Lin Yu appears out of the shadow and stares at the building ahead.
A warehouse, the headquarters of his gang.
From inside comes the clash of fists and the ragged cries of struggle.
He melts back into the dark, slipping through shadow, and emerges within the warehouse.
The sight arrests him.
Tom, fists bloodied, is locked in combat with two men whose bodies blaze with a faint crimson glow.
Around them, the floor is littered with corpses of his gang members, the air thick with the scent of iron.
Yet not all are dead.
Some, wounded but standing, lend Tom their strength, striking and grappling with desperation.
Lin Yu's eyes narrow.
The crimson warriors are only a single step above Tom, higher on the extraordinary staircase—but no further.
Their strength, though sharper, is still not beyond the reach of ordinary flesh.
And Tom, with his first wisp of shadow energy burning within him, meets them blow for blow.
Lin Yu lifts his hand, and the shadows obey.
Like ropes, they shoot forward, coil around the crimson warriors' legs, and yank them violently into the wall with a resounding crash.
Relief breaks across the battered faces of his men.
"Boss!" Tom and the survivors shout in unison.
Lin Yu nods once, firm, never taking his eyes from the enemy.
"Stand behind me."
At his command, the wounded scramble, forming a ragged line at his back.
The crimson warriors stir, pushing themselves up from the ground with an animalistic grace, bloodshot eyes fixed on him.
Lin Yu's gaze narrows as he asks without turning, "What's going on?"
Tom wipes the blood from his lips, chest heaving.
"We don't know," he says, voice hoarse. "They barged in and started killing. If I hadn't stepped into the extraordinary mid-fight, we'd already be corpses."
The warriors bellow, low guttural sounds that twist into feral growls.
Then, like maddened bulls, they charge again.
Lin Yu raises his palm, shadows erupting from every corner of the warehouse, writhing like snakes.
In an instant, they bind the men's arms and legs, hoist them into the air, and slam them down.
They thrash and struggle, veins glowing crimson as though molten blood ran through them.
But Lin Yu is calm.
Without his original strength, he still matches their level, both feet planted in this extraordinary realm.
Yet where they stand at the second and third steps of the staircase, he commands the tenth, with one foot already on the threshold of the next realm.
He advances, his men trailing close, their eyes wide with awe.
"Who are you two?" Lin Yu asks, voice cold.
The only answer is a guttural growl, animal fangs glinting in the warehouse's dim light.
Tom mutters, wary, "Boss, they're not men anymore… they're like beasts."
Lin Yu studies them, unblinking, watching the crimson glow surge and fade as they strain against the shadows that bind them.
He recalls a passage buried in his memory—an account of ordinary men twisted into monsters by a higher extraordinary who walked the path of blood.
The crimson shine.
The red eyes.
The fangs.
They match the description perfectly.
Blood slaves.
His eyes sharpen, and with a flick of his hand, he frees three ropes from each warrior.
The shadows fling them against the wall, bones cracking on impact.
Only one rope remains tethered to each body, stretched taut.
He releases it, and the moment their limbs are free, they lunge again.
A shadow whip lashes out and hurls them back into the wall.
They rise.
They charge.
They fall again.
Lin Yu repeats the rhythm, unhurried, whip cracking with cold precision until their frenzy dulls.
Their bloodlust wanes, replaced by fear.
At last, instead of rushing forward, they stumble toward the warehouse doors, desperate to flee.
Lin Yu lets them go.
His gaze sweeps the blood-soaked floor, his gang's corpses lying still among the survivors.
"Call the police," he says to Tom, voice quiet, hard.
"When they ask questions, give them my family name. Tell them to summon the black guards."
Before Tom can answer, Lin Yu steps into the shadow, dissolving into the darkness.
He emerges on the outskirts of the city, unseen, and trails the two broken blood slaves.
They stagger to a manor, dragging their shattered bones.
Inside, the tablet pulses faintly, its surface alive with a spectral glow.
From it emerges a phantom woman, seated with unearthly poise.
Her features are sharp and ageless, hair black as midnight, lips crimson, eyes like burning garnets.
Isolde's gaze falls on the two battered slaves, their bodies bent and ruined, before shifting to the third, who kneels, offering up a freshly formed blood crystal.
Her memory stirs.
She had commanded them to kill, to bring back captives to be transformed.
Instead, they return broken and empty-handed.
