Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Price of Blood

Porcelain bottles of every shape and size crowded a long stone table, and beside it lay heaps of seemingly ordinary weapons. The entire secret chamber was crammed full of these items, making the space feel oppressively tight.

“Clear Breeze Powder, Three-Day Death Pellet, Heavenly Fragrance Balm, Great Rejuvenation Pill…” Lei Yan rifled through the medicines atop the stone table, astonished. Only a handful of these elixirs belonged to the mundane world—formulas he could concoct as long as he had enough ingredients. The rest, however, were beyond the reach of mortals; even with all the necessary components, he could never create them, for such pills required the true fire within a cultivator to refine.

“Foundation-Building Pill!” Lei Yan’s eyes shone. For innate martial artists, this was the stuff of dreams. There were only two ways to step into the ranks of cultivators: one was to take a Foundation-Building Pill, which, though not without risk of failure, was straightforward and attainable. The other was to perceive the Heavenly Dao and transform one’s internal energy into the true force of a cultivator—but such enlightenment was as elusive as mist, and with an innate martial artist’s mere century of life, how could one hope to achieve it? Staring at the porcelain bottle in his hand, Lei Yan felt his resolve waver.

“Hahaha!” Gui Duzi laughed at Lei Yan’s expression. “The Foundation-Building Pill is indeed a treasure coveted by every innate martial artist, but it won’t be of much use to you—for now, at least, since you haven’t reached the innate level yet! Why not look around at the others before you decide?”

Not of much use? Lei Yan disagreed. Just because the Foundation-Building Pill wouldn’t benefit him directly didn’t mean it held no value. He had his own thoughts and plans for revenge—after all, his enemies were within the Supreme Truth Sect, among cultivators. He would not let this opportunity slip by. Clutching the bottle, he continued searching for something even more useful.

Hours passed as Lei Yan examined the medicines from end to end. Many were indeed valuable: Split-Infant Pill, Seven Itch Seven Pain Powder, Feigned Death Pellet… The Split-Infant Pill, true to its name, would slowly corrode and destroy the nascent soul of a cultivator in the Nascent Soul stage. The Seven Itch Seven Pain Powder was particularly cruel: once poisoned, the victim would itch down to the marrow, then suffer agonizing pain, the cycle repeating seven times. These were potent, yet next to the Foundation-Building Pill, they paled in comparison; with the Foundation-Building Pill, one could foster new cultivators.

“No need to rush! Over here are some spiritual artifacts I’ve refined. Though they’re only of mid-grade, they’re still treasures in the world of cultivation!” Gui Duzi said patiently.

“Treasures among cultivators?” Lei Yan’s longing for that world grew. “If these count as treasures even there, I should take a careful look.”

Swords, fans, banners, axes… These spiritual artifacts, outwardly indistinguishable from ordinary weapons, passed before Lei Yan’s eyes. Yet as he read their descriptions through the jade pendant, his disappointment mounted. Each required true force to wield. Lei Yan couldn’t help but mock himself: “Without true force, how can I even dream of using these artifacts?”

“Is true force so important? There are thousands of paths to the Dao, and the heart is the highest. Proving the Dao with your heart is the true foundation. Why worry about the presence or absence of true force?” Cultivators most feared an unsteady Dao heart. Seeing Lei Yan’s disappointment, Gui Duzi instinctively tried to comfort him.

Lei Yan gazed thoughtfully at the weapons before him, then smiled after a moment. “You’re right, true force isn’t everything. My path is mine to create!”

Gui Duzi stroked his beard and laughed. “A teachable young man! Hahaha!”

As Gui Duzi’s laughter echoed, Lei Yan’s gaze suddenly fixed on the far right corner of the room. There, he spotted an ancient-looking box. It was peculiar—seemingly woven from willow branches, and the intertwining twigs appeared still alive, writhing slightly from time to time. There was no accompanying explanation, so Lei Yan pointed at the box and asked, “What’s that?”

Gui Duzi stroked his beard, pondering a moment before answering, “That is a demon artifact—one without rank. Precisely because it has no grade, it doesn’t require true force to use, though aside from storage it’s not particularly useful. Still, it might be of some value to you—the space inside is ample for stowing odds and ends. It’s been sitting here long enough; if you want it, take it.”

Delight sparked in Lei Yan’s heart. He’d long struggled with storage—back on Green Wolf Mountain, had his powders not gotten wet, he wouldn’t have been in such dire straits.

“It’s alive?” The moment Lei Yan took the demon artifact in hand, he felt it quiver and couldn’t help but ask.

“That’s just appearance. Demon artifacts bond differently from spirit or magic artifacts. Spirit and magic artifacts require refining to recognize a master, and even then, the bond can be broken. Demon artifacts, however, require not refining but fusion. Once fused, the bond is eternal—no force can sever it. That’s why even demons disdain these rankless artifacts,” Gui Duzi explained slowly.

“How do I use it?” Lei Yan asked.

Gui Duzi motioned for Lei Yan to hold out his hand. “Every owner of a demon artifact must pay a price.”

Before Lei Yan could react, a wound as long as his pinky appeared on his right arm, blood welling slowly—so little that he barely felt pain. Gui Duzi pressed the box-shaped demon artifact to Lei Yan’s arm, and as blood seeped in, the twigs shifted slightly before settling again.

Gui Duzi frowned. “Strange. Normally, the amount of blood a demon artifact absorbs determines its grade. For a rankless one, a few drops should suffice.” He then slashed Lei Yan’s left arm, this time deeper. Drops of blood fell onto the demon artifact.

As blood continued to drip, the artifact’s branches began to writhe, dozens of them twisting like green snakes. Suddenly, they unfurled like a blossoming flower, swaying in the air. Blood still flowed, and Lei Yan’s face turned pale from the loss. He watched as the verdant branches slowly turned crimson, yet even then, they seemed unsated and coiled around his arm. Sharp pain lanced along his nerves, and Lei Yan, ashen-faced, gritted his teeth and watched the demon artifact burrow into his body.

Moments later, nothing remained on Lei Yan’s wrist but crimson lines like veins.

Gui Duzi, seeing the fusion complete, finally breathed a sigh of relief. Even top-grade demon artifacts didn’t require this much blood. Though he didn’t understand, demon artifacts were strange things by nature, and he soon dismissed it from his mind. He fetched a pouch of medicinal powder from behind him and handed it over. “How do you feel?”

Lei Yan, pale as paper, took the powder, sprinkled it on his wounds to staunch the bleeding, and forced a bitter smile. “A few cubic feet of storage, paid for in blood.”