The seventy-third year since the founding of the Far West Alliance.
Little Moon Mountain.
Rear mountain.
Aaron was practicing his spells.
His hands formed seals, faint bloodlight flickering around his body. Then he lunged forward.
Riiip!
In an instant, he had shot several hundred zhang away. The speed, like a flash that tore through the air, made Aaron's eyes light up.
"This demonic Secret art—the Blood-Burning Escape Art—is indeed quite good!"
Aaron flickered repeatedly, his figure dreamlike and illusory, his escape technique peerless in speed.
After about the time it took to drink a cup of tea, he stopped practicing. An unnatural flush appeared on his face before turning pale.
"This escape art is good, but it consumes far too much blood essence and vital energy. Use it too often, and it will surely shorten one's lifespan... No wonder it's only classified as a life-saving Secret art!"
Aaron took a jade bottle from his storage pouch. After opening it, he poured out a blood-red pill and swallowed it.
After silently circulating his cultivation and regulating his breath for a moment, his complexion immediately improved considerably.
"Fortunately, I don't care about losing lifespan. As long as I make sure to take some pills that greatly replenish blood and qi... this Blood-Burning Escape Art can be used as a regular spell!"
Crimson Owl's foundational cultivation technique had long since been placed under a divine-sense restriction, leaving Aaron with no way to obtain it.
Even forcibly searching his soul had yielded only scattered, unsystematic fragments.
But this man had, after all, been a true disciple of the Black Demon Sect and had dabbled in quite a few demonic Secret arts. Some of them had been opportunities he acquired personally and were not protected by the restriction.
Thus, Aaron had still found some good