Stone Country, Imperial Capital, Martial King Manor
"Yi'er, don't be afraid. Mother is right here."
Her soothing words echoed, but Shi Yi could only sigh in resignation.
Pinching his nose, covering his mouth, and squeezing his eyes shut, he braced himself and leapt into the cauldron.
Plop.
It felt like plunging into molten lava. An indescribable agony surged through every inch of his body, as if his flesh were being torn apart piece by piece. The pain was beyond anything he'd endured in the usual medicinal baths—suffering piled upon suffering.
I can't handle this.
Shi Yi's heart wasn't forged in this world. He lacked the unyielding will of its natives. He was just an ordinary man from an ordinary world, not some soul who'd hijacked a body mid-journey, devouring the original owner to claim their life.
No, Shi Yi's consciousness had awakened in the womb. He'd grown up here, shaped by the hands of Shi Hao's mother—his own mother—who had crafted a vessel capable of housing his soul.
As long as he kept silent, no one could prove he was a transmigrator. Not even the river of time could unravel his secret. He was, by all accounts, a native of this world.
But just recently, at the age of six, something had shifted. Memories—fragments of his past life—had surfaced, as if a seal deep within his soul had cracked open. Those memories, carried across endless time and space after a nuclear blast had obliterated his world, now mingled with his present.
In the end, I am Shi Yi, and Shi Yi is me. Body and soul, all mine.
"Argh, it hurts! It's too much!"
The chaotic thoughts flickering through his mind briefly dulled the torment, but the reprieve was fleeting. The resentful will within the true blood of the ferocious beasts took form, invading his soul sea.
In the azure expanse of his soul sea, Shi Yi sat cross-legged, eyes closed, at its center. Around him prowled the spectral forms of pureblood beasts, their eyes gleaming with savage intent, ready to shred his soul. Their aura was brutal, their gazes merciless, each one a vessel of the beasts' dying hatred.
To absorb their true blood, one needed more than courage—you had to have the ability.
___
Martial King Manor, A Quiet Chamber
In an elegant room, several white-haired elders of the Shi Clan sat together, their voices low but tense.
"Old Thirteen, do you really think Yi'er can withstand the resentment in the pureblood true blood?" one elder asked, his brow furrowed.
"Of course he can," Old Thirteen replied confidently. "Yi'er is the reincarnation of an ancient saint, blessed with the legendary chongtong. What's the resentment of mere beast blood compared to that?"
Old Thirteen's faith in Shi Yi was unshakable, but another elder wasn't convinced.
"Old Thirteen, let me remind you," he said sharply. "We used descendant beast blood for Hao'er, but pureblood for Yi'er. You know the gap between purebloods and descendants—descendants are mongrels, unfit to compare with purebloods. Yi'er's facing the resentment of pureblood true blood, born from the essence of creatures far beyond Hao'er's bath. That's not a small matter."
"Pureblood or not, can it rival a chongtong bearer?" Old Thirteen scoffed.
"This isn't about rivalry!" the elder snapped. "Yi'er is only six. Have you considered whether he can endure this? And another thing—these pureblood true blood reserves are the last in our Martial King Manor. Not a single jar for Hao'er?"
"Hao'er's talent is ordinary. How can he compare to Yi'er?" Old Thirteen said coldly. "Yi'er is the future of the Martial King Manor. Every resource must be poured into him."
As the elders bickered, a new figure entered—a white-haired man with an imposing presence. This was the Martial King, a rare Venerable Realm expert. A contemporary of the Stone Emperor, he had once vied for the throne of Stone Country's Human Emperor. Though he lost, his valor earned him the title of Martial King, granting him access to the nation's resources and the faith of its people.
"No need to fret," the Martial King said, stroking his white beard. "If anything goes wrong, I'll intervene. Yi'er is our hope. I won't let him come to harm."
Old Ninth, who had been advocating for Shi Hao, nodded in satisfaction. "Since Old Eighth has spoken, I have no objections." He'd been waiting for the Martial King's assurance. Though he'd voiced concern for Shi Hao, his true worry was whether Shi Yi could withstand the overwhelming resentment in the pureblood true blood.
It's worth noting that "Old Ninth" didn't refer to his strength but his rank among the clan's elders. In the Martial King Manor, the older generation once numbered fifteen brothers, all sired by the same father, though born to different mothers. Now, only five remained: Old Eighth (the Martial King), Old Ninth, Old Eleventh, Old Thirteenth, and the youngest, Old Fifteenth.
The others had either perished young or fallen to ferocious beasts. Now, white-haired and nearing the end of their lives, the elders' focus was the manor's legacy—and Shi Yi was their chosen heir.
"Three years," Old Thirteenth said suddenly. "Old Fifteenth has been gone for three years. Where could he be?"
Old Fifteenth was Shi Hao's grandfather, Shi Zhongtian, also known as the Great Demon God. His strength surpassed even the Martial King's.
"Old Fifteenth is stubborn and unyielding," Old Ninth explained. "When he learned Yi'er had chongtong while his grandson Hao'er did not, he ventured alone into the blood-soaked Hundred Clan Battlefield. He's determined to secure a pureblood beast cub for Hao'er, to use its true blood for his baptism."
"You lot are to blame," Old Eleventh interjected, his tone icy. "If you hadn't given all the pureblood true blood to Yi'er, would Old Fifteenth have needed to take such a risk?"
Unlike Old Eighth, Ninth, and Thirteenth, who favored Shi Yi, Old Eleventh was closest to Old Fifteenth and leaned toward supporting Shi Hao.
"I made the decision," the Martial King said calmly. "If you want to blame someone, Old Eleventh, blame me."
"Blaming you now is pointless," Old Eleventh muttered, displeased. "Old Fifteenth is gone. I just hope he returns safely. As for Hao'er's lack of pureblood beast true blood, we'll find another way."
"No need to worry," Old Ninth said, playing peacemaker. "Shi Ziling and his wife are already searching for Old Fifteenth. Once they find him, we can negotiate with the Stone Emperor to borrow some pureblood true blood for Hao'er's baptism."
He added a caveat: "But it must not conflict with Yi'er's interests. The chongtong bearer is the manor's future."
Old Thirteenth chimed in, "Old Eleventh, relax. Ziling and Ziteng are cousins, and Hao'er calls Yi'er gege. We're all family."
Indeed, Shi Ziling and Shi Ziteng, the fathers of Shi Hao and Shi Yi, were close. Otherwise, Shi Ziling and his wife wouldn't have entrusted their three-year-old son to Shi Ziteng's care while they searched for Old Fifteenth.
Family or not, the manor's priorities are clear, Old Eleventh thought, but he held his tongue, his concern for Shi Hao lingering.