Blood dripped steadily onto the stone floor, pooling beneath Elder Kong as he knelt on trembling limbs. The once serene meditation chamber was now a scarred ruin, streaked with scorch marks, gouged by claws of bestial Qi, and splattered with trails of crimson. Elder Kong's breathing was ragged, labored, every inhale a sharp agony. His robes, soaked dark with blood, clung heavily to his battered body, shredded into tatters by Han Long's relentless assault.
Standing triumphantly before him was Han Long, his expression twisted into a ruthless sneer. His body emanated bestial Qi so dense and oppressive it distorted the very air around him, swirling like mist in violent eddies. Each pulse of his Qi summoned phantom beasts. Spectral wolves, shadowy tigers, fiery serpents circled him hungrily, awaiting his command.
Elder Kong said nothing, lips cracked, face pale. But despite his pitiful state, a glimmer of defiance still burned fiercely behind his eyes, a spark Han couldn't extinguish.
Han raised a hand lazily, forming claws from pure bestial Qi. They crackled with energy, shimmering with lethal promise. His voice dropped dangerously low, like the growl of a predator savoring a final kill. "This is the end, old man."
Yet as Han prepared his final strike, fingers curled, Elder Kong's lips twisted slowly upward into a faint, bloodied smile.
Han hesitated, suspicion flickering briefly across his face.
"You," Elder Kong rasped, voice barely audible yet steady, "have forgotten one critical thing."
Han's eyes narrowed, impatience flaring into irritation. "What?"
"Blood," Elder Kong whispered softly, his gaze sharp despite his suffering. "Blood is liquid."
Han's expression shifted too late from confusion to startled realization. Elder Kong's fingers moved with astonishing speed despite his injuries, weaving rapidly through a desperate technique. Instantly, the blood that had pooled around him surged upward like liquid blades, slicing through the air with precise, deadly intent.
Caught off guard, Han stumbled backward, barely managing to raise his arms defensively as blades of crimson pierced the air around him, slashing deep gashes into his shoulder, chest, and thigh. Pain exploded through him, fierce and unexpected, drawing an enraged howl from his throat.
The attack caused Han to stagger, his eyes blazing with fury.
Ignoring Han's outrage, Elder Kong shifted rapidly through another form, his gestures urgent and precise. A single droplet of blood separated quietly from the rest, discreetly slipping toward the chamber's exit like a tiny serpent of scarlet silk, weaving silently through the shadows.
With a shout of fury, Han surged forward again, his bestial Qi erupting violently. Elder Kong's desperate defense faltered rapidly, the limited volume of blood he commanded quickly diminishing with every strike, each pulse of bestial Qi vaporizing his dwindling resources. Soon, Elder Kong's attacks grew weak, erratic, unable to sustain the intensity required.
Han's claws plunged through Elder Kong's final blood barrier, shattering it effortlessly. A brutal strike sent Elder Kong crashing backward into the chamber wall with sickening force, his body slumping heavily onto the ground, broken and barely breathing.
Unnoticed by Han, the single droplet of Elder Kong's blood had continued its silent escape, slithering inconspicuously through cracks and seams in the stone passageways. Guided by Elder Kong's powerful intention, it moved with uncanny precision, traveling swiftly yet unnoticed through the sect's inner corridors, slipping silently past oblivious disciples and guards.
Kai Feng sat cross-legged in his own meditation chamber, immersed deeply in cultivation. Metal Qi surged powerfully within him, guided by the methods of the Celestial Eclipse Manual he had painstakingly deciphered from the Shrine. His body felt refined, each meridian pulsing with newly-forged strength, a profound resonance humming deeply within his core.
A soft drip drew Kai's attention suddenly. His eyes snapped open as he noticed the small droplet of blood slipping quietly under the closed door, sliding directly toward him. Before he could question its meaning, the droplet rose before him, suspended in mid-air, swiftly shaping itself into vivid characters that glowed faintly with Elder Kong's unmistakable Qi signature:
"Kai, urgent danger. Hurry."
The characters dispersed immediately, returning to a simple droplet that splattered onto the ground. But Kai had already risen, heart hammering fiercely. Elder Kong's distress call could only mean one thing, the elder was close to death.
He bolted from the room, his Qi blazing powerfully around him as he raced toward Elder Kong's meditation chamber, desperation fueling every step.
Back in the meditation chamber, the next clash came fast. Han charged again, his movements savage and wild, no longer clean and surgical. Elder Kong, despite his injuries, met him with renewed fire, guiding his blood like living threads of vengeance.
The chamber trembled beneath the force of their unrelenting clash, two figures locked in a brutal dance of raw will and elemental power. Crimson arcs of blood spiraled like blades through the air, slicing against streaks of black, each strike colliding with a thunderous crack that shook the foundation stones beneath them. Red against black. Resolve against fury. One stood as the dying bulwark of discipline and clarity; the other, a whirlwind of rage and primal hunger.
Elder Kong's blood manipulation, his final desperate gambit, had transformed the battlefield into a storm of crimson lances and whirling shields. Each droplet obeyed him like a soldier summoned by sacred oath, slicing through Han's attacks with uncanny precision. Yet with every command, every technique woven from his own life's essence, the toll grew more unbearable.
His face had turned ashen, eyes dimming beneath the weight of unrelenting fatigue. Veins once rich with vitality now pulsed sluggishly, drained of their sustaining tide. His heartbeat pounded erratically, a war drum on the verge of silence. The taste of copper filled his mouth, thick and metallic, as another thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his lips.
He stood steadfast against his adversary, until he couldn't.
Without warning, his legs buckled beneath him, crumpling like brittle wood under strain. His knees struck the blood-slicked floor with a sickening thud. His arms trembled, unable to bear even his own weight. The swirling blades of blood faltered midair, then collapsed lifelessly in wet slaps upon the stone.
His breath came in ragged gasps, shallow and rattling, as if the air itself was too heavy to inhale. His limbs felt leaden, muscles numb and unresponsive, his body no longer a vessel of cultivated strength but a husk barely clinging to life.
Across the chamber, Han Long stood panting, blood smeared in dark streaks across his arms and face—some his, but much of it not. His robe hung in tatters, soaked through with sweat and gore.
With deliberate precision, Han raised one arm, slow and ceremonial, as if honoring the moment of execution. Bestial Qi surged to life along his clawed fingers, lighting them with a primal, snarling energy that snarled and crackled like caged lightning. The power twisted violently around his hand, forming a jagged corona of shadow and fang.
He stepped forward with slow, thunderous strides that echoed through the chamber like a final tolling bell. His shadow loomed over Elder Kong's fallen form.
Then, with eyes glinting like a predator about to strike, he lifted his hand high and aimed it at Elder Kong.