The murmurs of the farmers faded little by little, leaving Lin Tianhan standing alone in the field, his body trembling from the aftershock of the crimson pulse. A cold wind toyed with the new strands of hair that had taken that red hue—the color of blood. Men shuffled back; some hid their fear behind a heavy silence. No one knew what this transformation truly meant, yet all felt the same truth without exception: this boy was no longer wholly human.
His father approached slowly, clutching his axe as if the beast might return at any moment. But the truth was stranger — the true monster now stood before him.
"Tianhan… are you all right?" the father asked.
The young man lifted his head; his tired eyes fought to contain the inner fire. He answered in a soft voice, "I… I'm not sure." The father moved closer, then stopped. Tianhan's eyes glowed at the rim with a crimson flare, then sank back to black. That flicker alone made the elder's heart lurch. At last his mother dashed forward and embraced him despite everything. She trembled, but she would not let him go.
"We'll go back inside… you'll sleep a little. This will pass, won't it? It will… won't it?" she pleaded.
Tianhan knew, without answering, that what had begun that night would not pass.
At home, his family burned medicinal herbs and applied warm towels to his chest; they fussed and whispered while he sat in absolute silence. Yet none of their ministrations reached him—his focus was fixed on his heart, where the red drop moved slowly. It had been a mere speck when it melted into him; now it was a small orb of fire. Each beat shook his frame. Each beat burned his bones. Worse still, it was growing.
Why me? he asked himself again and again. He had never yearned for power. He had not dreamed of being a cultivator or of the high roads to cities and spirit-mountains. He wanted a simple life—fields, a small family, a promise that his parents would not endure hardship. But that drop had changed everything.
Is this… a curse? Or a power? He did not know.
When his pain subsided somewhat, he stepped out into the night. Beneath the dark sky and the cold stars, a figure waited at the threshold—someone Tianhan had not expected: Lu Bai, the magistrate's son. Tall, muscled, ever-proud with the iron sword at his hip. Lu Bai eyed Tianhan's crimson hair with a sly leer.
"Heard you killed a monster," he said.
"Good… for the weak farmers," Tianhan replied, closing his eyes.
Lu Bai advanced, tone sharp. "That day in the forest, when the red light fell… you were the only one who ran toward it, weren't you?"
Tianhan opened his eyes. "And what of it?"
A cold smile. "It means you saw something… something that concerns me." His voice dropped to a quiet menace. "I'm the only one in this village who will be allowed to enter the sect's trial next month. I don't want any… surprises." He sneered, contemptuous: "Especially not from someone whose hair is turning to blood."
Fear trembled behind Lu Bai's arrogance—fear he masked with pride. "Keep your distance, Lin Tianhan… or I'll have my father drive you and your family out."
Tianhan said nothing. He did not move. Silence alone answered him. Humiliated, Lu Bai took a step back, muttered, "We'll see how long this… curse lasts," and left.
Tianhan remained, staring at the ground. The red drops inside him had heard every word. They began to boil.
At midnight he awoke suddenly—not from pain but from a strange hunger, a spiritual craving not for food but for force. He left the house again and walked to the spot where he had slain the monster that morning. The corpse still lay there beneath the gleaming stars, beside the dried pool of blood. He knelt and touched the dried stains. At the moment his hand met the earth, his body convulsed: the drop in his heart moved as if drinking the leftover energy of the beast.
Something climbed from his feet to his chest, pressing on his bones with a terrible insistence. Then—clicking sounds, the faint snaps of change—less a painful fracture than the beginning of construction. It was the forging of flesh and sinew, the first stage of bone-refinement, beginning without his will.
A voice—no, not a voice but a cavernous echo—whispered in his head: The blood… needs flesh. The power… needs bone. You… are the vessel.
Tianhan collapsed to his knees, breath ragged, the air weighing heavy. Hands trembling, back bowed, faint red veins crawling from his chest up to his neck.
"Stop…!" he croaked.
It did not stop. The crimson pulse struck again and his body continued to change. Then a small burst of energy rippled from him; the grass trembled; the wind stilled; even the night seemed to pause. After a few minutes, Tianhan opened his eyes slowly. They were fully black now—no crimson glow, no flicker—only an uncanny calm, as if the surface of a dark lake had smoothed over.
His fingers moved. He felt new strength: muscles more pliant, skin hardened, a heart steadier than before. He had reached the first rung of bone-refinement—the skin-hardening stage—without a master, without a cultivation technique, without medicine, without training. A single drop… non-human blood.
He looked at his hands and said with a voice like a blade, "If you fear me now… wait a little longer." He spoke not only to the villagers but to destiny itself, to the monsters, to Lu Bai, to the whole continent.
By morning the news had spread. Everyone spoke of Tianhan's crimson hair, of the beast he had slain, of the glow in his eyes. Some whispered, "This is not natural." Others intoned, "It may bring calamity." A few suggested exile: "He should be driven from the village." And amid the murmurs, Lu Bai strode into the square and declared loudly, "We must protect the village from anyone… carrying the blood-curse!"
All eyes turned to Tianhan.
Before Lu Bai could finish, a whistle cut the air, and then—BOOM!! The earth trembled. People screamed, children fell, dust rose. Villagers raced toward the western gate, where the sight froze blood in their veins: waves of small monsters—five, ten, twenty first-level creatures—surged forward, and behind them lumbered a massive second-level beast, its eyes smoldering like dark fire. The village elder, trembling, said, "Nothing like this has happened in ten years…!"
This was no coincidence. This was a message.
All faces turned again to Tianhan. He did not move. He watched the beasts as if something within him answered their presence. Then—a pulse. A new beat. His blood boiled; heat rose in his heart. Strange power swelled. The blood… calls for blood.
Tianhan lifted his head slowly; the crimson reflection returned to his pupils. He spoke in a low voice: "If you seek someone to stand against the monsters…"
He stepped forward one step. "I am here."
And in that instant the crimson-blood tale took its first true stride toward legend.