The aftermath of the preliminaries left a strange quiet in its wake. Bu He's name was now on everyone's lips, spoken in hushed, fearful tones. He was no longer just the Mad Alchemist's disciple; he was the Heretic who had withstood the Gauntlet and shattered a Qi sword with his bare hands. His victory did not bring him congratulations; it brought him a promotion.
An impassive tower guardian escorted the trio from the grime and chaos of the Alchemy Division to their new home: the Inner Ring. The transition was like stepping into another world. The air here was cleaner, thick with a palpable Leyna energy that seemed to emanate from the very stones. The architecture was elegant, the courtyards meticulously kept. But the atmosphere was far more dangerous. Here, the stares were not of open contempt, but of cold, calculating appraisal. Every smile seemed to hide a dagger.
Their new quarters were a significant improvement, but they were separate. The tower, it seemed, encouraged isolation among its strongest disciples. As they settled in, Jian Ming produced his notebook, his brow furrowed.
"This place operates on a different set of laws," he began, explaining what he had learned from his observations. "Power here is stratified into what they call 'Blood Tiers.' At the bottom are the Copper Bloods—newly ascended disciples like us, still solidifying their foundation. Above them are the Silver Bloods, those who have successfully refined their core with alchemical pills or advanced techniques. They form the true power structure of the Inner Ring. At the very top are the Golden Bloods, the chosen few who are candidates for the Core Region. They are practically royalty here."
He was right. As they walked through the main courtyard, they could see the clear divide. The Silver and Golden Bloods walked with an air of unshakable confidence, while the Copper Bloods skirted the edges, their eyes downcast, trying not to draw attention.
They didn't have to wait long for that attention to find them. A group of disciples, led by a tall youth with the silver insignia of a Silver Blood embroidered on his robes, blocked their path. The leader's face was a mask of aristocratic disdain.
"So," the leader drawled, his eyes raking over Bu He. "The monster from the preliminaries. I am Bei Jin. Consider me the one who maintains the order of this place. You may have passed a brutish trial, heretic, but you have yet to earn the right to breathe our air."
Bei Jin smirked and gestured to three of his followers, all sturdy Copper Bloods. "Show our new friend the proper way to greet his seniors. A welcoming lesson is in order."
The three Copper Bloods spread out, a coordinated, predatory glint in their eyes. They attacked simultaneously. One launched a fist wreathed in fiery Qi, another a cutting wind blade, the third a binding earth spike from the ground. It was a classic three-pronged elemental assault designed to overwhelm any newcomer.
But Bu He was not a normal newcomer. He didn't even try to dodge. He planted his feet, his body sinking into the ground in a low stance. The attacks struck him. The fire singed his robes, the wind blade left a shallow white line on his arm, and the earth spike shattered against his shin. He absorbed the impacts, a grimace of pain flashing across his face, but it was immediately replaced by the familiar, exhilarating surge of his Dark Ascension. His Blood Core pulsed, turning the assault into fuel.
Before his attackers could register their shock, he moved. He was a blur of motion, a physical storm. He sidestepped the fire-user's next punch, his hand shooting out to grip the boy's wrist. A sharp twist, and a sickening snap echoed in the courtyard. The second disciple's wind blade was met with Bu He's open palm, the force of the slap sending the boy spinning to the ground. The third, the earth-user, froze in terror. Bu He simply walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The disciple collapsed, his legs unable to support him under the sheer weight of Bu He's presence.
The fight was over in less than ten breaths. Bu He stood over the three groaning disciples, not even breathing heavily. The courtyard was silent. Bei Jin's smirk had vanished, replaced by a look of disbelief and cold fury.
"You have made a powerful enemy today, heretic," Bei Jin hissed, before helping his men up and retreating, his message clear.
Later that night, alone in his new, sterile room, the aftermath of the fight hit Bu He. The familiar, gnawing hunger was back, more intense than ever. He had won, but the victory had only stoked the furnace inside him. He pulled a small, pulsating Blood-Heart Crystal from a hidden pouch. He no longer hesitated. He placed it in his mouth and crushed it between his teeth.
A wave of raw, primal Leyna flooded his system. The pain was sharp, but the relief was immediate, a rush of pure energy that soothed the craving. As the energy settled, he felt his senses shift. The sounds of the tower became sharper, the scent of the night air more distinct. But he also felt a coldness seeping into his thoughts, a predatory calm that was slowly replacing his human anxieties. The hunger was sated, for now. But he knew it would return, and each time, it would demand a higher price.
A soft knock came at his door. It was Jian Ming and Ci Ying.
"You've upset the balance," Jian Ming said without preamble, his eyes serious. "Bei Jin and his faction control the resource distribution among the lower-ranked disciples. You've challenged his authority. They won't let this go."
Ci Ying, however, had a fiery glint in her eye. "Good," she said fiercely. "Let them be afraid. That's the only law they understand."
Before they could debate further, a small, rolled-up scroll appeared under the door, pushed by an unseen hand. Bu He unrolled it. It was a summons from Elder Bao, written in his messy, chaotic script.
"The wolves are at the door. Your next lesson begins now. Come to the lab. Immediately."
Bu He looked at his friends, then back at the summons. The trials in the arena were over. The real war for survival in the Inner Ring had just begun.