I moved with calm precision, my vorpal blade carving deep into the crab's shell-flanked side, splitting apart meat segments the size of wine casks. The flesh steamed and hissed in the sea air—striped with coral striations, pulsing with defensive water essence. Each section was dense, layered, and lined with hardened muscle textures only a creature of the deep could evolve.
I hacked free enough for several nights' worth of rations, not just for the ship, but for myself and Felicity—specifically the high-density nutrient cuts layered with tightly packed water essence. The kind of meat you could cultivate off of.
Felicity watched with gleaming approval, licking her lips as we worked.
"You cookin' that?" I asked.
She cocked her head.
"For you? of course. No one beats me in the kitchen."
Back aboard the Crimson Typhoon, no one barred our way.
I walked like a storm given legs—blood-stained, bruised, and victorious.
The crew parted for me instinctively. The harvesters paused their butchering.
Even Captain Riggs said nothing, simply tipping a finger toward his temple in acknowledgment. Felicity followed behind me barefoot, humming softly. Her eyes scanned the crew—watching them watch her. They were afraid. They should be.
But they also owed her. Just like they owed Ash. In the private quarters, warm lamplight and the low groan of the hull framed the quiet after battle atmosphere.
I stripped off my outer battle robe, and entered the cold water in the basin, using my ember coil fire to heat the cold water. Felicity began prepping a small grill in the corner of the small cabin
The crab meat crackled as it hit the heat.
I exhaled and curled into a tight ball in the small basin, and saoked. I pulled the Omni Power Unit from my Bracelet.
I small stone slab with palm conduits, I placed my palms on it, and let my animus surge forward with a metallic flicker—
Shhhh-CRACK.
The device awakened.
Conduits of light arced around its edges. Glyphs bloomed on its surface like frost patterns, revealing my current Cultivation Metrics.
OMNI POWER METER – THREAD COUNT ACCESS: PRIMARY ANIMUS STREAM
Animus Thread Count: 287,472
Thread Stability: 86%
Type: Attack type fire lightening.
Symbiotic Apex Node Detected: Blood Phage Name: Felicity
Qi Efficiency Per Cycle: 92.4%
Vital Organ Fortification:
Heart: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
Lungs: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆
Liver: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆
Stomach: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆
Spine: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
Beast Crystal Sync Rate: 92%
Lightning Essence Conductivity: 7.0
Spiritual Projection Range: ~3,000 miles Vorpal Path Unlocked.
Combat Reflex Multiplier: x4.0 base human form.
I whistled, "That body strengthening technique put in work!"
"My spine is now five-star rated."
Felicity turned from the grill, one brow arched. "And your thread count nearly doubled, huh?"
She was right.
Which was unusual—not just that she was right, though she always made a smug show of it, but that I was alive at all. Let alone stronger. A cultivator who'd gone through what I had—slammed through a stone tower in a life force blast, nerve channels burning under pressure wave shock—that kind of trauma usually left someone crippled. Soul-scored.
At best, retired.
But my vestigium qi was now even thicker, denser. Felicity glanced over her shoulder again, pink eyes gleaming.
"That's from your bloodline power, Ash. The trait of a Blood Berserker—to come back twice as strong from whatever nearly killed them."
I froze, halfway through cycling through my inventory.
"My Bloodline power...is...a Blood Berserker!" She'd said it so casually, but something about the term clicked behind my ribs—like a voice I didn't realize I'd been hearing all my life.
My eyes snapped up. "What else do you know about my bloodline power? Can you help me connect to it!?"
Felicity smirked without looking at me, spinning one of the skewers with a twist of her clawed fingers. The crab meat hissed and popped, scent thick and intoxicating.
"I'll tell you about your Bloodline power..." She turned, crouched beside me again, and whispered with mock-secrecy—
"…for one Sun God Dew Drop."
I groaned.
"You're bartering again?"
"It's not bartering. It's motivation." She winked.
"That little bottle's been in your satchel for weeks.
I know you haven't opened it."
"It's rare."
"So is my knowledge. And unlike your precious dew, I'm fermenting in real time."
