A lonely grave, a solitary gravestone, the setting sun in the western wind.
Tall grass rose and fell like mottled waves, surging freely across the wilderness.
The scattered trees swayed with a hoarse rustle. Yellow leaves drifted away on the wind, and in the biting chill, several crows perched among the branches beat their wings and cried out in monotonous, grating voices: "Caw... caw... caw-caw-caw..."
Pei Ling stood alone before the gravestone, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes closed and silent. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked toward a certain spot behind him.
A moment later, he beckoned, and more than a dozen corpses were drawn through the air toward him.
The moment the corpses hit the ground, their blood, still warm and unclotted, gushed out and quickly seeped into the graveyard.
Pei Ling immediately felt his cultivation begin to recover once more.
Only, it recovered very, very little.
He had already been at the peak of Qi Refining, and he was still at the peak of Qi Refining.
Seeing this, Pei Ling immediately understood that blood restored the least cultivation.
Fear restored much more than blood. And from what he could tell, hatred restored the most.
"Indeed, killing is the simplest way. But if all you do is kill, you aren't the player—you're the piece..."
"Fear is a little better than killing, but it only works on the weak. Truly powerful people may feel fear from time to time, but they won't lose their heads over it. Just like at the First Gate, neither I, the Crimson Powder Bride, nor 'Yu' would stop moving forward out of fear."
"But hatred is different. Hatred taken to the extreme can cloud the minds of the powerful and make them do your bidding. That's what makes a player!"
"And the