"Still Tin-rank... No improvements." Zhung muttered, his voice distant as he fell into a daze.
He sat atop the roof of Li Huang's manor, legs crossed, hands resting loosely on his knees. The position should have been uncomfortable—the tiles were hard and sloped at an awkward angle—but Zhung barely noticed. His dark eyes stared forward without focus, watching but not truly seeing as the sun began its slow rise over the horizon.
Dawn crept across the Western Frontier like a careful intruder, lightening the darkness that had covered the city through the night. First came the faint glow at the eastern edge—barely visible, more a lessening of black than true light. Then gradual brightening, shadows retreating inch by inch, until finally the sun's edge appeared, burning gold against the pale sky.
It was another new day. Another cycle. Another chance.
Zhung hadn't slept at night. He'd been too occupied with deep thinking—planning, predicting, trying to prepare for every possible outcome of the conversation he knew was coming with Li Huang. His mind had run through scenarios endlessly, calculating probabilities, weighing risks against potential benefits.
*Still weak,* he thought with cold self-assessment. *Still powerless. Still broken.*
*I have an Aperture now, yes. But it's empty—a vessel with nothing to channel. I can't access Will yet. The demonic blood I consumed to open the Aperture wasn't enough to fill it, only to create it. I'm barely Tin-rank—the lowest of cultivation stages, unable to even perform the most basic techniques.*
*A child playing at being a cultivator. Li Huang's guards could kill me without effort. Even Li Mei, if she's trained at all, might be stronger than me.*
*I need to advance. Quickly. I need to fill my Aperture, learn to channel Will. Before Li Huang decides I'm more useful dead than alive.*
He stood slowly, his white hanfu rustling with the movement. He raised both arms in a cross, stretching muscles that had grown stiff from sitting motionless for hours. The morning breeze passed over the rooftop, making his white hanfu sway and his long brown hair stream behind him like a banner.
For just a moment, Zhung allowed himself to relax—to feel the wind on his face, the warmth of the rising sun, the simple physical pleasure of being alive and whole.
Then the moment passed, and his expression returned to its usual cold neutrality.
*Whatever challenges Li Huang presents today, I'll face them. Even if they kill me, I'll face them. Because the alternative—running, hiding, giving up—that's not survival. That's just a slower death.*
He descended from the roof with practiced ease, climbing down using handholds and ledges that weren't obvious unless you knew where to look. His feet touched solid ground silently, and he made his way back to his room to prepare for the inevitable summons.
---
Morning arrived fully, and with it came the servant's knock.
"Mister Zhung, Master Li Huang requests your presence immediately."
Zhung had been expecting this. He'd already dressed properly, tied his hair back, and composed his expression into the empty mask that gave away nothing.
"I'll come now," he replied, his voice flat.
He followed the servant through corridors he was beginning to memorize, noting exits and windows, counting guards, cataloging weapons. Information. Always gather information, because you never knew when some small detail might save your life.
They entered Li Huang's private office—larger and more ostentatious than necessary, decorated with expensive furniture and artwork meant to impress visitors with the merchant's wealth and taste.
Li Huang sat behind his desk, grinning like a man who'd just won a particularly satisfying gamble. His expression was triumphant, predatory, barely containing his excitement at whatever scheme he'd devised.
Zhung stood before him, indifferent on the surface, his dark eyes briefly darting to Li Mei, who stood off to the side. She was nervous—trembling slightly, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
Their eyes met for just a moment. Hers carried a warning, a plea, an apology. His carried nothing—just the same empty darkness they always showed.
Then he looked back to Li Huang, waiting.
*She warned me,* he thought. *Tried to help me escape. But I'm still here. Either I'm more foolish than I thought, or I'm gambling that whatever Li Huang offers will be worth the risk.*
*Probably both.*
The silence stretched until Li Huang broke it with his excited voice, the words tumbling out with barely restrained glee.
"Guards!" he called out.
