Chapter 116 - 83 : The Swarm That Fed the Beast (2)

Chapter 116: Chapter 83 : The Swarm That Fed the Beast (2)

Another cultivator rushed him.

Ethan stepped aside, letting the blade cut through the edge of his robe, then caught the man’s wrist before he could pull back. His fingers tightened as the cultivator struggled to wrench himself free.

"Let me go!"

Ethan looked at him without answering. The man’s blood was right there, close enough that Blood Perception made its presence impossible to ignore. He could feel the steady pulse of life beneath the man’s skin, the warmth moving through his veins, and something deep inside Ethan responded to it. It wasn’t the same as hunger for food. This was deeper, more instinctive. Something in his body recognized the living blood before his mind had fully accepted what it meant.

The cultivator struggled harder, then suddenly swung his weapon toward Ethan at close range, trying to cut him even while his wrist was trapped. Ethan reacted immediately, raising his free hand to knock the weapon aside. Steel scraped against his sleeve as the blade was deflected, and before the cultivator could recover, Ethan struck his weapon hand hard enough to make his fingers loosen. The weapon dropped onto the stone.

Only then did the cultivator realize how completely he had lost his advantage.

Ethan released his wrist, but before the man could retreat, his left hand shot forward and caught him by the neck. His fingers closed around the throat, and Ethan lifted him cleanly off the ground.

The cultivator’s body jerked as his feet left the stone. He immediately grabbed at Ethan’s wrist, trying desperately to pry it loose, his heart hammering in his chest as panic spread through him. The heat of his body seemed to rise with every frantic breath, but Ethan’s grip did not move.

Then Ethan looked into the man’s eyes.

The struggle faltered.

The cultivator had seen the bodies scattered across the valley. He had watched Ethan cut down the others, but something about the way Ethan was looking at him now filled him with a different kind of dread. His instincts screamed at him to get away.

He could have killed me already.

The realization came with terrifying clarity.

Yet Ethan hadn’t.

His fingers trembled around Ethan’s wrist as he stared into those calm eyes, and the fear inside him deepened. Dying here would be terrible, but the look in Ethan’s eyes made him feel as though whatever was about to happen could be far worse than simply joining the bodies lying across the valley floor.

Ethan’s breathing slowed as he felt the reserve of Living Blood within his body dwindling. His body needed more, and it needed it now. His gaze remained on the cultivator hanging in his grasp, and for a moment, Ethan hesitated. The man’s blood was so close that Blood Perception made every beat of his heart impossible to ignore, yet Ethan still resisted the instinct rising within him.

He had never taken blood directly from someone who was still alive. He had always found another way, even when the blood had belonged to a human or cultivator. But now, surrounded by bodies and pushed to the edge of his reserves, the thought he had tried to reject returned with a force he could no longer ignore.

His lips parted, and something sharp pressed against his tongue. Ethan froze for a brief moment, caught between the choice he had been avoiding and the instinct demanding that he stop holding back. Then he gave in. His fangs extended, and the cultivator’s face went pale when he saw them.

Ethan pulled him closer and sank his teeth into the man’s neck.

The cultivator immediately struggled, his free hand striking Ethan’s shoulder once, then again, but Ethan’s grip remained firm. Warmth rushed into him, and the moment the blood entered his body, the Blood Seed responded. Living Blood surged through his veins, spreading outward as the stolen blood was drawn into the process. Ethan drank deeper, and the cultivator’s resistance gradually weakened beneath his grasp.

Around them, the sounds of the battle seemed to stretch and fade into the distance. The movement of bodies through the valley, the shouts between groups, the hurried exchanges of those still rushing towards him, all seemed to lose their urgency at once. It happened so quickly that there was no clear moment when the others stopped. One instant the valley had been filled with motion, and the next, several nearby cultivators were simply staring, their attention drawn toward the strange sight at the center of the battlefield.

Ethan didn’t notice them.

He kept drinking.

The man’s body grew heavier in his arms as his struggle weakened, his strength draining away until even his attempts to resist became little more than faint movements. Then those movements stopped altogether.

Ethan finally released him.

The body dropped onto the blood-soaked ground.

