The alarm bell did not stop.
It boomed through the slave yard again and again. Deep. Heavy. Each strike made the iron bars rattle.
Dong.
Dong.
Dong.
The sound rolled over the cages and up the stone walls, into the outer sect buildings above.
The slaves flinched at every hit.
Some curled into balls in the corners of their cages.
Some clung to the bars and stared at me.
I stood in the middle of the yard.
Blood ran down my arms. It dripped from my fingertips and pattered on the dirt. My foot still had a hole in it, but raw flesh had already begun to pull together. My ribs hurt when I breathed, but they did not grind.
The Devourer Bloodline was still eating.
Every heartbeat made my dantian spin.
I liked that feeling.
A guard ran out from a side door.
He saw the bodies at the pit entrance.
He stopped like he had hit a wall.
Scar-Tooth's corpse lay half in, half out of the gate. The skin of his neck was torn. Meat and veins hung open. His eyes stared at nothing.
Big Toad was still in the pit.
Someone had thrown a cloth over what was left of his face.
The guard gagged.
Then he saw me.
His eyes went wide.
He turned to run.
I picked up a fallen spear and hurled it.
The shaft whistled through the air.
It punched into his back and came out his chest. The head burst through ribs and meat. Blood sprayed in a wide fan.
He stumbled two steps and dropped.
He twitched once and went still.
I tasted his qi from here.
Thin. Weak.
Not worth walking over for.
The slaves murmured.
"He's killing the guards."
"He's really killing them."
"We can get out..."
"Shut up. They'll kill us all."
"Look at his eyes. They're wrong."
They were right.
I could feel something wrong in me.
My heartbeat was too loud.
My breath felt thick.
Every person I looked at, my mind tagged as prey.
Even the old man I had freed.
Even the kids.
My fingers tightened.
The bars of the nearest cage groaned.
I forced my hand to let go.
Not them.
Not yet.
I turned my back on the cages and walked toward the outer gate.
It was a heavy wooden door bound with iron. A portcullis of bars sat above it, raised.
Two bodies lay under it, flattened into a smear of broken bone and meat. Someone had tried to shut the gate in a hurry.
Too slow.
I stepped over them.
Footsteps pounded in the corridor beyond.
Shouts bounced off the stone.
"Seal the slave yard!"
"Bring the beast handlers!"
"Report to Elder Jiang!"
Elder Jiang was already dead.
They just didn't know it.
I stepped into the corridor.
It was narrow and dark, lit only by a few torches on the walls. Blood smeared the floor where someone had been dragged.
A young outer disciple rounded the corner.
He almost ran into me.
He was maybe seventeen, with a patchy beard and soft hands. His robe was neat. His sword was still in its sheath.
He froze.
His eyes dropped to the blood on my chest. The torn flesh. The hole in my foot.
Then his gaze crept up to my face.
I must have been smiling.
His hands shook.
"Y-you're the pit slave," he said.
"Yes," I said.
He wet his lips.
"Stay... stay where you are," he stammered. "The elders are coming. If you kneel now—"
I stepped forward.
He took three steps back.
His hand fumbled for his sword.
He drew it, but his grip was weak.
"Don't come closer!" he shouted.
His voice cracked.
He pointed the blade at my throat.
I kept walking.
He thrust.
It was clumsy and slow.
I slapped the sword aside with one hand and grabbed his wrist with the other. His bone felt fragile. I squeezed.
Cracks.
He screamed.
The sword dropped.
I pulled him close.
"Don't—" he began.
I sank my teeth into his neck.
He shrieked.
Warm blood burst into my mouth. It ran down my chin. It flooded over my tongue.
His qi flowed in, and with it, his memories.
His first crush on a senior sister.
His boredom during cultivation lessons.
His annoyance when ordered to watch the slave pits.
His plans to sneak wine tonight.
All of it burned away as my dantian sucked it dry.
He sagged in my hands.
His life faded.
His heart stopped.
I dropped him.
He hit the floor like a sack of meat.
I wiped my mouth on his sleeve.
The next three disciples turned the corner, swords drawn, talking to each other.
"It's just slaves, right?"
"Yeah, but they said demonic—"
They stopped.
They saw me.
They saw the body.
None of them spoke.
We stared at each other for a heartbeat.
Then they screamed.
One turned to run.
The other two rushed me.
Their swords flashed.
