The warning Luo Zhen left behind did not fade.
It clung to Liang Feng's bones like frost, seeping into his marrow. Even hours later, as the Blood Valley returned to its usual deathly stillness, the pressure of that single finger still haunted his chest.
Strength.
He needed strength—fast.
"Follow me," Master Shen said before dawn, his tone grim. "If you continue cultivating normally, Luo Zhen will crush you within a year. Maybe less."
Liang Feng wiped dried blood from his lips. "Then where are we going?"
Master Shen's gaze shifted toward the northern cliffs, where the mist never cleared. "A place even warlords avoid."
They reached it by noon.
The land beyond the cliffs was wrong.
No birds. No beasts. No wind.
A massive stone gate jutted from the earth at an angle, half-buried and cracked with age. Ancient symbols—jagged, violent, almost clawed into the stone—covered its surface. Dried blood stained the grooves, blackened with time.
Liang Feng's Blood Qi reacted instantly.
It howled.
His veins burned as if recognizing something familiar… something hungry.
"This is an ancient cultivation ruin," Master Shen said quietly. "Older than the current warlord system. Older than sects. Older than morality."
Liang Feng stepped closer. The symbols seemed to shift beneath his gaze.
"What happened here?"
"A blood cultivator sect," Master Shen replied. "They did not fall to enemies. They devoured themselves."
That made Liang Feng smile.
Master Shen shot him a sharp look. "Do not underestimate this place. This ruin does not grant power freely. It takes payment—often in sanity, flesh, or soul."
Liang Feng placed his palm on the stone gate.
The moment he touched it—
The world inverted.
The gate drank his blood.
A sharp pain ripped across his palm as the stone cracked open with a thunderous roar. Crimson light exploded outward, swallowing both Liang Feng and Master Shen whole.
Darkness.
Then—
Screaming.
Not physical screams.
Memories screaming.
Liang Feng staggered as visions slammed into his mind—countless cultivators tearing each other apart, devouring cores, bathing in blood lakes, laughing as their bodies mutated and broke.
Blood Qi, raw and unrestrained.
He fell to one knee inside the ruin.
The interior was vast—a cathedral of bone and stone. Pillars made from fused skeletons rose into the darkness. Rivers of dried blood formed intricate cultivation arrays on the floor.
At the center stood a throne of flesh and crystal.
And on it—
A corpse.
No.
Something between alive and dead.
Its chest slowly rose and fell.
The figure's eyes snapped open.
Crimson.
Pure.
Ancient.
"So…" the thing rasped. "Another child of blood crawls in."
Liang Feng's Blood Qi erupted violently, instinctively resisting. His knees dug into the stone.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure smiled with broken teeth. "I was called Blood Patriarch Yan."
Master Shen stiffened. "Impossible. You should be dead."
Yan chuckled. "I am. And I am not."
The Blood Qi in the room surged, crushing Liang Feng from all sides. His skin split in dozens of places as pressure forced blood out of his body—only for the ruin to drink it greedily.
"You carry a defective Blood Qi," Yan said. "Crude. Wasteful. Unstable."
Liang Feng snarled. "It's kept me alive."
"Yes," Yan agreed. "But it will also kill you."
The throne cracked as Yan leaned forward.
"I can fix it."
Master Shen shouted, "Liang Feng—don't listen!"
Yan's eyes locked onto Liang Feng. "I can give you True Blood Circulation. A method that refines blood without self-destruction. A path that Luo Zhen fears."
Liang Feng's heartbeat thundered.
"What's the price?"
Yan's smile widened.
"You must survive Blood Assimilation."
The floor beneath Liang Feng collapsed.
He fell—
Into blood.
Not liquid.
Memory.
Agony.
The blood invaded him violently, forcing itself into his veins, bones, organs. His Blood Qi screamed as it was torn apart, reconstructed, compressed.
His bones cracked.
His heart stopped—
Then restarted.
Slower.
Heavier.
Every heartbeat sent waves of condensed Blood Qi through his body, no longer wild—coiled.
Controlled.
But monstrously dense.
Liang Feng screamed as veins turned black-red, skin hardening, senses exploding beyond human limits. He saw everything—every drop of blood in the ruin, every echo of death.
The process nearly broke him.
Nearly.
When it ended, he lay in a crater of shattered stone, chest rising slowly.
Yan laughed weakly. "Good… very good… You survived."
Liang Feng stood.
The world felt different.
Sharper.
Quieter.
His Blood Qi no longer flared outward recklessly.
It sat deep within him.
Waiting.
"What did you do to me?" Liang Feng asked, voice unnaturally calm.
Yan's body began to crumble. "I gave you a foundation… one that devours others."
Master Shen approached cautiously, eyes wide. "Your aura…"
Liang Feng clenched his fist.
The air collapsed inward.
Stone shattered silently.
Blood Qi did not explode.
It consumed.
Liang Feng exhaled slowly.
"Good," he said.
Outside the ruin, the sky darkened.
Somewhere far away—
Luo Zhen paused.
And for the first time—
He frowned.