I shook my head but reached within the pocket dimension, rummaging through the inventory until I came to once of the glass vials. I withdrew it from the pocket bracelet, the bracelet chimed as the Dew vial popped into my hand. Sun God Dew—distilled from the Sun God Bloom Plant. Said to grant life and illuminate inner meridian scars, as well as cleanse ancestral pathways. I tossed it underhand to her. She caught it between two fingers, "Now that's a fair trade."
She rolled the vial along her knuckles, then with a bit of sleight of hand she made the vial disappear. I tried not to be impressed. Then she leaned forward, her tone shifting into something deeper—softer and ancient. "Ash, your bloodline isn't just rare—it's forbidden. It's old. Before Sutras. Even before martial schools. Born in war, not study.
Cultivators feared it because of what it did to the rules."
She held up a crab skewer, like a pointer offering me the meat.
I slid the meat off the skewer and ate.
"From swimming in your blood stream and analyzing it's epi-genetic history, I determined all the way back in the blood river you were the descendant of at least a Void Walker."
She leaned back, licking crab oil from her thumb. "That or! the other option is that you could be a reincarnated demi-god."
"But your bloodline power is mostly dormant, it appears to be triggered around moments of great need, or perhaps even in the protection of others. Unlike other bloodline inheritances out there, which can be activated on demand, yours functions through need.
"Need?" I thought to myself.
You're only scratching it open through brute force. If you want to actually wield it, we'll need to perform a Bloodline Rite."
"A what?"
She stood, flexing her shoulders. The brazier flared beside her.
"We dive into your ancestral memory together. I walk the inner marrow with you. We find the first one—the berserker who lived through the death of a god—and we steal his scream."
I stared.
"…That sounds extremely dangerous."
She nodded.
"That's why it'll cost you two drops next time."
Felicity padded over, her fingers slick with crab oil, and crouched beside me.
She examined the meter's readout.
Her gaze lingered at the line ' ' Symbiotic Apex Node Detected: Blood Phage Name: Felicity' '
She smiled.
"Look at me. All official now."
I grunted.
"Don't be melodramatic."
She tapped my cheek with an oily finger.
"You're getting stronger. That purple lightening palm strike? It rattled half the reef. I could feel it in my teeth."
I glanced back to the meter. "We're close to a breakthrough."
Felicity returned to the grill and began plating the now-glowing crab meat—crisp at the edges, sizzling with qi-rich fat.
She set a plate down beside me, then leaned close, whispering: "Your Meal Sir." Felicity said as she came over and placed the plate down onto the low-table.
I finished the last bite of grilled crab, wiped my fingers on a rag soaked in herbal astringent, and exhaled.
The meat sat warm and heavy in my gut, I could feel my stomach transforming the foods strength into qi, which would be automatically compressed by my established vestigium qi.
I unrolled the ancestral scroll of the vorpal path across the low table. When I pressed my palm to the sigil on the header, it drank in my qi signature.
Chzzzzzzt...
Lines of ancient script lit up in thin crimson strokes, curving into glyphs I hadn't been able to read before.
Some sparked once—then burst fully into language as if recognizing me for the first time.
More of the scroll unfurled on its own.
A new technique revealed itself.
Vorpal Technique Unlocked: Vorpal Retrieve
Tier 3 Movement / Phantom Grasp.
The skills condition was an animus thread count of 18,000 and a stage II Spirit Man Manifestation.
Condition: Animus Thread Count 18,000 — Core Compression: Stage II — Spirit Man Manifestation Stable
Effect: Enables retrieval of physical-world objects via Spirit Man projection.
The skill also had warning text, attempting to retrieve soul-bounded or sigil-protected items may result in backlash, possession, or temporary amnesia. Quote from the Founder: "If I saw it, it was mine. Distance was just bad manners."
My pulse quickened. I had used my Spirit Man for reconnaissance before—searching island ranges, mapping Ley line flows—but never for material interaction. Until now, it had been vision and pressure alone.
But this—
This meant I could touch, grasp, take.
I could pluck keys from royal necks.
