Blood Drinker Black Robe Sees True Strength

The small, dark box opened, and the drop of crimson essence blood flowed with an eerie luster under the dim oil lamp. Wang Quan swallowed it without hesitation, tilting his head back.

The moment the essence blood entered his throat, it felt like swallowing a red-hot iron ball. Intense pain shot from his throat straight to his Dantian, then transformed into a raging fire that swept through his limbs and bones. Wang Quan grunted, his skin flushing an abnormal crimson, veins bulging, and the whites of his eyes rapidly streaked with blood.

"Activate Echo... trace this blood's memory..." he roared in his heart.

[Command confirmed. Skill Points consumed: 30. Remaining: 160.]

[Echo activated... using essence blood as a guide to trace its origin... Warning! The obsession and fragmented memories contained within this essence blood are too complex. Forced fusion carries the risk of getting lost...]

Wang Quan could no longer heed the system's warning. Amidst the pain and burning sensation, he felt himself being pulled into a bloody vortex.

Illusion · Torrent of Shattered Memories

Act 1: The City Falls

A biting wind carried the smell of burnt blood into his nostrils. An old man was curled up in a collapsed kitchen, tightly clutching his three-year-old grandson. Outside, the roars of Demonic Creatures and the screams of his own people tore through the night sky. He desperately covered the child's ears, while the smell of blood choked him, causing him to cough up bloody foam. A crisp sound of metal breaking echoed from the alley entrance. An old man, with his last ounce of strength, was smashing an anvil onto the head of a Wolf Demon crawling into the courtyard. Sparks flew onto his white beard. "Protect... the child..." he mumbled, his body collapsing heavily. The anvil rolled into a pool of blood, merging with the crimson stream spreading through the alley. He stood on the broken city wall, clad in a black battle robe embroidered with dark gold demon-slaying patterns, now soaked in dark red blood. Outside the city lay a vast, dark army of Demonic Creatures, their banners emblazoned with ferocious skulls. Inside, fires raged, the cries of civilians mingling with the roars of the Demonic Creatures. "General! The Eastern Gate defenders are all wiped out!"

"Black Robe Guard casualties exceed half!"

"The civilians... the civilians are still in the city!"

His sword-wielding hand trembled. This was not his city. By the time he was ordered to reinforce it, more than half of it had already fallen. Three thousand Black Robe Guards charged into the city, this special unit whose mission was to slay monsters and eliminate demons, now only fighting to rescue as many living people as possible from the demonic blades.

"Form the Xuan Tian Demon Slaying Formation! Break through to the West Gate!" he commanded hoarsely, pointing his sword tip at the densest concentration of Demonic Creatures. "Black Robe Guards, heed my order: Use yourselves as shields, protect the people as they escape the city!"

"General, you cannot—"

"Execute the military order!"

That night, eight hundred Black Robe Guards fought to the death covering the retreat. He watched as young faces were torn to shreds under the claws of Demonic Creatures, watched them use their black robes as conduits, detonating the demon-slaying true qi within their bodies to perish with the Demonic Creatures, their last breaths a roar: "Go! Take the civilians and go!" When the last Black Robe Guard was torn apart by three Wolf Demons, he severed their heads and collapsed, exhausted. Blood blurred his vision; all he remembered were those black robes soaked in blood.

Act 2: The Cage

Footsteps echoed outside the dungeon. Several purple-robed figures entered, led by a scholar with a gaunt face and unfathomable eyes.

"General Chen," the scholar's voice was as cold as it was gentle, "Linyuan City... what a pity."

The scholar walked slowly forward, his fingertip lightly tracing the bloodstains on the shackles. "Does General know that the 'Xuan' in Black Robe Guard has another meaning in ancient language?"

Chen Qingzhi's pupils constricted.

"'Xuan' means profound and unfathomable," the scholar chuckled lightly. "Just like your northern expedition this time... conquering fifty-two cities is indeed a brilliant military achievement. But some people are thinking, isn't this merit... a bit too much?"

