Demonic Blood Backlash, Hantian Transforms into a Demonic Puppet

The chime of bells swept through the mansion, its echoes still lingering. I stood at the edge of the training ground, the warm texture of the wooden sword still on my fingertips. The tear in my sleeve was blown open by the wind, sunlight slanting onto my skin, revealing a fleeting, extremely fine golden line.

I didn't return to my room.

My steps shifted lightly, following the shadows of the corridor along the wall. Ji Hantian had been dragged towards the west wing of the side courtyard, a place where errant deacons were once confined, now his temporary dwelling. A faint, fishy smell drifted on the wind, not of blood, but of some rotten herb mixed with the scent of rust, slowly seeping from the cracks in the window.

I stopped outside the window, peering through the torn paper.

He was curled up on the bed, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles, as if forcibly bent and thrown there. Veins bulged on his forehead, his lips were purple, and broken hisses emanated from his throat: "...Kill him...tear his bones...drain his marrow..." The voice rose and fell, sometimes like his own, sometimes like someone else speaking through his mouth.

His left arm was exposed, black lines wriggling beneath the skin like live worms burrowing through flesh. With every movement, his veins bulged a little more, the surface skin began to crack, oozing a dark red mucus. This was no ordinary wound festering; something was consuming his body from within.

The demonic blood had begun to convert its host.

If another half hour passed, he would completely lose his mind and become a puppet obeying only the controller of the blood source—even if that blood was originally his own.

I closed my eyes, my thoughts sinking into my body.

The Heaven-Slaying Origin flowed quietly. After the nine Remnant Dao Crystals returned to their places, they had been growing imperceptibly every day. Now, with the crisis approaching, their flow rate had slightly increased, but it hadn't triggered any extra feedback from the System. I knew this wasn't a life-or-death moment, merely a state of "danger approaching," enough for me to use a wisp of the Origin without revealing its full extent.

My fingertips twitched, a stream of pale golden light condensing in my palm, holding its form like mist.

The window broke silently.

I stepped into the room, my toes barely touching the ground, my body moving without pause. He suddenly convulsed violently, his head snapping towards me, his eyes rolling back, pupils shrinking to pinpricks. A puff of black mist erupted from his mouth.

The mist struck my sleeve and dissipated with a "hiss," like fire meeting water.

I took a step forward, my right hand shooting out, my index finger pointing directly at his glabella.

The golden light sank in for a moment. His entire body shook, and he let out a muffled groan before slumping down, his breathing gradually slowing. The black lines wriggling beneath his skin froze, as if trapped within his blood vessels.

Silence fell in the room.

Only his heavy breaths and the wind whistling through the leaky roof remained.

I withdrew my hand, flicking my sleeve to extinguish a wisp of black energy lingering on the ground. This stuff was contagious; if the Elders detected it, they would surely investigate the source. And if they discovered I had intervened, it would inevitably lead to more questions.

The door hinges creaked.

I didn't turn around, but I sensed a familiar presence standing outside the door.

Ye Qingwan stood there, her moon-white dress fluttering slightly in the night wind, her eyes glowing with a faint golden light, clearly using the sensory power of her Blood Phoenix Body. Her gaze swept over Ji Hantian, who was asleep on the bed, then fell upon the lingering golden light on my hand.

"You can control demonic blood?" she asked, her voice not loud, but each word clear. "This isn't immortal magic, nor demonic cultivation... What are you using?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I stepped aside, blocking her from behind me.

The air in the room rippled slightly. A wisp of black smoke slowly seeped from Ji Hantian's nostrils, twisting like a snake, lunging straight for our faces. I raised my hand and waved my sleeve. The Pseudo-Primordial Body reacted instinctively, a very thin halo spreading out. The black smoke hit the barrier and was instantly annihilated.

Her pupils contracted slightly.

"If you want to save him, you have to trust me," I said.

Before I finished speaking, I wrapped my left arm around her waist, my toes lightly touching the ground, and leaped up. The roof tiles vibrated slightly beneath my feet. We soared into the air, breaking through the roof and landing on the edge.

