The loft smelled worse now.
Blood had a way of changing a room. At first it was just sharp and metallic, almost clean. Then it thickened—warm at the start, sticky soon after, finally turning sour and heavy as it soaked into the floorboards and the sawdust scattered beneath the hanging meat. Mo Chen lay on his back between two corpses, chest rising and falling in shallow, careful pulls. Every breath tugged at the gash on his left forearm. The wound had mostly stopped bleeding, but opening and closing his fist still sent fresh red threads trickling down to his elbow.
He didn't move yet.
He was waiting for the system to speak again.
And then it finally did...
*Ding!*
*Three mortal-grade cores detected within range.*
*Quality assessment:*
*- Tempered Body Realm, 5th stage (deceased)*
*- Tempered Body Realm, 4th stage (deceased)*
*- Tempered Body Realm, 6th stage (deceased – core damaged during extraction struggle)*
*Devour cost: None (first-time bonus active).*
*Warning: Simultaneous absorption of multiple cores may cause meridian shock in an unawakened body.*
*Recommended course: Sequential absorption. Begin with highest intact core? [Yes/No]*
Mo Chen's cracked lips pulled into something that might have been called a smile if there'd been anyone alive to see it.
"Yes," he croaked.
Nothing happened for a heartbeat.
Then heat—sudden, vicious—exploded in the center of his chest.
*Shrr!*
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't a warm current flowing through meridians like the poets described. It felt like someone had reached inside him, grabbed a fistful of his insides, and lit them on fire. His back arched off the floorboards. A scream tried to claw its way out of his throat but emerged as a strangled wheeze. Black spots danced across his vision. His fingernails dug bloody crescents into his palms.
The pain lasted maybe ten seconds.
Ten seconds that felt like eternity.
Then it… changed.
The fire didn't go out. It settled. Deep down. Became something steady and low-burning, like coals under ash. His heartbeat slowed, but each thump carried more force. The gash on his forearm stopped weeping blood. The cracked ribs in his side creaked as bone began knitting—slowly, imperfectly, but moving. His vision sharpened. The dim loft seemed suddenly brighter; he could make out individual motes of dust floating through the lamplight, could smell copper tang of blood separate from the sour rot of old meat.
A new chime.
*Ding!*
*Absorption complete.*
*Current cultivation: Tempered Body Realm, 6th stage.*
*Physical enhancements:*
- Strength ×1.8
- Speed ×1.6
- Endurance ×2.1
- Pain tolerance +34% (temporary)
- Basic qi sense unlocked (faint)
*Status: Stable. No meridian rupture detected.*
*Remaining cores available: 2*
*Devour next? [Y/N]*
Mo Chen exhaled through his nose.
He sat up.
The motion should have hurt. It didn't, not really. The ribs still ached, but it was distant, like pain belonging to someone else. He looked down at his left arm. The gash was still there, ugly and deep, but the edges had already begun to pink over. He flexed his fingers. They moved without tremor.
He laughed shortly.
Then he crawled to the body of the disciple he'd hooked through the ribs first. The boy's eyes were still open, glassy, staring at nothing. Mo Chen didn't bother closing them. He simply pressed both palms flat against the corpse's chest, right over the sternum.
Nothing visible happened.
No glowing light. No dramatic extraction energy.
Just a faint tug—like pulling on a thread buried deep inside meat.
Then something gave.
A small, warm orb the size of a quail egg slid out through the skin without breaking it. It hovered an inch above the body, pulsing with dull silver light. The surface looked almost liquid, like mercury trapped in a soap bubble.
Mo Chen's mouth watered.
He snatched it.
The moment his fingers closed around the core, it melted—simply dissolved—into his palm. Heat raced up his arm, into his shoulder, down his spine. This time the pain was shorter, sharper, almost pleasant. Like biting into something too hot and too sweet at the same time.
*Ding!*
*Absorption complete.*
*Current cultivation: Tempered Body Realm, 7th stage(Due to extra weaker core absorption).*
*Physical enhancements updated:*
- Strength ×2.1
- Speed ×1.9
- Endurance ×2.4
- Pain tolerance +41% (temporary)
*Minor qi circulation established. Basic body tempering effects active.*
He felt it.
Not just numbers on the screen. Real sensation.
His skin felt tighter, denser. When he pressed a finger against his forearm, it resisted more than it used to—like poking leather instead of dough. His heartbeat sounded deeper in his own ears. And beneath it all, a faint current—thin as spider silk—moved through channels he hadn't known existed.
He looked at the last body.
The one whose skull he'd cracked against the floor, his skull was a bit visible.
The core was already half-exposed, cracked and leaking faint silver mist. Damaged, the system had said. Worth less.
Mo Chen didn't hesitate.
He pressed his palm to it.
Same tug. Same dissolution.
This time the heat came weaker, muddier. It spread through him like lukewarm broth instead of molten iron. When it settled, the chime was quieter, almost grudging.
*Ding!*
*Absorption complete.*
*Current cultivation: Tempered Body Realm, Weak 8th stage.*
*Physical enhancements updated:*
- Strength ×2.4
- Speed ×2.2
- Endurance ×2.7
- Pain tolerance +48% (temporary)
*Warning: Core quality suboptimal. Minor impurities detected. Recommend purification at next safe location.*
Mo Chen stood up slowly.
His torn robes hung off him like rags on a scarecrow, but the body underneath felt… different. Taller, somehow. Stronger. When he clenched his fist, the knuckles cracked like dry twigs.
He walked to the narrow window and looked down.
The alley was empty now. Rain still fell, but softer. The old woman's stall had closed; the awning was rolled up, the fire beneath the broth pot banked to embers. Somewhere farther off a night watchman's rattle clacked twice—warning that the hour of the rat was near.
Mo Chen leaned his forehead against the cool glass.
He was still filthy. Still bleeding. Still wearing the shredded remains of the man who'd once owned the Golden Lotus Pavilion.
But he wasn't mortal anymore.
Not quite.
He turned back to the room.
Three bodies. Three swords—cheap, but serviceable. A small money pouch on the leader's belt. A jade identity token stamped with the Clear Stream Sect's crane sigil. A half-eaten steamed bun wrapped in oil paper, already going stale.
He took everything.
The swords he buckled around his waist—two at his hips, one across his back. The pouch contained seventeen silver taels and a handful of coppers. Enough for food, a cheap inn room, maybe a set of clean clothes if he haggled.
The jade token he studied for a long moment.
Clear Stream Sect wasn't powerful. Not even mid-tier in Azurepeak City. But they had a small compound on the eastern edge of the outer district. Training grounds, low-grade spirit herb fields, a handful of outer disciples who thought they were wolves among sheep.
Mo Chen slipped the token into his torn sleeve.
He wouldn't go there tonight.
He wasn't stupid.
But he would remember the name.
And someday, maybe soon, they would learn exactly what happens when prey learns how to bite back.
He stepped over the bodies without looking down.
At the top of the stairs he paused.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle.
Mo Chen took one deep breath, cleaner air, sharper senses.
Then he started down.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the system was also hungry.
Just like him....
He whispered to the night as he reached the bottom step.
"Let's see how many hearts I can eat before the sun comes up."
The drizzle swallowed the words.
But the smile on his face stayed.