared in his face.
"No... no, please—" he gasped. He was at my mercy, and ironically, the same man who had tried to end my life only days ago now pleaded for his own. His bravado collapsed, replaced by begging and pleading. But I felt no pity. I took no pleasure in his pain. This was simply the path I had chosen.
I struck. My palm slammed against his torn chest, the blow rattling his broken frame. The Blood Reaping Strike carved through layers of muscle and bone, allowing me to absorb his blood essence directly. A rush of vital energy jolted into my dantian—heady, intense, and brimming with power. My Qi soared in a dizzying surge.
93%...
95%...
98%...
99%...
Then, with a final shudder, he went limp, his eyes losing their light as his remaining blood essence flowed into me and was refined into blood Qi.
100%...
Boom
A resonant sound echoed from deep within my dantian, reverberating throughout my meridians. My entire body jerked, and for an instant, the world seemed to contract around that single thrum of power. The sensation exploded, and I felt the invisible barrier snapping apart.
I had broken through to the seventh stage of Qi Condensation. I staggered a step, suppressing a flood of new Qi that rushed through my meridians, almost overwhelming my senses. It was as though my body had suddenly found a hidden reservoir of energy and was determined to test its limits.
I exhaled softly, releasing his corpse to slump against the cracked earth. Blood dripped from my wounds and spattered my legs, and I stood over him for a moment.
Steadying myself, I pressed a hand to my abdomen, feeling the hum of my newly expanded cultivation. That final intake of essence from the dying elder had driven me past the threshold. My wound still throbbed, and blood stained my clothes, yet there was an electric sense of euphoria underlining the pain. Every fiber of me now burned with a potency that surpassed my former self.
The elder's corpse lay sprawled and motionless before me, the hollowed shell of a man whose Qi now resided in my meridians. The battlefield around us still raged—blood and chaos echoing through the air—but in this small pocket of devastation, for a moment, it was just me, breathing hard after achieving another breakthrough.
That warm rush cooled abruptly when I felt two unmistakably powerful auras descend behind me.
Turning, I found Elder Sun Min and Elder Zhou Zhiqiu standing close by, gazes flicking between my blood-spattered figure and the crumpled remains of the Foundation Establishment elder at my feet. An awkward silence clung to the air.
"..."
"..."
"Greetings, Elder Sun Min, Elder Zhou Zhiqiu," I managed, offering a slight bow with my battered appearance.
"..."
"..."