After the last drop of blood was devoured,
a thick, viscous red mist clung to Li Wei's skin like a second, living flesh.
The battlefield was dead silent —
no cries, no breathing, no life.
Only the monstrous heartbeat that pounded louder and louder in the eerie silence.
Thump.
Thump.
THUMP.
Li Wei sat cross-legged on the shattered ground,
closing his eyes as he entered a deep, unstable cultivation trance.
The blood mist thickened around him, rotating faster like a crimson hurricane,
seeping into every pore of his body.
His heart...
a once normal organ...
began to mutate.
The blood didn't just merge with his veins —
it spiraled around his heart, forming chains, spikes,
binding it in a chaotic, demonic grip.
Suddenly, his heart started beating faster — wildly, unnaturally fast —
like a drum of madness.
BA-BOOM.
BA-BOOM.
BA-BOOM.
Each beat sent waves of searing pain through his entire body.
It felt as if molten iron was being poured into his bones.
Li Wei's face contorted in agony.
Veins across his body bulged out grotesquely, looking like writhing black snakes under his skin.
His teeth clenched so hard that blood oozed from his gums.
Then —
his eyes shot open.
Gone was any trace of humanity.
His sclera was black as a void,
and his irises burned a demonic crimson like twin hellfires.
He clutched his chest,
screaming a howl so savage, so otherworldly,
that the ground itself fractured around him in a spiderweb of deep cracks.
> "AAAGGHHHHHHH!!!"
The sound was not human.
It was the cry of a being breaking the chains of mortality.
Blood erupted from his mouth, spraying the ground before him in a dark, steaming puddle.
The blood mist, instead of vanishing, was now feeding itself back into him,
as if the battlefield's hatred and death were fueling his metamorphosis.
Crack!
A visible tear ran down his chest —
his skin splitting, revealing a glimpse of something inhuman beneath:
a dark, armor-like texture growing over his heart,
like the shell of a newborn monster.
The heart beat so violently now that it looked like it would blast through his ribcage at any second.
The circulating blood around his heart condensed further —
taking shape into a blood lotus with razor-sharp petals,
every pulse making the petals slice the inside of his chest.
His scream deepened, turning into a guttural, gutted growl.
Thunder rumbled overhead.
The clouds spiraled into a dark whirlpool above him.
The heavens themselves seemed to recoil from what was happening.
Those few cultivators hiding far away —
the ones who somehow survived —
watched this in absolute horror, trembling,
realizing that they were not witnessing a man cultivating anymore.
They were witnessing the birth of a blood-devouring monster.
One muttered in terror:
> "He's... creating a demon heart..."
And then —
BOOM!
A final, deafening explosion of blood and spirit energy blasted outwards.
Trees snapped like twigs.
Boulders disintegrated into dust.
The bodies of the dead shattered into mist.
At the center of it all, standing in a deep crater,
was Li Wei.
Half of his body was wrapped in a terrifying blood-red armor that pulsed like living tissue.
From his back, faint spectral images of twisted, screaming souls flickered for a moment —
proof of the countless lives he had devoured.
Li Wei looked at his own blood-stained hand,
his cold, inhuman smile returning.
> "Now... this world will bleed for me."
Li Wei stood in the center of the shattered battlefield,
his body half-sheathed in a thick, blood-forged armor
that clung to him like a second, corrupted skin.
He looked at his crimson-covered arm, flexing his fingers slowly,
listening to the faint, wet sounds as the blood armor shifted with his movement.
His lips curled into a demonic grin as he muttered,
his voice low and monstrous:
> "This... is only half done."
"When it covers me entirely..."
"I will possess a shield that no god or demon can break."
The armor pulsed with each beat of his mutated heart,
its surface alive, almost breathing.
It wasn't armor anymore — it had fused with his flesh,
becoming part of him, forever.
The few survivors — three cultivators — were trembling far away,
their faces as pale as corpses,
their bodies frozen in terror.
They dared not move,
but they knew...
they had been seen.
Li Wei's head tilted slightly,
like a wolf spotting wounded prey.
His eyes — burning blood-red — locked onto them.
Without chanting,
without gathering spiritual energy,
without even taking a full stance —
he simply raised his blood-soaked hand.
The air twisted violently around his arm.
It was not spiritual power — it was something worse:
pure, brutal, monstrous force.
He formed a loose fist.
Then —
he punched toward them through the air.
The world reacted.
BOOOOOOOM!
A column of crimson light exploded from his fist,
not blazing like fire,
but dense, thick, crushing —
like a tsunami of condensed blood and hatred.
The beam struck the three cultivators before they could even scream.
In the blink of an eye:
Their flesh evaporated into steam.
Their bones cracked, shattered into black dust.
Their very souls were torn apart, shredded into a mist of sorrow.
There was no chance for resistance, no final cry,
only a horrible silence as they ceased to exist.
The blast didn't just kill them —
it erased their existence,
leaving behind only a massive crater,
a deep scar on the battlefield.
The ground where they once stood was blackened,
charred, still smoking.
Cracks spread out like the legs of a giant spider.
Even the surrounding trees combusted,
reduced to ash by the force of that one casual punch.
Li Wei slowly lowered his arm,
the red mist around him growing even thicker.
He closed his eyes for a moment,
listening to the death,
breathing it in,
feeding on it.
