The silence that followed Elder Mo's failed scream was heavy as a gravestone.
Mo Zha lay flat on his back, sinking into silk sheets that already reeked of sour sweat and the sweet scent of poison. His body had become a prison of flesh; the Crimson Silence Dew had turned his blood and energy into thick sludge, leaving him unable to move even a finger. Only his eyes remained alive. They rolled wildly in their sockets, bloodshot and frantic, searching desperately for an escape that did not exist.
Above him, Xie Luan let the mask fall.
There was no trace left of the frightened boy. His posture relaxed, his shoulders shedding the tension of feigned fear. He looked down at the Elder with the calm of someone observing an insect trapped in amber.
"Don't struggle, Elder," Xie Luan whispered, gently brushing a damp lock of hair from his victim's forehead. "Your throat is clenched tight. If you try to scream, the pressure will only make your eyes burst."
Mo Zha released a wet gurgle. A bubble of saliva burst on his lips. What are you? his gaze screamed.
Xie Luan placed his palm against Mo's bare, hairy stomach. The skin was cold—a brutal contrast to the fever burning the Elder from within.
"You wanted to use me to feed yourself, didn't you?" Xie Luan said, slowly digging his nails into the flabby flesh. "You wanted to empty me to make yourself stronger. I don't blame you. The strong devour the weak. That's the law of the jungle. The problem, Mo Zha, is that you never checked what kind of beast you dragged into your bed."
Xie Luan leaned down until his nose was almost touching Mo's."You're not the hunter here," he whispered. "You're the meal."
Mo felt absolute terror. He tried with everything he had left to call upon his fire, the power that had made him feel invincible for so many years. But inside him, the fire had gone out. Only cold remained.
Xie Luan raised his right hand. Five crimson threads bloomed from his fingertips—thin, translucent, writhing in the air like worms seeking rotting flesh.
At the sight of them, Mo's mind shattered. Sorcery.
Xie Luan gave him no time to think. He slammed his hand down. The threads did not cut the skin; they passed through it as if flesh were smoke, plunging directly below Mo's navel—into the core where cultivators store their life.
Mo's body arched violently in a silent spasm. His heels struck the mattress. It wasn't the pain of wounds—it was worse. He felt something foreign and starving crawling through his insides, wrapping around his soul, searching for the root of his strength.
Xie Luan closed his eyes and pulled.
"Eat."
It felt as if Mo's bones were being ripped out without breaking the skin. His life poured away—memories, years of effort, vitality—all of it flowing outward, sucked into the pale monster straddling him.
Xie Luan inhaled deeply. Color returned to his cheeks as Mo's energy flooded into him. It was filthy—dense, tainted by decades of greed and dark desire. It tasted like swamp water.
Mediocre, Xie Luan thought with disgust. His power is full of garbage. But it will do.
Hunger doesn't care about quality.
Xie Luan forced the raw energy into his own fragile body, using it like a hammer to shatter the blockages that had kept him weak.
Crack. A dry sound echoed inside his chest as old fractures fused instantly.Crack. His muscles tightened, filling with stolen strength.
In seconds, he went from crippled to possessing the power of a bull. The sensation was intoxicating—and dangerous. If he lost control, he'd drain Mo dry instantly. He had planned to do this slowly, to avoid leaving obvious marks.
Then reality knocked.
BAM! BAM!
"Elder Mo!" The voice came from the corridor—Chen Liu, the steward. He sounded terrified. "Open the door! It's urgent!"
Mo's body trembled with pathetic hope. His eyes snapped toward the door. Help! I'm here!
Xie Luan didn't even look back. His hand remained buried in Mo's abdomen."Your dog barks a lot," he murmured.
"Elder!" Chen Liu shouted again, pounding the wood. "People from above have arrived! The Envoy of the Crane Tower is here! They demand to see you immediately!"
The Envoy? Xie Luan frowned. That changed everything. If they entered now and saw him connected to the Elder by blood threads, he would be executed on the spot. No lie could cover this.
The slow plan was over. He had to improvise—and fast.
"Change of plans, Mo," Xie Luan said, opening his eyes. His pupils had expanded until they swallowed the whites completely—two black voids in a porcelain face. "I was going to let you live a little longer. But your friends are impatient."
Xie Luan stopped holding back. He opened the floodgates and pulled hard.
What happened to Mo Zha was a nightmare.
His sweat-slick skin shriveled like forgotten fruit left in the sun. The fat melted away. His eyes sank deep into their sockets, like stones at the bottom of a dry well. His black hair turned gray and brittle, falling out in clumps.
In three seconds, Elder Mo aged fifty years.
He died with a soundless grimace, reduced to a sack of bones wrapped in dry skin atop red silk sheets.
Xie Luan yanked his hand free. The crimson threads dissolved into the air. He stepped off the bed, swaying. The stolen energy boiled inside him—wild, hot, threatening to burn him alive.
He looked at the corpse.
It was a disaster. Anyone who saw it would know it was dark arts. No man naturally withers like that.
"I'm breaking down the door!" Chen Liu shouted outside. The wood began to crack.
Xie Luan inhaled deeply. His cold mind seized control over the chaos in his body.
Five seconds.
One. Evidence.He rushed to the bedside table, grabbed a bottle of red pills—fire-based aphrodisiac boosters Mo used in excess—and stuffed handfuls into the corpse's open mouth. Overdose.
Two. Fire.He pulled a cheap yellow fire talisman from his pocket—the one he'd bought at the market—and slapped it onto the sunken chest. Using a spark of the very fire energy he'd stolen from Mo, he ignited it.
FWOOSH!
White flames roared instantly. The oil-soaked sheets, silk robes, and desiccated flesh caught at once. In a blink, the bed became a raging inferno.
Three. The Victim.Xie Luan tore his robe, punched his own nose until it cracked, feeling warm blood spill down his lip. He messed up his hair and threw himself to the floor, coughing, smearing his face with ash and fake tears.
The door exploded inward. Wood splinters flew.
Chen Liu stumbled in, followed by two guards with drawn swords. What they saw stopped them cold. A wall of fire consumed the bed, licking at the painted ceiling. The heat slammed into them like a physical blow.
And there—crawling across the floor at Chen Liu's feet—was the "poor" boy, bloodied, coughing black smoke.
"Help!" Xie Luan screamed, clutching Chen Liu's ankle with trembling hands. "The Elder! He went mad!"
Chen Liu stared at the blaze in horror, shielding his eyes. "What happened?!" he shouted over the roar.
"He took the pills!" Xie Luan sobbed, pointing at the inferno. "All the red ones! He laughed, said he was a god—and then he started burning! He exploded from the inside! I tried to help him but it burns! It burns so much!"
Chen Liu went pale. He knew those pills. He knew Mo abused them. A fire-Qi deviation from overdose… it made terrible sense. The body couldn't endure that much heat. It simply combusted.
The steward looked at the fire. There was no body left to save—only a black silhouette writhing as the flames erased all evidence.
Mo Zha was dead.
And with him, Chen Liu's career.
"Water!" Chen Liu shouted at the guards, backing into the corridor. "Bring water before the entire pavilion burns!"
No one spared a second glance for the sobbing boy on the floor. No one suspected the "accident" had been planned down to the second.
No one noticed that behind the hands covering his tear- and blood-streaked face, Xie Luan was smiling.
He had survived.He had fed.And now, the stage was clean.