Rain turned the city into chrome and glass, a blur of reflected headlights and restless neon. People hurried under umbrellas, chasing deadlines and dreams that would never belong to them. In the middle of this frantic world, one man walked as if he were carved from black ice.
Oblak.
No last name. No history you could track. No identity you could own.
If you saw him on the street, you'd forget him a minute later. A plain black coat. Gloves. Empty eyes.
He liked it that way.
The contract tonight was simple: a corrupt CEO who had double-crossed the wrong people. Oblak didn't care about the politics. He never did. People hired him to remove problems. And Oblak removed them with quiet precision.
He stood across from the glass skyscraper, listening to the rain whisper against the pavement.
Three minutes until security rotates. Eight guards. Two too confident, one too tired, one too new. Cameras cover the western exit poorly. Penthouse windows are pressure-sensitive, but the balcony door is not.
He memorized every detail.
A taxi splashed by. Oblak stepped off the curb, crossed the street, and vanished into the building's shadow.
Inside, he was a ghost. Elevator. Hallway. Stairwell. The world shrank into angles, lines, timing. Not emotion. Never emotion.
By the time the CEO realized the balcony door had opened, Oblak was already behind him.
No words.
A gloved hand.
A quiet end.
It was always like this.
He dragged the body to the glass, letting the city reflect the lifeless face. People thought death brought meaning. That at the last second, truth revealed itself.
Oblak knew better.
Death was just silence.
He wiped his gloves, turned—
—and froze.
There was a red dot on his chest.
Then another.
Then five.
He sighed.
"Sloppy," he whispered to himself.
The balcony exploded with light. Bullets shattered the night. Glass rained like glittering snow. Oblak stepped back, calculating exits, angles, escape paths—
There were none.
They had waited for him to finish the job.
He tasted blood.
His last thought was not fear.
It was annoyance.
So this is how it ends.
The world went dark.
And then—
It didn't.
Silence.
Weightlessness.
Then pain.
Not the sharp, burning pain of bullets—but a deep, crushing agony that wrapped his chest and refused to let go.
Air flooded into lungs that weren't his.
He gasped.
The smell of earth. Blood. Smoke. A metallic tang of spiritual energy his old world could never name.
His eyes snapped open.
Above him stretched a sky he had never seen before — purple clouds drifting across twin moons. Jagged mountains pierced the skyline like dragon teeth. And in the distance, a city of black stone and crimson banners rose above a valley.
Oblak lay in mud, body twisted unnaturally.
And around him—
Corpses.
Dozens.
Men in dark robes marked with a silver serpent crest. Their chests were pierced, throats slit, skulls crushed. The ground was a battlefield painted in death.
And in the center of the carnage lay a sword — black metal etched with glowing runes, still humming with killing intent.
Oblak's lips twitched faintly.
"Interesting."
Then the pain returned — a tidal wave that crushed thought. His vision blurred. His new heart faltered.
So even here… I die again?
That was when he heard it.
A voice.
Cold. Mechanical. Echoing directly inside his skull.
[Soul Assimilation Complete.]
[Host Identified: Oblak.]
[Welcome to the Blood-Forged System.]
His fingers clenched.
A system?
He had read about such fantasies in passing — fiction, games, delusions of power.
But now…
Panels of faint blue light appeared before his eyes.
[Current Status: Critical. Body of Former Host: Ren Tian — Deceased cultivator of the First Meridian Stage.]
[Fatal injuries detected.]
[Initiating Emergency Soul Fusion.]
Pain flared again. Oblak gritted his teeth silently. Screaming was pointless. Pain was data. Endurance was survival.
The voice continued, emotionless.
[Soul Strength: Exceptional.]
[Fusion Success Probability: 97.4%]
[Beginning.]
His vision dissolved into fragments. Memories surged through him — not his own.
A poor disciple. Mocked. Betrayed. Ambushed and slaughtered by his own sect brothers after discovering a hidden treasure. Ren Tian's last feelings were despair, betrayal, fear—
Oblak crushed them.
Those emotions were useless.
His soul burned like black fire, devouring the remnants of the previous owner, claiming nerves, bones, flesh.
He inhaled.
The pain faded.
Power — weak but unfamiliar — flowed through his meridians like faint streams of light.
He slowly sat up.
His fingers obeyed.
His eyes focused.
He had a new body.
He was alive again.
And the corpses around him?
They weren't his kills.
Which annoyed him — because he had a feeling the system preferred his work.
As if responding to thought:
[System Overview Unlocked.]
A panel expanded.
Blood-Forged System
Kill → Earn → Ascend
Kill Points: Gained by killing living beings. Amount varies by target strength.
Soul Devour: Steal a portion of the cultivation of those you personally kill.
Store: Spend Kill Points to purchase techniques, pills, weapons, arrays, and more.
Quests: Optional. High reward. High risk.
Ultimate Goal: Ascend to Immortality.
Oblak's expression barely changed.
"So. Kill to grow."
This world… suited him.
He stood shakily, rolling his shoulders. The body was damaged — ribs cracked, internal bleeding, meridians frayed. And yet he still lived.
That meant someone had tried very hard to make sure this Ren Tian could not return.
Unfortunate for them.
Oblak crouched beside one corpse. The man had a blade still clutched in stiff fingers. Cultivation essence lingered faintly — stronger than his current level.