Immediately, armed men moved into position—blocking the doorway, positioning themselves around the room's perimeter. At least eight of them, maybe more. All cultivators, based on their bearing and the spiritual energy Zhung could faintly sense radiating from them.
Zhung remained standing, unmoved, his expression betraying no fear or surprise.
*As expected,* he thought coldly. *Overwhelming force to ensure I can't refuse or fight back. Truly a businessman's approach—minimize risk, maximize control.*
"Now, now, Mister Zhung," Li Huang said, his smile widening until it showed teeth. "I have two choices for you. Only two. Choose carefully."
*As expected,* Zhung thought again. *Li Huang has already calculated the losses and benefits of keeping me alive. This isn't about generosity or mercy—it's pure business. I must be worth more alive and controlled than dead and discarded.*
Zhung nodded coldly, his dark eyes scanning the room, analyzing his surroundings with practiced efficiency. Eight guards at minimum, all Bronze to Copper rank based on their auras. The doorway completely blocked. Windows too small to escape through quickly. Li Huang himself probably had some cultivation, though Zhung couldn't sense how much.
His breath grew heavier despite his outward calm. His heart rate increased, adrenaline beginning to flood his system as his body prepared for potential violence.
*No escape from this,* he calculated with brutal honesty. *If I try to run or fight, I'll die within seconds. So I choose the option with the highest survival chance and the highest potential benefit. That's the only logical path.*
*Even if it means becoming Li Huang's weapon.*
"Okay, Mister Zhung," Li Huang began, settling back in his chair like a merchant about to make a sales pitch. "Your first choice is to work with me—to become my personal asset. You'll help me eliminate my competitors in business. In return, I'll reward you with demonic or divine blood whenever my people can acquire it. You'll have resources, protection, and the opportunity to grow stronger under my patronage."
He paused, letting the offer sink in, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at having Zhung cornered.
Then his face became cold, his gaze darkening with genuine menace.
"Your second choice..." He let the words hang in the air like a blade. "You could die. Right here, right now. My guards would handle it quickly. Your body would disappear. And I'd simply tell people you ran away in the night—another ungrateful employee who betrayed my generosity."
The threat wasn't subtle or elegant. It was blunt and direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
Zhung's flat voice echoed in the suddenly tense room. "I'll choose the first one."
Li Huang's grin returned immediately, triumphant and predatory, like a beast tamer who'd just successfully broken a particularly difficult animal. He raised his palm, and a servant materialized from the corner, carrying a small bottle filled with black liquid.
"Master, there is no more blood in storage," the servant said flatly, handing over the bottle. "This is the last one we have."
"Then you can leave and tell the soldiers to hunt for more demonic or divine blood immediately," Li Huang commanded, taking the bottle and examining it briefly before his eyes moved to the lonely figure standing before him.
He threw the bottle toward Zhung in a casual arc.
Zhung caught it easily, his reflexes sharp despite his low cultivation rank. The glass was cool against his palm, and he could feel the liquid inside shifting with the motion.
Everything went quiet for a moment—the guards watching, Li Mei trembling, Li Huang grinning, Zhung standing with the bottle clutched in his hand.
Then Zhung reached up with his free hand and tied his long brown hair back more securely, the gesture both practical and symbolic—preparing himself for what came next.
"Now you can leave, Mister Zhung," Li Huang said, his voice carrying smug satisfaction. "Try to climb your rank as quickly as possible. And I'll call for you when I've identified who needs to be... eliminated."
Zhung bowed coldly—just enough to maintain appearances—then turned and left the room with measured steps. He could feel the guards' eyes following him, feel Li Mei's worried gaze on his back, feel Li Huang's satisfaction radiating like heat.
He didn't look back.
---
Zhung entered his room and closed the door carefully, listening for footsteps in the hallway. When he was certain no one had followed, he moved to the center of the room and stared at the bottle clutched in his hand.
