The red mist curled around the swamp like coiling serpents, silent and watching. Mo Yuan stood at the heart of it, one foot slightly forward, his fingers tingling with surging blood qi. His eyes, once dull and lifeless, now glimmered with a restrained hunger—faintly red, like smoldering embers waiting for wind.
Across the muddy clearing, two familiar figures emerged from the fog.
The first was tall, broad-shouldered, his face marked with old acne scars and a constant sneer. The second was shorter, skinnier, with narrow eyes that flickered with cruelty. Their servant robes bore the faint insignia of the Blood Vein Clan, just like the rags clinging to Mo Yuan's body.
"See?" the tall one snorted. "Didn't I say he was too ugly to die properly?"
The thin one let out a dry laugh. "That useless dog really crawled back out of hell. Guess we'll have to beat him back down."
Mo Yuan recognized them instantly. They weren't just any servants—they were the ones who had beaten this body to death. He still remembered the broken memories that came with this flesh.
When the original owner had been punished, these two had eagerly volunteered to "teach him a lesson." After all, they are mortal servants and far beneath him, who was in the the First Stage of Foundation Establishment.
Mo Yuan said nothing.
The tall servant stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "You've got guts showing your face here. You should've stayed dead."
His companion drew a short blade from his waist, its edge chipped and rusted. "Let's not waste time. We will get rid of him properly this time.
They didn't recognize the man in front of them.
The weak-willed, half-dead boy from before was gone. What stood before them now was Mo Yuan—who had once crossed the Sea of Calamity, who had shattered a mountain with his bare hands, who had smiled as kingdoms crumbled around him.
He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to some distant rhythm.
"You're right," he said calmly. "Let's not waste time."
Before the servants could notice something amiss, he moved.
His blood qi surged with a sharp pulse. It wasn't refined or elegant—it was raw, primal, unrestrained. The Blood Root Sutra had begun its work, and though his cultivation base was still weak, his instincts and killing intent were sharper than blades.
The tall servant didn't even see the first strike. Mo Yuan's foot landed squarely on his chest with a crunching sound. The man flew back, crashing into a tree and vomiting blood.
The thin one lunged forward with the knife, but Mo Yuan shifted his weight and dodged with minimal motion. He grabbed the man's wrist and twisted.
Snap.
The knife fell to the ground, followed by a scream.
"You… How can you still have any strength left?!" the thin servant shrieked.
Mo Yuan didn't answer. He didn't need to.
With one palm strike, he sent the man sprawling. Blood gushed from the servant's nose and mouth as he writhed on the ground.
But Mo Yuan's eyes didn't carry joy or fury. Only silence.
He stepped forward, the Heaven Devouring Forbidden Scripture already unfurled within his soul.
The scroll did not appear physically. It didn't need to. When he activated its first page, a faint ripple spread across the swamp.
Invisible threads of devouring energy wrapped around the two fallen men. Their struggling grew frantic.
"N-no! Please—!"
"Stop! We were just following orders!"
Mo Yuan crouched beside the tall servant, placing a finger on his forehead.
"Then follow this one too," he whispered.
Their bodies convulsed.
A red mist seeped from their skin, drawn into Mo Yuan's palm. It wasn't just blood—it was essence, marrow, a trace of soul. The Heaven Devouring Forbidden Scripture didn't just consume. It dissected.
Moments later, their bodies went limp. Still intact, but utterly hollow.
Mo Yuan stood slowly. His breath was steady. The blood qi within him had grown stronger—thicker, more vibrant. His meridians, already reshaped by the Blood Root Sutra, drank in the stolen vitality like a starving beast.
This was how he would climb back up. Not with luck. Not with kindness.
But through force, through precision, through control.
The red mist around him pulsed, as if reacting to the devouring act.
Mo Yuan raised his hand and stared at it. His skin was still pale, his fingers still thin—but they no longer shook. The old weakness had faded, bit by bit.
"This is only the beginning."
The chain ring in his dantian flickered. The first link had been formed, barely holding together. But now, with this nourishment, he could attempt the second.
He sat again, crossing his legs on the muddy ground, uncaring of the filth.
Closing his eyes, he focused inward. His dantian felt like a forge, unstable but eager.
With delicate control, he guided his blood qi, weaving it into the next chain.
One mistake, and it would collapse.
His breathing slowed. His heartbeat echoed like a drum.
Outside, the swamp stirred again. A tremor passed through the air. Someone strong had come.
Mo Yuan's eyes snapped open.
Through the veil of mist, a figure stepped forward. Clad in dark crimson robes, face obscured by a half-mask of black iron, he walked with the calm arrogance of someone who had the authority to kill with a glance.
A Blood Vein Clan Warden.
Behind him, four more figures moved—subdued, but unmistakably cultivators at initial foundation establishment realm.
So they'd come already.
Mo Yuan rose to his feet without haste. The red mist around him stirred again, swirling tighter, as if echoing his bloodthirst.
The second chain in his dantian remained half-formed, vibrating faintly with restrained energy. He couldn't afford to complete it now.
Not with company arriving.
The Warden stopped just at the edge of the clearing. Though the mask hid his face, Mo Yuan could sense the caution in his stance.
The corpses at his feet.
Mo Yuan's lips curled up slightly.
But before a single word could pass between them, the Warden lifted one hand—and the figures behind him spread out, forming a loose semi-circle.
Their eyes held no mercy.
And Mo Yuan… did not step back. He had already thought about how to deal with this predicament he had fallen into, even though he had stabilized his cultivation, his weakness gone, he is still not strong enough to deal with several foundation establishment realm cultivator at the same time. Moreover, he could sense that the warden is in the intermediate foundation establishment realm.
When he killed those two servants, he had already accounted for the possibility that someone might notice the noise. But this warden...
This warden was the only unknown variable.
After all, he shouldn't have been anywhere near this part of the swamp at this hour. By all logic, the patrol routes were clear, the shifts predictable. Mo Yuan had even timed his ambush to avoid such interruptions.
And yet, here he was.
Mo Yuan suddenly grinned. So be it. It'll be fun.