He placed a hand on the corpse.
Nothing happened.
He frowned slightly.
"So I must kill them myself."
He looked at the battlefield again — a chessboard already finished.
Then he heard footsteps.
Multiple.
Fast.
He turned calmly.
Five cultivators burst into the clearing — young men in matching serpent-marked robes. Their auras pressed against the air like storm winds. Two of them stopped in shock at the carnage.
One sneered.
"So the rat still breathes."
Their eyes locked on Oblak.
And Oblak understood — these were the killers.
The leader stepped forward. He had a smug face and the confidence of someone who had always stepped on others to reach higher.
"Ren Tian," he said mockingly. "You should have stayed a useless worm. Hand over the sword and I'll make your death quick."
Oblak said nothing.
His gaze slid past them, measuring strength. Four at the Second Meridian Stage. One at the Third. His current weakened body… First Stage, barely stable.
A disadvantage.
He felt no fear.
He simply began planning.
The leader grew irritated. "Ignoring me now? You didn't talk this much before either. Fine. Break his limbs. Leave him alive. I want him to know his place before he dies."
The cultivators stepped forward.
The system chimed softly.
[Optional Quest Generated.]
Title: Return to the Living
Objective: Kill the ones who killed your host body.
Reward: Bonus Kill Points + Increased Soul Devour Rate for 24 hours.]
Oblak's lips curved—a shadow of a smile.
"How generous."
The first attacker lunged. Spiritual energy flared around his fist. In this world, that power could shatter stone.
Oblak dodged.
Not by instinct — but by calculation. Footing. Balance. Wind angle. Human rhythm.
He wasn't the strongest.
But he had killed more men than these boys had met.
His fist shot out like a striking snake — not powered by cultivation, but by perfect precision. It smashed into a throat.
A sickening crunch.
The cultivator collapsed, clawing at his neck, choking silently on broken windpipe.
The system chimed.
[Target Killed: Second Meridian Stage Cultivator.]
[Kill Points +120]
[Soul Devour Initiated… 18% Cultivation Absorbed.]
Warmth flooded his meridians. His cultivation surged — shaky First Stage solidifying into a sharp, stable power.
The remaining four froze.
"You— you actually—"
The leader snarled. "He's bluffing. Kill him!"
Two charged.
Oblak moved like a shadow.
He grabbed the fallen sword.
The blade pulsed — recognizing blood and will. Black runes awakened.
One attacker swung at him with a spiritual blade — raw energy extending from steel.
Oblak stepped inside the arc.
His blade whispered.
A clean line traced across the man's chest.
No wasted motion. No flourish. Just death.
The system chimed again.
[Kill Points +130]
[Cultivation Absorbed: 19%]
His power deepened — the First Stage now full, his meridians humming.
The third hesitated too long.
Mistake.
Oblak appeared behind him, sword dripping rainwater and blood alike.
[Kill Points +128]
[Cultivation Absorbed: 17%]
The last subordinate dropped his weapon, eyes wide. "Wait— we can talk—"
Oblak slit his throat without a word.
Mercy was a currency he had never believed in.
The leader staggered back, aura flaring wildly.
"You… you're a demon! You were weak—this shouldn't—"
Oblak walked toward him, calm as winter.
The leader tried to run.
Oblak threw the sword.
It pierced the man's back, pinning him to a tree.
He collapsed, coughing blood, eyes filled with rage…and fear.
"Who… what are you…?"
Oblak stepped close, expression emotionless.
"Your mistake," he said quietly, "was assuming the world cared how strong you thought you were."
He twisted the sword.
The man went still.
The system's chime sounded almost pleased.
[Kill Points +200]
[Cultivation Absorbed: 25%]
[Host Breakthrough Imminent.]
Light surged through his veins. His soul fused deeper into this body, strengthening bone and tendon. The air felt sharper. Sound clearer. His spiritual energy spiraled upward—
[Congratulations. Meridian Stage: Second Level Achieved.]
The battlefield fell silent.
Only the wind spoke.
Oblak retrieved the sword and inspected the bodies. Their pouches held spirit stones, low-grade pills, talismans. He took everything.
Waste was a sin.
Another panel appeared.
[Total Kill Points: 578]
He opened the System Store.
Rows of items flickered past — manuals, blades, pills, formation scrolls. Power. Power. More power.
He did not rush.
A tool was only as good as the hand that wielded it.
Eventually he purchased:
Basic Meridian Reinforcement Pill — 200 points
Shadow Step Movement Manual — 300 points
The pill burned like fire down his throat — but his meridians widened, absorbing power more efficiently.
The manual imprinted itself into his soul — movement patterns, rhythm, the language of shadows.
He closed the store.
The sky darkened as clouds drifted across both moons. Somewhere in the distance, a beast howled.
Oblak tightened his grip on the sword.
A new world.
A new body.
A system that rewarded death.
And a path that led only upward — to immortality, to power beyond mortals and gods alike.
He felt no joy. No excitement.
Only purpose.
"I will climb," he murmured to the silent night. "And anything that stands in my way…"
He glanced at the corpses.
"…will be harvested."
The system spoke again, calm and cold as him.
[Ultimate Objective: Become the Strongest in the Universe.]
[Progress: 0.0000001%]
Oblak's eyes gleamed faintly.
He had always loved difficult jobs.