For several breaths, Ethan remained where he stood, his chest rising and falling as blood stained his mouth. The sounds of the valley slowly returned around him, but Ethan barely heard them.

Something had changed inside him.

Living Blood rushed through Ethan like a tide returning to an empty shore. The hollow feeling that had settled inside him began to recede, and the change spread through his body almost immediately. The wound beneath his ribs tightened as torn flesh drew together, the pain in his leg faded, and the exhaustion that had been weighing down his movements gradually loosened its grip. With every breath, the emptiness left behind by the battle was being filled again, replaced by warmth and strength flowing steadily through him.

Ethan slowly straightened and looked down at the cultivator lying at his feet. The man’s body was motionless among the blood and scattered weapons, and for a moment Ethan simply stood there, feeling the last traces of the blood he had taken settle through his body. He could still taste it on his tongue, warm and metallic, and the sensation was difficult to ignore. The hunger that had driven him to act was no longer clawing at him. It had been answered, and that realization carried a strange weight of its own.

When Ethan raised his eyes, he found the entire valley watching him.

The valley seemed to hold its breath. The cultivators surrounding Ethan had been pressing toward him only moments ago, closing in from different directions, but what they had just witnessed stopped them in their tracks. They had watched Ethan seize one of their own, lift him from the ground, and sink his fangs into his neck like a wild beast feeding on its prey. No one had expected that. Even those who had already seen Ethan heal from wounds and cut down their companions were left staring at the sight before them, their weapons still in their hands but their bodies momentarily frozen as they tried to understand what they had witnessed. The movements that had filled the valley only moments earlier had died away, replaced by the uneasy sounds of shifting feet and uneven breathing as every gaze remained fixed on Ethan.

Above them, the moon hung high over the mountain peaks, casting pale light across the rocks, the blood-soaked ground, and the bodies scattered around Ethan. Some of the cultivators stood exposed beneath the moonlight, while others remained partly hidden among the trees and shadows, but none of them looked away. The wind slipped through the valley once more, carrying that long, mournful wail between the rocks, almost like the cry of a woman grieving somewhere deep within the mountains.

For those few moments, the hunt, the bounty, and even the danger of approaching Ethan seemed to disappear beneath the shock of what they had just seen. They were no longer simply looking at the man they had come to kill.

They were staring at something they had never expected to encounter.

Ethan slowly closed his mouth and drew a quiet breath. Blood still coated his tongue, and when he swallowed, the taste lingered for a moment longer before fading. He wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, his fingers coming away stained red. His fangs remained visible, and a faint dark-red glow lingered in his eyes as he looked across the people surrounding him.

The name they had heard along the roads suddenly had a face.

Not a rumor.

Not a bounty notice.

A young man standing in the middle of a valley filled with bodies, blood still staining his mouth and his fangs exposed beneath the pale light of the moon.

A cold wind moved through the valley then, lifting Ethan’s dark hair and carrying the scent of blood between the rocks. It slipped through the narrow mountain walls and rose into that same long, mournful wail that had followed him since entering Wailing Mountain, sounding almost like the distant cry of a woman grieving somewhere in the darkness. The sound lingered between the slopes before slowly fading away, leaving the valley quiet once more.

Ethan’s fingers tightened around his short dao as he looked across the cultivators. They were still his enemies. They were still surrounding him, and through Blood Perception he could feel their vitality scattered throughout the valley, some close, some farther away, with others hidden beyond the range of his senses. Yet they no longer seemed like an endless wall that he had to break through. He could feel the blood moving inside every living body around him, the warmth beneath their skin and the steady pulse running through their veins, and his body had just shown him exactly what that blood could do.

The cage was still there, and the people surrounding him were still closing in. But Ethan no longer looked at them the same way. Before, every cultivator around him had been another opponent to kill or avoid. Now he could feel the blood flowing through their bodies, and he knew exactly what that blood could do for him. Every living cultivator around him was carrying the very thing his body needed to keep fighting.

His eyes lifted toward the darkness ahead, his fangs still exposed beneath the moonlight.

A faint smile touched his lips.

Maybe he didn’t need to escape anymore.