Wei Liang moved through Silver Creek like a ghost of death. His spear dripped with the blood of the gate guards. The town slept peacefully around him. They had no idea their doom walked among them.
He started with the outer houses. Families of farmers and craftsmen who worked hard for simple lives. Wei Liang kicked in their doors and slaughtered them in their beds. Parents, children, grandparents. His spear showed no mercy to any.
The first house held a blacksmith and his wife. Wei Liang's spear pierced both their hearts in a single thrust. Their blood soaked into the straw mattress beneath them.
The second house contained a family of five. Two parents and three young children. Wei Liang killed them all before they could even scream. Their blood splattered across the wooden walls.
House after house fell to his rampage. Wei Liang moved with supernatural speed and silence. His enhanced senses let him see perfectly in the darkness. He knew exactly where each person slept.
By midnight, he had killed forty-seven people. Their blood filled the streets like crimson rivers. But he needed fifty-three more deaths before dawn. The Iron Blood Manual's third stage demanded exactly one hundred lives in a single night.
Wei Liang approached the town center. Larger houses stood here. The homes of merchants and officials. These people had more guards and better locks. But such things meant nothing to him now.
The mayor's mansion sat on a small hill. Stone walls surrounded a three-story building. Armed guards patrolled the grounds. Wei Liang counted eight soldiers and twice as many servants inside.
Perfect.
He scaled the stone wall in complete silence. His enhanced strength let him climb like a spider. The first guard died with a spear through his skull before he could raise an alarm.
Wei Liang moved through the compound methodically. Each guard fell to precise strikes. His spear found the gaps in their armor with deadly accuracy. Soon the courtyard was littered with corpses.
Inside the mansion, panic had begun. Servants screamed and ran through the halls. Wei Liang hunted them down one by one. His spear pierced backs as they fled. It opened throats as they cowered in corners.
The mayor himself tried to fight back. He grabbed an ornate sword from his wall display. But the man was fat and slow from years of easy living. Wei Liang's spear gutted him like a pig.
The mayor's family huddled in the upper room. His wife clutched their two young daughters. All three women wept and begged for mercy.
"Please," the wife sobbed. "Take whatever you want. Gold, jewels, anything. Just spare my children."
Wei Liang looked at the cowering family. For just a moment, his red eyes flickered. Some tiny part of his original humanity stirred deep inside.
Then it died forever.
His spear flashed three times. Mother and daughters fell together in a pool of spreading blood. Wei Liang stepped over their bodies without a second glance.
Seventy-three deaths so far. Twenty-seven more to go.
Wei Liang left the mansion and headed for the temple district. Buddhist monks lived there in peaceful meditation. They spent their days helping the poor and sick. They harmed no living creature.
That made killing them even more satisfying.
The temple gates stood open in welcome. Wei Liang walked through into the main courtyard. Stone statues of Buddha watched over gardens of blooming flowers. Everything spoke of peace and harmony.
He would paint it all red.
The first monk he met was sweeping the courtyard. An old man with a gentle smile and kind eyes. He looked up as Wei Liang approached.
"Welcome, brother," the monk said. "Are you seeking shelter for the night?"
Wei Liang's spear answered for him. The iron point emerged from the monk's back in a spray of blood. The old man looked down in shock at the weapon protruding from his chest.
"Why?" he whispered.
"Because I can," Wei Liang replied.
He yanked the spear free. The monk collapsed onto the stone path. His blood mixed with the fallen flower petals around him.
More monks came running at the sound of the disturbance. They found their brother lying dead and Wei Liang standing over the body. His spear gleamed wet in the moonlight.
"Demon!" one monk shouted. "You have brought evil into this sacred place!"
"I am evil," Wei Liang agreed. Then he attacked.
The monks had no weapons. Their religion forbade violence of any kind. They could only run or try to hide. Wei Liang hunted them through the temple halls like rabbits.
His spear stabbed through paper screens. It pierced wooden doors. Monks died praying at altars. They died meditating in cells. They died begging their gods for salvation that never came.
Twenty-six monks lived in the temple. Wei Liang killed them all. Their blood pooled on the polished wooden floors. It stained the white walls and sacred scrolls.
Ninety-nine deaths total. He needed just one more.
Wei Liang found the last monk hiding in the bell tower. A young novice barely sixteen years old. The boy trembled as Wei Liang climbed the wooden stairs.
"Please," the novice whispered. "I have done nothing wrong. I only wanted to serve Buddha and help people."
"Your mistake," Wei Liang said. "Good people die easy."
His spear pierced the boy's heart. The hundredth death was complete.
Immediately, Wei Liang felt the change begin. The Iron Blood Manual's third stage activated. Dark energy flooded through his body. His qi pathways burned like molten metal.
But something else happened too. The air around him began to shimmer and twist. Reality itself seemed to bend and warp. Wei Liang felt a pulling sensation, as if invisible hands were dragging him somewhere else.
The world around him faded away like smoke. Silver Creek vanished. The temple dissolved into nothingness. Wei Liang found himself floating in a void of swirling colors and strange lights.
Then he understood. The Iron Blood Manual had spoken of this. When a cultivator reached certain levels of power, they could break through to higher realms. This world was just one of countless lower worlds. Above it lay ten thousand middle worlds. Above those, ten upper worlds. And at the very top, the realm where gods themselves dwelt.
The slaughter of one hundred innocents had torn open a rift between worlds. Wei Liang's enhanced soul was being pulled upward to a higher realm. A place where stronger enemies waited. Where greater power could be claimed.
The void spun faster around him. Wei Liang gripped his spear tight as reality reformed. He was about to enter a new world. A place where his reign of terror could truly begin.
The swirling colors solidified into solid ground. Wei Liang landed hard on red sand beneath twin purple suns. Strange creatures flew overhead on leathery wings. In the distance, a city of black stone rose against the alien sky.
He had ascended from the lower world. Now he stood in one of the middle realms. Here, even the weakest cultivator could destroy mountains. The strong could split seas and shatter moons.
Wei Liang smiled. His teeth gleamed white against his pale lips. More power meant more enemies to kill. More blood to steal. More souls to crush beneath his feet.
He began walking toward the black city. His spear thirsted for new victims.