They were faster than the last boy.
Barely.
The first swung for my neck.
I ducked.
Steel sliced a line across the wall, sending sparks into the dark.
I punched his stomach.
My fist sank in.
His body folded over my arm.
I grabbed his hair and drove his face into the stone.
His nose broke with a wet crunch. Teeth scattered. His skull cracked.
I bit his ear off as he slid down.
The second disciple stabbed for my chest.
I twisted.
The blade drove into my shoulder.
Pain flared.
I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him onto the sword. The steel went through my flesh and scraped bone.
He stared at me, shocked.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"Too slow," I said.
I bit his cheek.
He shrieked, but I didn't stop.
I tore the flesh off.
My teeth ripped through skin, fat, muscle.
His qi raced into me.
My wound knit around the steel.
I pulled the sword out of my own shoulder. Blood poured for a breath, then slowed.
The disciple dropped his weapon and fell backward, hands on his face. What was left of it.
His screams echoed down the hall.
I stepped on his throat.
It crushed with a wet sound.
Silence came back.
The third disciple had run.
Footsteps faded fast.
I didn't chase him.
I had more important things to do.
I licked blood from my lips and moved on.
The corridor opened into the outer disciples' training ground.
I'd seen it once, when they dragged me past in chains.
Now, bodies lay on the dirt.
Some had throats ripped out by wolves.
Some had heads smashed.
The iron-fanged wolves were loose.
One lay dead nearby, its chest torn open. Its ribs were broken, and its heart was gone.
I remembered eating that.
There were still three wolves alive.
They tore at a man's body, fighting over his intestines.
One wolf raised its head.
Its muzzle was red.
It sniffed the air.
Then it fixed its yellow eyes on me.
It growled.
The sound made the air vibrate.
The other two wolves looked up.
They hunched, muscles tense.
Their lips curled, showing long teeth.
They smelled blood and demon qi.
They smelled a threat.
Or a rival.
We stared at each other.
Then I grinned.
"Come on," I said.
They charged.
The first wolf leaped, claws out.
I stepped forward and met it.
My hand slammed into its lower jaw.
I grabbed its tongue and yanked.
Hard.
The tongue tore free in a spray of blood.
The wolf crashed into me, claws raking my chest. It drove me back. Its body slammed into mine. Its weight hammered my ribs.
I wrapped my arms around its neck.
Its hot breath washed over my face.
It thrashed.
I bit into its throat.
The fur stuck between my teeth. The skin was thick. The taste was musky and wild.
I bit deeper until I felt the gush.
Blood flooded my mouth.
Beast qi poured into me, hot and savage.
The wolf twitched and went limp.
The other two hit me from the side.
Teeth sank into my arm and shoulder.
One tore a chunk from my back.
My vision flashed.
Pain.
Hunger.
I rolled, using the dead wolf as a shield.
One wolf sank its teeth into its dead pack mate instead.
I kicked the second wolf in the stomach.
Its body lifted off the ground and flew.
It slammed into a corpse and skidded, ribs cracking.
It jumped again.
I met it halfway.
With both hands, I grabbed its head.
I dug my thumbs into its eyes.
The wolf howled.
I pushed until my thumbs sank deep.
Wet jelly burst.
The howl cut off.
I tore its head to the side.
Neck bones snapped.
The last wolf lunged.
I grabbed its lower jaw with one hand and its upper jaw with the other.
Its teeth closed on my fingers.
I ignored it.
I pulled.
The jawbone strained.
The skin at the corners of its mouth split.
Blood ran down its fur.
I pulled harder.
The jaw cracked.
With a final wrench, I tore its lower jaw off.
It flapped uselessly, tongue hanging.
The wolf staggered, making wet choking sounds.
I sank my teeth into its neck.
Beast qi flowed into me again.
My bloodline liked the taste.
My chest wounds closed.
My torn back sealed.
I pushed the limp body away and stood up.
The training ground shook with footsteps.
Dozens of outer disciples formed up at the far side.
They wore matching robes.
They held spears, swords, hammers.
They stood in tidy rows.
Behind them, at the steps of a tall building, stood an elder.
Not Jiang.
Another one.
This man had long black hair tied with a gold ring. His robe was cleaner. He held a long spear.
His eyes were cold.
His qi pressed on the air.
Foundation Establishment realm.
He looked down at the corpses.