When he opened them again,
there was nothing human left in his gaze.
Only the monstrous hunger of a being who had crossed the line of mortality.
He whispered with a terrifying calm:
> "You are insects... standing before a god of blood."
The sky rumbled, the earth groaned,
as if the world itself realized that something truly evil had been born that day.
Li Wei stood alone amidst the ruins of the battlefield,
the scent of blood and burnt earth thick in the air.
He let out a long, deep breath,
a misty vapor escaping his lips,
as if he was releasing the last remnants of humanity still trapped inside him.
As he exhaled,
his body began to change subtly but surely.
His previously battered and bloodied frame straightened,
his bones cracking softly into perfect alignment,
his muscles tightening and flowing like a work of divine craftsmanship.
His height increased slightly,
giving him a towering, regal presence.
His shoulders widened,
his waist slimmed,
his entire physique forming the image of an ideal warrior —
powerful, graceful, and terrifyingly flawless.
His hair, once messy and blood-matted,
grew longer, cascading down past his shoulders like a silken black river.
The strands shimmered faintly under the dim light,
each thread moving like it had a life of its own.
He brought his hand up to his face,
and for a moment, even he was startled.
His facial features had been sharpened, refined to a level of cruel beauty:
Jawline like it was carved from obsidian.
Eyes glowing faintly crimson, cold and emotionless.
Lips slightly curved into a serene, almost mocking smile.
He was now impossibly handsome,
a face that could make gods jealous —
but behind that heavenly exterior,
lurking just beneath the surface,
was the undeniable aura of a demon,
a silent whisper of death and blood.
Li Wei glanced down at himself.
His previous clothes were completely shredded,
hanging from his body in pitiful rags.
Without any urgency,
he reached into his storage ring
and pulled out a new set of clothing.
At first glance, it was simple — almost ancient in design —
but as he draped it over himself, it became clear:
A plain deep red robe wrapped across his torso —
the color of drying blood, rich and dignified.
Below, he wore a pure white cloth tied tightly around his waist and legs,
the snowy fabric a sharp contrast to the violent aura he radiated.
The red and white combination was striking,
enhancing his elegance yet highlighting his danger.
His long, flowing black hair framed his new appearance perfectly,
sometimes drifting weightlessly with the faint wind —
like a spirit haunting a battlefield.
As he tied the last knot on his robe,
he stood still for a few seconds,
his blood-red eyes scanning the horizon.
The bloodline energy swirling around him had calmed,
but it had not disappeared —
it coiled around him invisibly,
like an unseen predator waiting to strike again.
Anyone who would see him now,
would be fooled by his ethereal beauty —
until they looked into his eyes,
and realized:
> "This was no longer a man. This was something else. Something the heavens themselves had abandoned."
Li Wei gave a slow, almost lazy smile.
He flexed his fingers — his new body felt light, perfect, and indestructible.
The battlefield, still smoldering behind him,
seemed like a fitting stage for the birth of a new tyrant.
He whispered quietly to the wind,
his voice carrying far across the silent plain:
> "Now... the true hunt begins."
Li Wei stood silently in the heart of the ruined battlefield,
a crimson mist still lingering in the air —
the breath of death itself.
The thick shield of blood energy covering half his body was now absorbed into his very bones,
leaving behind an invisible armor,
tougher than any forged steel.
His cultivation realm had made a terrifying leap —
5th Stage: Grinding Realm —
a realm where the body and spirit are crushed, molded, and reborn like refined iron.
But unlike ordinary cultivators who crawled slowly toward each breakthrough,
Li Wei had ascended through blood, death, and madness.
He gently clenched his fist.
> Boom.
A faint shockwave burst outward just from that simple motion,
cracking the broken ground beneath his feet even further.
His heart — now infused with the blood of hundreds —
beat with a slow, thunderous rhythm.
Every pulse sent a wave of invisible dominance rolling over the dead land.
He turned his gaze outward,
his blood-red eyes scanning the silent battlefield.
Broken weapons, shattered bones,
pieces of armor and flesh scattered like worthless trash.
Not a single living being stirred.
For a moment, it looked as though Li Wei stood at the center of the world —
alone,
unmatched,
untouched by heaven or hell.
He breathed in deeply,
the stench of blood and burnt flesh filling his lungs like sweet perfume.
He closed his eyes briefly, savoring it —
the taste of absolute domination.
Opening his eyes again,
he let out a low chuckle —
a sound that seemed too soft for how menacing it was.
> "Too easy..."
He took a slow step forward.
With each step, the crimson mist parted for him,
like the world itself was unwilling to touch his cursed figure.
Ashes and dust swirled around his feet,
forming faint spiral patterns — as if the dead were bowing their heads to him in surrender.
His new red and white robes fluttered gently in the cold wind,
his long black hair trailing like a banner of conquest behind him.
With no rush, no fear, no hesitation,
Li Wei walked away from the battlefield,
leaving behind only silence, ruin, and an overwhelming sense of dread.
The land that once bore proud warriors and demonic beasts alike,
was now nothing more than a forgotten graveyard under his feet.
From that day forward,
those who had witnessed the scene would remember only one thing:
> "The blood-soaked demon with the smile of a god, and the heart of the devil."
And Li Wei, without once looking back,
disappeared into the gray mist,
carrying with him a new storm that the world was yet to see.