The glass was old—scratched and slightly cloudy—but intact. Inside, black liquid moved sluggishly, thicker than water, darker than ink. Even through the sealed cork, he could smell copper—blood, unmistakably blood, but tainted with something else. Something that made his empty Aperture pulse with uncomfortable hunger.
*This might be dangerous,* Zhung thought, examining the bottle from different angles. *If this demonic blood has already expired and I drink it, I might die. The book said demonic blood expires in two hours after collection. This could be hours old, days old, even weeks old if someone tried to preserve it with techniques I don't know about.*
His steps moved across the wooden floor, each creak loud in the quiet room. He sat on his bed, the bottle still clutched in his hand, and allowed himself to frown—a rare show of genuine emotion.
*I'll gamble again,* he decided. *Because there's a chance—slim, but real—that this blood is still potent. And I need to advance. Desperately. My Aperture is open but empty. I can't channel Will yet. I'm just a mortal with a spiritual organ that does nothing. Staying at this level while Li Huang has Bronze and Copper rank guards means I'm completely powerless. Just a tool that can be discarded the moment I'm no longer useful.*
*The truth is, beast blood with demonic or divine properties is incredibly rare. Even if you successfully kill a beast carrying such blood, you have to drink it immediately. Demonic blood expires in two hours. Divine blood lasts slightly longer—two and a half hours—but both become poisonous after that window closes.*
*That's why so few people awaken cultivation. It's not just the danger of hunting powerful beasts. It's the strict time limit, the need to consume fresh blood immediately, the agony of transformation that kills nine out of ten who try.*
*And now I'm about to gamble my life on expired blood that might kill me as surely as any poison.*
Zhung's gaze grew serious, focused. He'd made his decision, and second-guessing now served no purpose.
He positioned himself in the center of the bed, arranging his body in the lotus sitting position—legs crossed, spine straight, hands resting palm-up on his knees. The position was meant to facilitate energy circulation, creating the optimal conditions for what he was about to attempt.
He uncorked the bottle.
Immediately, the smell of copper intensified, spreading through the small room like a virus. It was overwhelmingly metallic, but underneath lay other scents—rot, maybe, or something stranger that his mortal nose couldn't quite identify.
*Too late to turn back now.*
Zhung raised the bottle to his lips and drank.
The taste hit him like a physical blow—copper and iron and heat, like swallowing boiling water mixed with metal shavings. It burned down his throat, scalding his esophagus, settling in his stomach like molten lead.
For one heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—agony.
His eyes became bloodshot instantly, veins standing out across his face and neck like angry red lines. His vision went crimson at the edges, and he had to force himself to focus, to remember the meditation techniques from his dream-life's cultivation training.
*Guide it,* he commanded himself desperately. *Don't let it stay in the stomach—it'll poison you from there. Guide it to the heart, to the Aperture. Fill the vessel. That's the only way to survive and advance.*
He closed his eyes and turned his attention inward, feeling for the demonic blood now moving through his body like liquid fire. It wanted to spread everywhere, to corrupt every organ, to transform his flesh into something monstrous and unstable.
He couldn't let that happen.
With all his mental focus, Zhung guided the demonic blood—imagining pathways from his stomach to his heart, visualizing the essence flowing through his body toward the empty Aperture waiting to be filled.
The blood resisted, fought against his control, tried to scatter through his system.
But Zhung held firm, his will shaped by three lifetimes of suffering and survival, and slowly—agonizingly slowly—he forced the demonic essence toward his heart.
Blood trickled from his nose suddenly, hot and wet against his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and saw his own pure human blood—bright red, untainted.
*Good. That means the transformation hasn't corrupted my entire system. Just need to endure a little longer.*
He clutched his chest with both hands, feeling his heart hammering like it was trying to burst through his ribs. The Aperture in his heart—the spiritual organ he'd formed weeks ago but had never been able to fill—was pulsing, expanding, finally receiving the essence it needed to function.
The pain was excruciating.
It felt like his heart was being torn apart from the inside, like molten metal was being poured directly into his chest cavity. Every nerve in his body screamed. His muscles spasmed involuntarily. Sweat poured down his face, soaking his clothes.