The night wind hit us.

The courtyard below was silent, only a wisp of black smoke rising from the roof of the side courtyard, quickly dispersed by the wind. Distant lights were sparse; the guards hadn't yet noticed anything unusual.

I released her, but didn't step back, remaining between her and the roof ridge, blocking any potential backlash from the room.

She stood still, looking up at me, her eyes sharp. "That golden light just now came from you. Can you absorb the power of demonic blood? Or... did you know he would backlash?"

I looked down at her.

The tips of her hair were tinged with a hint of red, almost invisible in the moonlight, only noticeable when close. This was a trace of her Blood Phoenix Body awakening, and the secret she had hidden for years.

And now, she was staring at me, trying to uncover another, deeper mystery.

"People who are too curious tend to die young," I said.

She let out a cold laugh. "Then why did you pull me up just now? If you had left me in the room to be corrupted by that black energy, wouldn't that have shut me up nicely?"

I was silent for a moment.

"Because you can still save people," I said. "Not anymore."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

I raised my hand and pointed towards the depths of the side courtyard. In the corner of a small room, an oil lamp flickered. That was where the medicine boy was on duty, usually with an alchemist on rotation to look after the critically ill. But now, the lamplight flickered, yet no one entered or exited.

"He's not just poisoned anymore," I said. "The demonic blood has penetrated his Sea of Consciousness, polluting his Divine Soul. Ordinary elixirs can't cure it; forcefully expelling it would cause him to die on the spot. If you go in now, you'll only watch him die."

She bit her lip, a flash of anger in her eyes. "So you took it upon yourself? Intervened with that kind of power? Do you even know what that is? That's not the spiritual power system of this world at all!"

I smiled.

"Do you think this world truly only has the cultivation paths you know of?"

She froze.

Before I could speak, a muffled thud suddenly came from inside the room.

It sounded like someone hitting the wall heavily.

She and I turned our heads simultaneously.

The window of the west wing of the side courtyard suddenly exploded, wooden frames flying everywhere. A thick plume of black energy surged skyward, circled in the air, and condensed into a blurred face. It opened its mouth and let out a roar before transforming into countless fine threads that burrowed into the gaps between the roof tiles and vanished.

Silence returned to the room.

But I knew it wasn't over.

The Demonic Blood had been suppressed, but not eradicated. It had already resonated with Ji Hantian's Divine Soul. Even if it fell dormant for now, it would awaken again at some point—especially during moments of intense emotional fluctuation or when stimulated by Spiritual Power.

And this body was no longer an ordinary mortal one.

Ye Qingwan stared at the shattered window, her voice turning cold. "He's not completely dead yet."

"Mmm," I replied.

"You'll pay for this," she said, looking at me. "No matter who you are or what you've done, if you interfere with a mutation of this magnitude, the Elders won't let you go."

"What they fear more right now is him turning into a Demonic Puppet," I said. "As long as he's lying there motionless, no one will investigate who did this."

She stared at me for a long time, then suddenly asked, "What exactly do you want to do?"

I didn't answer.

Footsteps could be heard in the distance; the night guards were changing shifts. We had to leave.

I turned, about to leap off the roof, when she suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist.

Her touch was light, yet held an unyielding strength.

"Don't take me away again next time," she said. "When I want to know, I'll appear where you're trying to hide."

I glanced at her.

Her fingers trembled slightly, not from fear, but from suppressing some impulse—perhaps anger, perhaps something else.

I didn't shake off her hand. I gently moved it aside, then bent down, pushed off with my toes, and landed on the eaves.

She stood there, neither following nor retreating.

I looked back one last time.

She stood at the boundary of moonlight and shadow, one hand still hovering in the air, as if unsure whether to let it drop.

I leaped forward, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

As I landed, I heard her murmur something softly.

I didn't hear it clearly.

But I knew some things could no longer be hidden.

The wind whistled past my ears, stirring a fallen leaf that spun down into the well of the side courtyard.

The well water was deep, reflecting half a moon.

And at the very bottom of the well, a black line slowly writhed, climbing up the stone wall.