Jian Ruochen stood alone in the moonlit training clearing, the soft rush of the nearby river blending with the night's quiet hum. The stars above the Whispering Valleys glittered like scattered jewels, but his attention was fixed inward, where the Blood Debt System's translucent screen hovered in his mind's eye. Its blood-red text pulsed faintly, sharp and cold, [Host: Jian Ruochen. Required Hunts: Pending. Optional Hunts: Pending. Blood Points: 0. Debt Fragments: 0]. The shadowy figure's voice had faded, leaving only silence and a strange, warm thrum of energy in his dantian, like a caged beast stirring awake. The air felt heavy, charged, as if the world itself knew something had shifted.
Ruochen's breath came slow and steady, his sharp eyes narrowing as he focused on the screen. He'd waited fifteen years for this, some sign of the power promised in that bone-strewn throne room. Now it was here, and he wasn't about to waste it. His mind, honed by a lifetime of betrayal and calculation, prodded at the system like a swordsman testing an opponent's guard. "Show me what you can do," he muttered, voice low under the starlight. He willed the screen to respond, picturing it as a cultivation manual he could flip through, something he could master.
The screen flickered, and a new tab appeared with a soft chime, [Blood Path Skill Tree]. It materialized like ink spreading through water, forming a branching diagram that glowed faintly red. The tree was sparse, with most nodes dim and locked, their names obscured by swirling mist. But one node at the base shone bright, pulsing with invitation, [Crimson Claw Strike]. Above it, faint lines stretched upward to other skills, their titles just visible, Blood Mirage Step, Red Fang Blade Art, names that sent a shiver down his spine. Those higher nodes were marked with numbers, [50 Blood Points], [100 Blood Points], costs he couldn't meet yet. But the Crimson Claw Strike was different. Its node bore no cost, glowing freely as if gifted to him.
Ruochen's lips twitched into a half-smile. "A free taste, huh?" he said, his tone laced with suspicion. Nothing came without a price, not in his experience. Still, curiosity burned hotter than caution. He focused on the glowing node, and the system responded instantly, flooding his mind with a surge of information. No words, no scroll, just a vivid vision, like stepping into a dream. He saw himself, or a version of himself, standing in a shadowy void. His hands glowed with a faint red aura, fingers curling into a claw-like stance, sharp and predatory. The vision moved, his body flowing through a sequence: a step forward, a twist of the wrist, a slash downward that sent a ripple of crimson energy tearing through the air. It wasn't a punch or a palm strike, not like any technique he'd learned in the Azure Sky Sect or seen in his father's Gentle Stream Clan. This was something else, raw, brutal, like a beast raking its claws through flesh.
The vision looped, showing him again and again, each motion etching itself into his muscles as if burned there. He felt the steps, not just saw them: channel the dark energy in his dantian, let it surge through his arm, release it in a slashing arc. It was precise yet savage, designed to rip and ruin. Ruochen blinked, the vision fading, but the knowledge stayed, sharp and clear. He flexed his fingers, already itching to try it. "Crimson Claw Strike," he whispered, testing the name. It felt alien, nothing like the flowing Crane Kicks or steady Iron Palm techniques of his past life. Those had been elegant, disciplined. This was a predator's move, built to destroy.
He scrolled up the skill tree with a thought, the system responding smoothly to his will. The higher nodes flickered, teasing him with glimpses of power. Blood Mirage Step promised speed that blurred the eye; Red Fang Blade Art hinted at a weapon technique that drank life. But they were locked, their costs looming like distant peaks. He'd need Blood Points, whatever those were, to climb higher. For now, the Crimson Claw Strike was his to wield, a starting point that already felt like a weapon forged in blood.
Ruochen shifted his focus to another tab, curiosity driving him deeper. The screen shifted to [Status], revealing a simple breakdown, [Cultivation: Peak Body Tempering Realm][Blood Points: 0. Debt Fragments: 0]. It was straightforward, almost like the cultivation logs he'd kept in his past life, but there was a weight to it, a sense that the system was alive, watching him. He tested it, willing it to show more, and a new tab appeared: [Hunts]. It was blank, the words [Required Hunts: Pending] and [Optional Hunts: Pending] pulsing faintly, as if waiting for a target to appear. The system's responsiveness was uncanny, like a spirit bound to his thoughts, humming with a low, predatory energy.