The empty vessel of his Aperture was filling—drop by agonizing drop—with corrupted demonic essence. But as it filled, something else was happening. The Aperture itself was changing, adapting, trying to refine the crude demonic blood into something his body could actually use.
*Endure,* he commanded himself. *This is nothing compared to what you've survived before. You've died twice. You can endure pain.*
But knowing intellectually that he could endure and actually enduring were two very different things.
His body began to convulse. Not small tremors but violent full-body spasms that made his teeth clatter and his spine arch. The demonic blood was fighting the Aperture's attempt to refine it, and the battlefield was his own flesh.
Zhung bit down hard on his tongue, using the sharp pain to maintain focus. Blood filled his mouth—his own blood this time—and he swallowed it rather than spit, refusing to waste even that small amount of essence.
Minutes passed like hours. The pain intensified, peaked, held at an unbearable level that made him want to scream or vomit or tear at his own skin.
Then, gradually—so gradually he almost didn't notice at first—the pain began to change.
It didn't lessen, exactly. But it transformed from chaotic agony into something more structured, more purposeful. Like a fire that had been wild and uncontrolled suddenly being channeled into a forge, burning hot but with direction.
His Aperture was winning. Slowly, it was refining the demonic blood, breaking down the corruption, extracting the pure essence needed to fuel cultivation.
The process continued for what felt like an eternity. Zhung lost track of time completely, his entire existence reduced to the single point of his chest where transformation was occurring.
Then suddenly, the pain vanished completely.
Zhung collapsed backward onto his bed, gasping, his body drenched in sweat and trembling with exhaustion. His right arm rose weakly in front of his face, and he stared at it with blurred vision.
*Did it work?* he wondered, too exhausted to feel much emotion beyond curiosity. *Am I stronger, or just closer to death?*
He closed his eyes and turned his attention inward again, this time searching not for invading essence but for the results of the transformation.
His Aperture pulsed in his chest—no longer an empty vessel but a reservoir filled with dark, swirling energy. Not much—barely enough to be called functional—but present. Real. Usable.
And more importantly, he could feel it responding to his will. When he focused on it, the energy stirred, ready to be channeled.
*I can't use techniques yet,* he realized with cold assessment. *My Aperture is filled, but only partially. I need more blood, more essence, to reach high-rank Tin and beyond. But this...*
A cold smile crossed his face as he stared at the ceiling.
*This is a beginning. I have an Aperture that can actually channel Will now. I'm no longer just a hollow cultivator. I'm functional. Weak, but functional.*
*Finally. Mid-rank Tin.*
*It's barely an improvement—most cultivators would laugh at such a minor advancement. But it's progress. A step forward on the path. And more importantly, it proves I can survive the transformation process.*
*Next time, I'll aim for high-rank Tin. Then Bronze. Then beyond.*
His smile widened slightly, becoming something sharp and dangerous.
*My climb is only beginning. Li Huang thinks he's tamed me, made me his weapon. But weapons can turn against their wielders if they're not careful.*
*I'll play his game. I'll eliminate his enemies and collect blood as payment. I'll grow stronger while he thinks he controls me.*
*And when I'm strong enough, when the moment is right...*
He didn't finish the thought. Planning too far ahead was dangerous—circumstances changed, opportunities appeared and disappeared, and rigid plans shattered under the weight of reality.
Better to remain flexible. To adapt. To survive one day at a time while working toward distant goals.
Zhung closed his eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with him after the intense cultivation session. His body needed rest to fully integrate the changes, to stabilize his new rank, to allow his Aperture to settle into its new state.
As consciousness faded, his last thought was simple and cold:
*Tomorrow, the real work begins. Tomorrow, I learn what it means to channel Will.*
*And more importantly the theory that worked, now the expired blood, I can still use it, using the dream life I learned about with different techniques to cultivate.*
---
**End of Chapter 16**