Her lips curl slightly.
So, the gang harbours an extraordinary.
And that means her senses, dulled and chained within this seal, cannot yet reach beyond the tablet.
She lifts her head, voice low, silken.
"Come out."
From the shadows at the edge of the room, a young man steps forth.
Lin Yu.
Isolde's crimson eyes narrow.
If she were unsealed, this boy would be an insect beneath her heel.
But now, bound by the tablet, she must play another game.
"I need to fool the young man," she thinks, her smile curving with practised grace.
Isolde's crimson gaze lingers on Lin Yu, her voice smooth as velvet, dripping with promise.
"You saw them fight," she says, lifting her pale hand toward the two trembling slaves. "Immortal bodies that do not tire, that heal from wounds no mortal should survive. I can give you the same."
Lin Yu's expression does not flicker. His voice is calm, cutting.
"You call this immortality? Hollow men, drained of themselves, turned into beasts who obey only a master's leash. Don't take me for a fool."
Isolde's smile freezes, then softens again, shifting shape like a mask.
"I am not speaking of these husks," she whispers, leaning forward, her phantom form rippling with the tablet's crimson light. "They are blood slaves, yes—but I offer something higher. A true blood race. I am not of their kind. I am their master."
Her eyes burn, ancient pride bleeding through her words.
"I was once among the higher extraordinary of the Way of Blood. My body unbound by time, unbroken by blade. Eternal life, eternal strength. That, boy, is what I offer. Join me, and you will rise beyond mortality."
Lin Yu stares, thoughts sharp and fast.
If her words hold truth, then she carries knowledge buried by time. Knowledge of the world, of the extraordinary paths, of the laws themselves.
If he could capture her—seal her power, force her spirit bare—he could read her memories. He could learn everything.
Decision flashes through him like lightning.
His shadows surge.
He does not strike at her directly, but at the broken blood slaves.
"Then let's test your gift," Lin Yu says, voice low, eyes never leaving hers.
Isolde's hand curves, her smile tightening.
"Then taste their strength."
Crimson light pours from her palm, threads of blood weaving into the three men. Their broken bones snap back into place, their eyes burn brighter, and their auras swell.
The tablet hums with power, yet its chains remain, and her strength cannot rise beyond the barrier.
Eight steps.
Nothing more.
The three blood slaves roar, fangs glistening, power tearing through the air as they rush him.
Shadows coil like serpents around Lin Yu, and his eyes narrow.
He does not reach for his original strength. He doesn't need it.
The first slave lunges—Lin Yu's shadows spear through its chest and rip its body apart from the inside, blood mist spraying across the walls.
The second swings, faster, stronger—Lin Yu's hand flicks, and a shadow whip slices its head from its shoulders, the body collapsing like a sack of meat.
The third shrieks and leaps, both arms glowing crimson—Lin Yu steps forward, his shadows wrapping around its body, tearing it limb from limb in a spray of gore.
The manor trembles under the violence, and silence follows.
Isolde's eyes widen, her lips parting, fury and unwillingness flashing across her face.
No.
Not again.
Not sealed again.
Her hands rise, fingers weaving, and the tablet beneath her flares. Crimson light erupts, runes spinning across its surface, alive with ancient power.
The tablet slams forward like a falling star, rushing straight for Lin Yu.
Edmund and Richard stare at Tom and ask, "Where is Mr. Lin Yu?"
Tom, cradling his injured arm, says, "I don't know, boss followed the two monsters that attacked us."
At that moment, they sense the fluctuation of extraordinary power, and from the shadow, Lin Yu appears, his face pale.
"I have dealt with the culprit; they won't cause trouble again," Lin Yu says.
"Sir, the tablet," Edmund says.
Lin Yu glances at him, and Edmund's body screams of danger, forcing him to subconsciously take a step back.
"The tablet is my trophy," Lin Yu says.
"But Chief Atlas requested the tablet," Richard says.
"Tell him to come ask for himself," Lin Yu replies.
He then looks at Tom and says, "Quickly build the Shadow Flower Serpent farm."
Tom knows he is alive only because he became extraordinary, and he became so quickly because of the body refining liquid.
For that, the venom of the Shadow Flower Serpent is the main ingredient.
Tom nods and says, "I will build it as soon as I can."
Lin Yu nods, and the shadow surges, swallowing his body whole.