Unseal vaults. Disarm enemies from leagues away.
And more importantly…
I could reach the black pearl's twin resonance without setting foot in enemy territory.
Felicity leaned over my shoulder, licking a speck of crab oil from her palm. "You're reading greedy."
"I'm thinking tactical," I muttered. She peered at the glowing glyphs. "Vorpal Retrieve? Dangerous move."
"But useful."
"If you mess it up and try to yank something soul-locked," she said casually, "your Spirit Man might implode. Or get reverse-hijacked. Or turn inside out and start calling me the host."
I shrugged. "Worth the risk, besides it could be extremely handy in a pinch."
She grinned. "That's my berserker." I closed the scroll with a final sweep of my hand and tucked it into the Bracelet.
The storm outside rumbled deeper. I looked out the porthole, where dark clouds coiled like sleeping serpents, and distant lightning flicked across the sea.
The cabin was dark save for the storm's flickering light beyond the slatted windows.
I sat cross-legged in my quarters, eyes glazed white, breath slow.
Felicity sat nearby, half-curled with a claw tipped over her lips in amused silence, watching as I slipped into the between-state.
My intent swirled forward where it coiled with my qi in the shape of my spirit man—a spectral double etched in red-gold filament, lined in veins of purple lightning. With a breath, I lightly took to the air. It drifted across the deck in silence, unimpeded by door or bulkhead, phasing through wood and steel like a thought through fog. I soared up and out ward flying high into the heavens, and paused, surveying all of the islands beneath me. I extended my spiritual senses and swept for 700 kilometers. There was a ping in my lake of mental energy. "There 7 days to the south east." I flew quickly to the location discovering that it was a place called the flower kingdom of dunan.
I returned to the Crimson Typhoon.
Captain Riggs' quarters were filled with still—books swayed in their netted shelves, the overhead lantern gently swaying. The old pirate captain stirred in his hammock, breathing low and slow. He snorted once, turned—then froze.
My spirit man hovered three feet from the bed. Crimson light pulsed from my chest like a low tide heartbeat. Blue lines spiderwebbed across my translucent arms. My face, though faint and hazy, was unmistakable. The captain blinked. "…Spirits above," he croaked. He bolted upright, sweat clinging to his brow.
His hand went for the cutlass at his bedside—then stopped. "You…you ain't death, are you?" he whispered. "Because I still got cannon shot in the hold and a debt unpaid."
I smiled faintly through the projection. "Not death, Captain. Just news."
Riggs stared, jaw tightening. "A vision, then?"
"Something like that," I said.
"I've found the next link. The heir to the Delta Pirate King's inheritance… is alive."
He blinked.
"That old tale?"
"Not just tale. Confirmed."
My voice echoed slightly, a strange doubling in the projection.
"She's in the coastal flower kingdom of Dunan. South-east waters, seven days with favorable winds. I matched the Black Pearl's qi signature to the royal bloodline."
Riggs leaned forward, eyes narrow but gleaming. "A princess?" I nodded. "Most likely. Or someone being groomed to inherit something big. She has the right frequency. Old blood. The same as the seal on the Dead King's chest hoard." The captain sat back slowly, fingers stroking his beard. "Storms ahead… and treasure in bloom," he muttered. "This changes the voyage. We'll need tighter sails, lighter keel. And we'll be swimming in enemies before we hit their shore."
I let my spirit man drift closer, the light intensifying just enough to cast red across the walls.
"Give the order quietly. Don't wake the rest yet."
Riggs chuckled under his breath, like a man already bargaining with fate. "Aye… spirits don't visit just to chat."
He stood, bare feet on the creaking floor. "Course change by dawn."
"Good," I said.
"And Ash—" he paused as my projection began to dim.
"Yes, Captain?"
"If you are death, and just lying about it…"
A sly grin cut across his weathered face. "You can take a number."
I laughed as my Spirit Man winked out, and back to my quarters, my real eyes opened to candlelight and crab steam. Felicity gave a mock salute from the grill.
"Smooth," she said. "Very Vorpal of you."