The taste of blood still lingered on Han Chen's tongue as he swallowed the last piece of the heart.
Suddenly, the black spiritual energy burst from his body, swirling like smoke before sinking back into his flesh.
The air trembled as the door rattled on its hinges.
Han Chen's eyes glowed faintly. His breath deepened, steady and powerful, while his dantian pulsed with new energy.
He could feel it—his qi had ascended, pressing into the next layer. Two-star Qi Condensation.
He drew in a slow breath, voice low and quiet.
"So this is the Life Swallowing Scripture..."
He closed his eyes, the sensation of power pulsing through him like a second heartbeat." At Qi Condensation, the life force of mortals is enough... but when I reach Foundation Establishment, this scripture will demand more. The life of a cultivator… and double the essence each time I break through."
Han Chen opened his eyes again, now calm but distant. His gaze shifted toward the corpse lying in the corner.
The woman's lifeless body was half-hidden in shadow, her blood soaking into the rough wooden planks beneath her.
He stood slowly, the movement silent except for the faint creak of the floorboards. "Your offering won't be wasted," he said under his breath.
At his command, the mark on his forehead shimmered. A thin line split open, revealing a vertical eye—black sclera, purple pupil—glistening with eerie light. CRACK!
The air distorted in front of him, and a dark portal spiraled open, its edges trembling like a reflection disturbed by a stone's ripple.
The purple light from his third eye flickered once. Han Chen lifted his hand, and the corpse rose, swaying midair before sliding into the portal without a trace. The darkness consumed it whole, leaving only silence.
He exhaled softly and closed the eye. The skin on his forehead sealed again as though nothing had ever been there.
The room was still. Black energy coiled faintly around him before fading into nothingness.
"Two stars," Han Chen murmured as a thought ran through his mind. "There are at least twenty to twenty-five mortals in the inn. Should I absorb their life force and break out of the city?"
Han Chen sat in silence after sealing the portal, the faint scent of iron still lingering in the air. His breathing slowed until even the wind outside seemed louder than his heartbeat.
He leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed." This inn has two floors… around eighteen rooms. That makes at least twenty, maybe twenty-five people, he thought, his gaze drifting to the flickering lantern by the doorway. Scripture demands balance. One mortal for two stars… two for three… and it will keep doubling all the way to seven or eight-star Qi Condensation.
As long as I stay in the mortal realm, their life force will be enough."
The wooden floor creaked softly as he rose. The night outside was silent—only the faint chirp of crickets filled the still air.
Han Chen moved through the narrow hall with measured steps, his qi dampened to a whisper. Shadows stretched long across the corridor, and the dim light from the moon traced a pale line along his robe.
He stopped before a door. The room beyond was quiet, the breathing inside steady and deep.
Han Chen placed his fingers on the wooden handle, slowly pushing the door open. It gave a soft creak, and he paused, waiting. No reaction.
A single man lay asleep on the bed, turned to one side, unaware. Han Chen stood beside him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he raised his hand, qi gathering faintly around his forearm.
The air shimmered, and with one precise motion—CRACK—he twisted the man's neck.
The sound was muted, final. The man never even woke.
He whispered, "Three stars… almost within reach."
The sound of steady rain began to patter on the roof. The air grew heavier, damp, and cold.
Without hesitation, Han Chen extended his hand again and pressed it against the man's chest. His qi-enforced fingers sank in effortlessly, flesh parting like wet paper. CRACK. His hand closed around the heart, and with a quick squeeze, it shattered.
Thick black energy poured from the crushed organ, flooding into his palm and racing through his body like a swarm of snakes.
His breath caught as power surged to life within him. The glow in his dantian pulsed once, then steadied—stronger, denser.
He pulled his hand back, letting the corpse slump lifelessly to the side.
His expression did not change; even the faint tremor of moral hesitation had already burned away.
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance. The world slept as Han Chen stood in silence, the room heavy with the scent of blood and damp wood. The scripture demands balance… death for progress, he reminded himself. Until the mortal essence can no longer satisfy it.
He wiped his hand on the blanket, leaving dark smears behind, then turned toward the hallway. "One more," he murmured, stepping into the shadows once more. The floor creaked softly, swallowed by the sound of rainfall.
Han Chen moved swiftly through the inn, his presence hidden under the cover of heavy rain. One by one, he entered the rooms—four lives snuffed out in silence. The black mist thickened with each kill, feeding his growing power. His dantian trembled; the edge of the four-star realm was within reach.
He entered the next room, the sixth that night. The faint scent of jasmine and sweat hung in the air.
Under the thin blanket lay a young man and a woman, limbs tangled, fast asleep.
Han Chen approached, his movements silent. He was about to strike when—SNAP!
A hand clamped around his wrist. Eyes opened, sharp and alert. The woman sat up, her eyes glowing faintly blue. The sudden surge of her aura rippled through the air.
"Who are you?" she snapped, pushing the blanket aside. Her qi flared—a cultivator. Fourth-star Qi Condensation.
Han Chen stiffened slightly. A cultivator? Here?
The young man beside her startled awake. In an instant, golden light shot through the room as his energy exploded outward, shaking the wooden walls.
"Who are you! Why are you here!" he shouted, eyes narrowing in fury. His aura was heavier, cutting against Han Chen's like a blade. Fifth-star Qi Condensation.
Han Chen felt the pressure crash against his chest. But fear never came—only a rush of exhilaration. His lips curved into a cold smile. "Heh… both of you," he said, backing away slightly, freeing his arm from the woman's grasp, "die for me."