He closed his eyes, letting the screen fade, and focused on the sensation that had awakened with the system: Blood Sense. It wasn't like the qi sensing he'd mastered in his past life, where he'd feel the flow of spiritual energy in the air or the pulse of a cultivator's aura. This was sharper, more visceral, like catching the scent of blood on the wind or hearing a heartbeat from miles away. He let it unfold, testing its limits. Faint pulses brushed against his awareness—living things in the village, from the slow rhythm of sleeping neighbors to the quick flicker of a fox darting through the woods beyond the river. It was unsettling, almost too intimate, like peering into the essence of life itself. But the potential was clear. "If I can track like this," he murmured, "those Azure Sky bastards won't hide from me. I'll find them before they even know I'm coming."
He opened his eyes, the clearing unchanged but feeling sharper, as if the system had heightened his senses. The wooden training dummies stood at the edge, scarred from years of his father's lessons, but he ignored them. Their flimsy wood wouldn't test the Crimson Claw Strike's true power. His gaze settled on a sturdy oak tree nearby, its trunk thick and gnarled, roots digging deep into the earth. It was a better target, something solid, something real.
Ruochen stepped toward it, his heart beating faster. The system's vision lingered in his mind, the ghostly image of his hands glowing red. He raised his right hand, fingers curling as the system had shown, and focused on the dark energy in his dantian. It stirred, warm and heavy, but it didn't flow like his cultivated qi. His Body Tempering qi was steady, disciplined, built through years of secret meditation. This blood energy was wilder, like a river ready to burst its banks. He pushed it upward, through his arm, feeling it coil in his fingertips. His hand glowed faintly, a red haze flickering around his fingers like a flame.
He followed the vision's steps: a step forward, a twist of the wrist, a slash downward. The air cracked like a whip as the Crimson Claw Strike unleashed, crimson energy surging from his hand in a jagged arc. It hit the oak with a thunderous boom, bark exploding outward, wood splintering in a shower of shards. A deep gash tore through the trunk, nearly cleaving it in half, the upper branches trembling as if struck by lightning. The destruction was staggering, far beyond anything a Body Tempering cultivator should manage. Ruochen stared, breath caught, at the ruined tree. "What kind of power…" he whispered, awe mixing with unease.
But then pain hit, sharp and searing, like needles stabbing through his meridians. The blood energy clashed with his qi, the two forces grinding against each other like mismatched gears. His arm trembled, the red glow fading, and his vision blurred. His dantian churned, sending waves of heat and cold through his body. He gasped, stumbling back, legs unsteady. This was qi shock, a dangerous backlash from conflicting energies. His meridians felt like they were tearing, his cultivated qi fighting the alien blood energy like oil rejecting water. The system flashed in his mind, a warning in stark red.
[Warning: Blood Path energy incompatible with current qi. Adapt cultivation or risk meridian damage.]
Ruochen clutched his chest, sweat beading on his forehead. His legs buckled, and he dropped to one knee, the world spinning. The oak loomed before him, its gash a testament to the strike's power, but his body was paying the price. He tried to stand, to focus, but another wave of pain sent him reeling. The system screen flickered, showing [Crimson Claw Strike: Mastered 5%], as if mocking his struggle.
The sound of the tree's destruction had been loud, too loud. Footsteps pounded behind him, and his father's voice cut through the haze. "Chen'er! What in the heavens was that?" Jian Hao rushed into the clearing, his loose robe flapping, eyes wide with alarm. He froze at the sight of the shattered oak, then saw Ruochen swaying, face pale, hands sparking with fading red light. "Chen'er, what's wrong? What did you do?"
Ruochen tried to answer, his voice weak. "Father… I'm… going to stop them…" His thoughts were on the Azure Sky Sect, their threat to his family, but his body wouldn't obey. His father caught him as he pitched forward, strong arms keeping him from hitting the ground. "Mei! Get out here!" Jian Hao shouted, panic in his voice.
The system screen pulsed one last time in Ruochen's fading vision, the words [Crimson Claw Strike: Mastered 5%] glowing faintly. His mind clung to the image of the torn oak, the raw power he'd unleashed. He'd master this, whatever it took. The Azure Sky Sect wouldn't touch his family. Not while he had this strength.
His consciousness slipped away, his father's worried voice calling his name, the ruined tree standing as a silent promise of the Blood Path's devastating potential.