He suddenly leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "His Majesty is advanced in years, and the Crown Prince has not been established. Which prince do you think... is most capable of inheriting the throne?"

Chen Qingzhi's body trembled. These words, seemingly casual conversation, were a stab to the heart!

The scholar straightened up and took a fragment of a secret letter from his sleeve. It was a memorial Chen Qingzhi had previously submitted reporting military intelligence, but the crucial parts had been altered beyond recognition.

"General, please look. The ink color for these four characters, 'requesting reinforcements,' seems... a little different?"

The scholar's fingertip lightly brushed over the handwriting. "If this were to reach the imperial court, how many people would think General... is harboring ambition for power?"

Act 3: Demon Slaying

The memory scene jumped. This time, he stood on the battlements of a lonely city. Below lay an endless army of Demonic Creatures, their banners obscuring the sun. From within the city, children's crying children's songs could be heard:

"Black Robe warriors, guard the city walls, swords are blind, lives will fall.

Imperial decree, urging grain and pay, no reinforcements, only disaster's way.

Mother cries for child, child calls for mother, bones piled high by the moat.

Golden Mausoleum Palace, busy with rewards, who remembers the northern blood and tears so cold."

These children's songs were like knives, piercing the heart with every word. Chen Qingzhi closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, only determination remained in his gaze.

"General, reinforcements... aren't coming, are they?" the deputy general's voice was very soft.

Chen Qingzhi did not answer. He looked at a newly intercepted secret report in his hand, from the rear, bearing the seal of the Zhongshu Province. Its contents impeached him for hoarding troops and delaying the war effort, suggesting the Emperor should quickly recall him to the capital and send a capable general in his place.

A capable general? Where could another capable general be found? Thirty-six prefectures, more than half already fallen. The court was embroiled in factional strife, the princes busy courting the powerful, who still remembered this lonely city abandoned amidst the demonic encirclement?

"General!" a messenger stumbled onto the battlements, his face covered in blood. "The Southern Gate... the Southern Gate commander Wang Huan has opened the city and surrendered to the enemy!"

A thunderous cheer erupted from below the city. The demonic army began to surge towards the Southern Gate.

Chen Qingzhi closed his eyes. Wang Huan, a subordinate who had followed him for twelve years. His elderly mother was gravely ill at home, and he had repeatedly requested leave to visit the capital but was always delayed by military duties. Three days ago, Wang Huan received a letter from home: his mother had passed away.

When he opened his eyes again, there was no sadness or joy within them.

Can't find the book title, try searching for the author, maybe the name has changed!

"Give the order," his voice was terrifyingly calm. "Abandon the outer city, retreat all forces to the inner city. Set fire to all granaries, armories... what we cannot take, we will not leave for the Demonic Creatures."

"General! What about the civilians—"

"Those willing to leave, evacuate through the secret passage at the West Gate. Those unwilling..." he paused, "issue them weapons."

That night, Linyuan City became a sea of fire.

"Black Robe blood soaks the moon over mountains and passes, ten thousand banners turn to ash.

On the Golden Mausoleum Palace's merit roster, no mention of frozen bones wrapped in hide."

Act 4: The Truth

He woke again by a swift-flowing river. Countless bones in his body were broken, his Dantian shattered, his cultivation lost. He was saved by a silent fisherman and his wife, who had heterochromatic eyes.

The fisherman brewed medicine for him every day, without speaking, only occasionally staring blankly to the south. It wasn't until three months later, when he could get out of bed, that the fisherman, emboldened by alcohol one night, said with red eyes, "Back then... Tianyuan Pass... I was the one who opened the gates."

Chen Qingzhi's hand, holding the medicine bowl, trembled.

"They used my mother's life to threaten me... said if I opened the city, they'd let her go," the fisherman, once the Prince of Yuzhang, now an atoner, gave a bitter laugh. "I opened the gates, and they fed my mother to the Demonic Creatures right in front of me."

"Then why did you..."

"Why am I still alive?" The Prince of Yuzhang tilted his head and downed a mouthful of strong liquor. "Because when I wanted to die, I met her." He looked at his wife, busy by the stove. The woman turned, smiling gently at him.