Black and green spiritual energy ignited around his hands, flickering like a ghostly flame. The two cultivators jumped to their feet.
Rings on their fingers glowed, and clothes burst forth—fabric wrapping around their bodies in a blur of motion.
Han Chen chuckled under his breath, while watching the spatial ring. 'Of course. What was I surprised about? This is the cultivation world—nothing is impossible.'
The woman thrust her palm forward. "Flowing Cloud Palm!"
BOOM!
The room erupted in wind and force. Han Chen was thrown backward, crashing through the table. Splinters dug into his skin, but his grin only widened. He launched himself forward, qi surging. "Devourer Fist!"
The man parried with a golden barrier, its radiant glow clashing against Han Chen's black energy. The impact shattered the bed, the floor breaking apart beneath them.
CRASH!
They burst through the wall, landing hard on the street outside. Midnight rain poured over them, steam rising from the violent bursts of qi.
Han Chen coughed, wiping blood from his mouth. His clothes were torn, his body aching—but his eyes gleamed. He laughed coldly, the sound echoing through the wet street.
"Hahaha… yes," he rasped. "Stronger. Show me more!"
The two cultivators exchanged wary glances. The man said, "MADMAN!"
The woman tightened her grip on her sword. "Doesn't matter. Just finish him."
They lunged simultaneously. The street flared with light and shadow as qi collided again and again.
Each time Han Chen was pushed back, slammed into the mud or the broken wall, his laughter only grew louder. The noise woke half the district. Windows opened. Sleepy faces peered out.
"Another fight at this hour," an old vendor muttered.
"Look, the inn collapsed?" said another.
"That man's smiling while getting beaten—what kind of lunatic is he?" whispered a few younger voices.
"Looks like someone picked a fight with the wrong people."
The rain kept falling, washing over the shattered inn and the battling silhouettes.
Han Chen steadied himself, his breathing ragged. Streams of black energy coiled around him once more. "Let's see," he murmured, eyes burning. "If I can devour you two."
The street trembled again as their auras collided—light and darkness twisting under the storm.
Rain hammered the streets as the clash continued. The woman struck first, her blade wrapped in streams of silver spiritual energy.
Han Chen twisted aside, the edge cutting across his arm and drawing blood. The sting burned, waking something wild within him.
He retaliated instantly, sweeping his arm and releasing a surge of dark energy that cracked the ground beneath them. The young man blocked with a blast of golden force, the collision sending waves through the soaked air.
CLANG! BOOM! CRACK!
Each impact shattered the night's silence. The wooden beams of nearby stalls splintered from the pressure, lanterns bursting one after another. Han Chen staggered back, chest heaving, but his lips curved into that same cold smile.
"You fight well," he rasped, blood running down his chin. "Perfect nourishment."
"Shut your mouth!" the woman roared, spiritual power flaring as she thrust her blade.
Han Chen raised his hand to block, but the man behind her struck in tandem, his palm glowing with golden light. BANG! The strike hit Han Chen square in the chest, hurling him backward through a wooden cart. He landed hard, coughing blood, his body trembling from the force—yet his gaze burned brighter.
Just as he steadied himself, streaks of light sliced across the night sky. Eight figures landed soundlessly on the drenched street, their robes marked with white clouds on blue. The aura surrounding them pressed down like an iron weight—each one at the peak of Qi-Condensation.
The lead cultivator stepped forward, his tone sharp and commanding. "Enough! You dare cause chaos in the Flowing Cloud Sect's territory?"
Han Chen winced, raising his head slightly as the man's pressure intensified.
"If you wish to live," the cultivator continued, "turn yourself in."
The gathered onlookers whispered from every corner of the street.
"That's the Flowing Cloud Sect's elite patrol."
"He's finished for sure."
"Picking a fight with sect members? That's suicide."
"Doesn't matter how strong he looks—one against ten? Dead man walking."
Han Chen looked around. Ten cultivators, their energy locking him in place. He could feel each heartbeat echoing in his bones. Even though Han Chen enjoyed the thrill of battle, he was not stupid.
Too many. Too strong. I've burned half my energy already. He exhaled through his nose. 'Retreating is wiser than dying here.'
He wiped the blood from his mouth and gathered the last reserves of power at his feet.
Greenish-black energy wrapped around his legs, coiling like smoke.
[Heaven's Footwork was another technique stored in the library, which Han Chen had learned.]
"Heaven's Footwork,"—Han Chen.
SHHH!
With a single step, Han Chen vanished. The ground split open under the force as he darted into the rain, a shadow flickering between rooftops and alleys.
"Stop him!" one of the guards roared.
"Running only shortens your life!" another shouted.
"COURTING DEATH!!!" another shouted.
Rain exploded around him as pursuit began, blinding streaks of light chasing through the soaked streets. Han Chen ducked and wove through corners, his spiritual energy leaving faint traces in the air. Each beat of his heart carried him closer to the city gates.
-
Back near the ruined inn, one of the guards approached the young couple now dressed and steadying themselves.
"Juniors," he asked, brows furrowed, "What happened? Why were you two clashing with a three-star brat?"
The man clasped his hands respectfully. "Senior, he ambushed us in our sleep. We fought only to defend ourselves."
The woman nodded firmly. "He had already killed people inside the inn. We stopped him."
The guard's face darkened. "You did well. The Sect will handle this from here. No one kills on Flowing Cloud land and escapes justice."
Thunder rolled in the distance. The rain began to fade, but the tension in the air lingered like smoke.
-----TO BE CONTINUED-----