By the time the moon hung high in the sky, several people had already gathered in Chi Lianxue's large house. They were the ones among Dabai Village's survivors who had embarked upon the path of immortality.
Yet they had not gathered to receive teachings or cultivate.
Tie Zhu placed a small bowl before each person. Finally, he took a bowl himself and walked to the far side.
Then, Tie Zhu drew a dagger from his waist and slashed hard across the tip of his left middle finger. With a push of spiritual power, he forced a jet of blood out through the wound.
After dripping roughly a hundred milliliters, Tie Zhu withdrew his spiritual power, clenched the wound tight, and passed the knife to the person on his right.
The second person had not entered the Qi Refining stage and could not use spiritual power. He could only lightly slice his wrist, cutting a wound about an inch long. He lowered his wrist and let the blood flow naturally into the bowl. Once it had collected roughly a hundred milliliters, he began bandaging the wound as well.
The third person took the dagger, lightly cut his hand, and let his blood drip into the small bowl.
Everyone looked perfectly calm, as though what they were doing was the most ordinary thing in the world. Their movements were swift and precise, as though they had done this countless times before. By the time the last person had offered a hundred milliliters of blood, only a quarter of an hour had passed. An eerie atmosphere filled the entire house.
While they drew blood, Chi Lianxue looked tense. Only after the last person had finished did his expression ease. "You've worked hard."
Drawing a hundred milliliters of blood every ten days might have