"She's a princess from the Northern Monster Kingdom, who escaped," the Prince of Yuzhang said in a low voice. "She said her people were also at war, brother against brother, more brutal than the war between humans and Demonic Creatures. She said there are ordinary people everywhere who just want to live."

Chen Qingzhi remained silent for a long time.

The day he left, the Prince of Yuzhang saw him off at the village entrance and suddenly asked, "General Chen, do you think... someone like me is still worthy of returning south?"

Chen Qingzhi did not answer. He walked south, limping with a crutch made of a tree branch. Behind him, the Prince of Yuzhang's hoarse singing could be heard, another folk song popular in the north:

"Border moon shines on iron armor, Every home awaits their sons' return. Young men's blood stains the battle flag, Ten thousand bones turn to ash for success."

"Golden Mausoleum Palace holds a victory feast, Who sees the lonely souls flying night after night?"

He walked for seven months. Finally, he reached the riverbank. On the southern bank, banners fluttered, and the Emperor himself led civil and military officials to greet him at the ferry crossing.

He knelt in the mud, his voice so hoarse it was barely audible. "Your subject... failed in the Northern Expedition, Linyuan fell, the Black Robe Guard was annihilated... I beg Your Majesty to punish me."

The Emperor strode down from his carriage, personally helping him up. Tears welled in his eyes, yet he raised his head and announced loudly towards the north bank, "What crime has Ziyun committed!"

The river wind blew up the dragon banner behind the Emperor, and also scattered the white hairs at the temples of Chen Qingzhi. Soldiers on both banks cheered in unison, their voices shaking the heavens:

"Black Robe blood soaks the mountain pass moon, Ten thousand banners have all turned to ash!"

"A marquis's seal before the Golden Mausoleum, Who remembers the return of the cold bones!"

He slowly raised his head, looking at the civil and military officials in purple robes and jade belts behind the Emperor, looking at the imperial guards in gleaming armor on both sides of the riverbank, his gaze passing over them to the distance—those ragged Northern refugees huddled behind the crowd, those faces that had lost husbands, sons, and fathers.

Suddenly, an old voice rose from among the refugees, hoarsely singing the northern folk song. The voice started low, gradually merging into a suppressed whimper:

"The moon shines on cold iron armor, The wind blows the fragrance of battle bones."

"Success brings high titles, Who asks about the man who buries the bones?"

As this song began, the riverbank fell silent. The Emperor's expression changed imperceptibly. Some civil and military officials frowned, others lowered their eyes.

Listening to the song, Chen Qingzhi slowly closed his eyes, then slowly opened them again. He did not look at the Emperor, nor at the officials, but gazed towards the north bank, and in a voice only those near him could hear, he softly completed the latter half of the verse:

"The man who buries the bones, the man who buries the bones, year after year, gazing at his homeland."

"Homeland is far, homeland is forgotten, busy celebrating at the Golden Mausoleum Palace."

[Echo ends. Successfully comprehended special artistic conception: See Strength!]

Wang Quan's eyes snapped open, sweat soaking his entire body. He panted violently, as if he had personally experienced the fall of the city, the betrayal, the desperate defense, the burning of the city, the exile...

This was not a simple transfer of memories; it was an imprint of another person's entire life of joy and sorrow, love and hate, despair and perseverance, hammered into the depths of his soul.

He looked down at his hands, his palms seemingly still bearing the scabs of gripping a sword, his nostrils seemingly still filled with the acrid smoke of the great fire at Linyuan City.

"Chen Qingzhi..."

"Strength rises from the earth, the blade is born from the heart. Without seeing the demonic blood stain the rivers and mountains, how can one see the feelings of the common people!" Wang Quan muttered, his eyes complex.

At this moment, the Turtle Snake Coiling Dragon Strength within his body was circulating in an unprecedented way, no longer merely transporting qi and blood, but seeming to resonate with the earth beneath his feet, the air around him, and some grander force in the unseen.

The barrier of the Mortal Transformation Realm was now within sight.

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