The Blood Moon Trial ended, but its shadows lingered. Though the Pavilion celebrated the survivors, whispers of three Xu disciples who never returned clung like smoke. Elders chalked their deaths to beasts, but suspicion runs in bloodlines.
The Xu Clan did not weep. They sharpened knives.
---
Three nights after the trial, while the Pavilion slumbered beneath the pale lanterns of Azure Wind Peaks, Feng Xieyun sat cross-legged in the hidden chamber beneath the mountain. His Shadow Veins pulsed faintly, the whispers within them growing clearer, like faint chanting in an unknown tongue.
He breathed deeply. The System hummed.
> [Shadow Veins Refinement: 46%.]
[Blood Sense Active.]
The boy's eyes flicked open suddenly, pupils narrowing. Through stone and silence, he felt it: three hearts beating too fast, too heavy. Their rhythm was wrong for disciples patrolling the outer court. Their intent was sharp, hungry.
"They're here," he whispered.
---
The assassins moved swiftly, clad in black, their auras dampened by talismans. Xu retainers again, but older, stronger, chosen for silence. They crept into his quarters with blades wrapped in cloth, one heading straight for the bedding where his body should have been.
Steel plunged into empty blankets.
From behind them, a voice whispered: "Too slow."
They spun.
Xieyun stood in the doorway, his face shadowed, blade loose at his side. His aura was weak, still Early Qi Refining. But his eyes glinted crimson for just an instant, unseen by all but the dying.
The assassins sneered. "You'll regret not dying in the trial, boy."
They struck.
---
The chamber erupted into chaos. Blades slashed, talismans flared. The assassins fought with ruthless precision, each strike aimed at the heart or throat.
But Xieyun was no prey.
He moved like shadow given form, steps flowing with unnatural ease. Blood Sense whispered each angle before it came, and his sword answered not with strength but with inevitability. A hand severed. A throat pierced. A tendon cut clean through.
One assassin screamed, clutching his arm as it fell limp, but the sound died when Xieyun's blade slid across his neck in a line of crimson.
Blood sprayed across the wooden floor, steaming in the cold night air.
The second lunged, desperate. Xieyun twisted, let the blade slice his robe, and drove his sword into the man's chest. With a flick, he tore downward, spilling entrails that steamed in the lantern-light. The stench filled the chamber.
The last assassin staggered back, eyes wide. "You—what are you—"
Xieyun's face was calm, his voice colder than steel. "You came to end me. You should accept the cost."
The Shadow Veins pulsed. His sword pierced the man's gut, then slid slowly upward. Blood bubbled from the assassin's lips before silence took him.
---
The System chimed in the wake of death.
> [Three Soul Essences Absorbed.]
[Cultivation increased: Late Qi Refining.]
[Demonic Skill Unlocked: Predator's Hunger.]
Heat surged through his body, filling his limbs with power. His heart beat faster, steadier, stronger. For the first time, he felt the hunger of the Demon God Path—a craving for life force, for the warmth of blood stolen from enemies.
The corpses sprawled at his feet, their blood soaking the floorboards.
For a long moment, Feng Xieyun simply stood, listening to the silence.
Then he set to work.
---
By dawn, his quarters were spotless. The bedding was replaced, the floor scrubbed clean. The bodies were gone, swallowed into the hidden chamber where talismans etched with demonic runes devoured all traces of flesh and bone.
To the Pavilion, nothing had happened.
But Xieyun knew the Xu Clan would not stop. Each attack only sharpened his fangs.
---
Later that morning, when he walked into the training square, disciples laughed as always. "The stone-faced weakling survived again," one mocked. Another smirked. "Perhaps he hides under the elder's robes."
Xieyun smiled faintly, the picture of harmlessness. Inside, however, his Shadow Veins thrummed with the memory of blood, and the System whispered like a lover at his ear:
> [Predator's Hunger may now be used in combat.]
[Warning: Excessive use risks corruption of soul.]
He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of stolen Qi settle deep within him. Corruption or not, survival demanded power. And he would not be prey again.
---
That evening, Elder Mo summoned him. The old man's study was dim, lit only by the glow of incense. Mo's eyes, sharp as ever, searched him.
"Three disciples disappeared last night," Mo said. "Outer sect members, not well known. Still, curious, don't you think?"
Xieyun lowered his gaze. "This world is dangerous, Elder. Even within the Pavilion."
Mo's lips curved faintly, though not in mirth. "Indeed. But remember, storms cannot remain hidden forever."
As Xieyun bowed and turned to leave, Mo's voice followed him:
"And storms that feed on blood… drown everything in their path."
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