He looked at the wolves.
He looked at me.
"You did this?" he asked.
His voice was flat.
I smiled.
"Yes," I said.
He twirled his spear once.
"Outer disciples," he said, not raising his voice. "Formation three. Kill the demon."
They moved.
Lines shifted.
Spears lowered.
Swords rose.
They marched forward as one.
The first row of spears thrust as one.
I rushed them.
My bare feet pounded the blood-soaked dirt.
Speartips flashed.
I twisted between them, letting one scrape my ribs, another slice my arm.
I grabbed the shaft of the third and yanked.
The disciple holding it stumbled toward me.
I pulled him off his feet and swung him into his own comrades.
Two went down.
I dropped the spear and jumped into the gap.
Steel flashed all around.
Blades nicked my skin.
They cut into my shoulders, my arms, my sides.
Blood sprayed with every cut.
I hit back.
My fist slammed into a jaw.
Teeth shattered.
A kick caved in a chest. Ribs punched out through a back. Meat and bone tore free.
I grabbed one disciple's head with both hands and slammed it into another's face.
Skulls cracked.
One weapon sliced across my stomach.
My guts bulged forward.
I caught them with one hand and shoved them back inside.
With the other hand, I grabbed the wrist that held the sword and broke it.
The disciple screamed.
I shut him up with my teeth.
I bit his lips off.
Blood filled my mouth again.
Warm.
Sweet.
Full of qi.
More disciples died.
They stabbed me.
They slashed me.
They tripped and fell.
Some tried to crawl away.
I followed them.
I crushed throats.
I tore out chunks of meat.
Every kill made the spinning in my dantian faster.
My body knotted back together even as it was torn.
Half the formation broke.
The rest tried to retreat.
"Hold the line!" the elder shouted.
His spear flashed.
He hurled it.
The weapon flew like a streak of light.
It aimed straight for my heart.
I twisted.
It punched through my left shoulder instead.
The force spun me around.
I staggered.
The spear pinned me to the ground.
The elder walked toward me.
The remaining disciples scattered out of his way.
He stopped a few steps away and looked down.
Up close, I could see the lines on his face.
He wasn't that old.
Maybe thirty.
He looked at the dead around me.
Then back at me.
"You should not exist," he said.
"Too late," I said.
He raised his right hand.
Qi gathered there.
It was heavy and thick.
It pressed on my skull.
My shoulder burned around the spear.
I wrapped my hand around the shaft.
I pulled.
My flesh tore.
Blood poured.
I kept pulling.
The spear slid out of the ground.
Then out of my body.
My arm screamed.
My vision swam.
I held the spear in both hands.
The elder frowned.
"Impossible," he said.
I laughed.
It hurt.
"Come take it," I said.
He did not hesitate.
He flashed forward.
One moment he was five steps away.
The next, he was in front of me.
His palm smashed into my chest.
Bone cracked.
My back hit the ground.
Air burst out of my lungs.
He reached for the spear.
I thrust it up.
The tip caught him under the ribs.
It punched in.
For a moment, we both froze.
His eyes widened.
My hands shook.
The spear went deeper.
I felt it scrape bone and then break through.
Hot blood gushed over my hands.
He coughed.
Blood sprayed my face.
"Impossible," he said again.
I pulled him closer on the shaft.
Then I bit his throat.
His qi was rich and dense.
It poured into me like hot wine.
It burned all the way down.
His memories crashed into mine.
Years of cultivation.
Secret techniques.
The location of the sect's medicine hall.
The fact that Sect Master Huo was in seclusion, fusing his second core.
He tried to push me away.
He couldn't.
His strength leaked out with his blood.
He dropped to his knees.
His hands slipped off the spear.
He toppled.
I pulled my mouth away and gulped air.
My ribs knit in my chest.
The hole in my shoulder closed.
The cuts sealing everywhere itched.
The remaining disciples stared at me.
One dropped his sword and ran.
Another vomited.
A third fell to his knees and bowed his head.
"Spare me," he whispered.
I walked past him.
I didn't bother to kill him.
Not yet.
There was something bigger ahead.
Through an archway, past the training ground, I could see it.
Iron Fang Sect's inner gate.
Tall walls.
Heavy doors carved with fangs.
Red banners.
Beyond that, more qi.
Stronger.
My bloodline purred.
"Next," I said.
And I walked toward the inner sect.