Chapter 31 — The Blood Sacrifice and The Merchant's Lie
The Midnight Hunt
The moon hung high in the sky like a bone-white scythe, casting long, pale shadows across the Black Forest. The wind howled, sharp enough to cut skin, but Long Tan did not feel the cold.
He felt only a hollow, gnawing hunger. Not for food, but for energy.
To revive the dead Ginseng, the Vital Soil demanded a price: Blood. High-energy, wild blood.
Long Tan moved through the frozen underbrush like a ghost. He didn't snap twigs. He didn't leave a sound. He was a shadow detached from the night.
Rustle.
Fifty meters away, the bushes exploded outward.
A massive dark shape tore through the frozen vegetation, snorting white steam into the air.
Target: Iron-Tusk Boar.
It was a monster of the forest, a slab of muscle and rage weighing over 400 pounds. Its tusks were jagged yellow knives, coated in dried mud and the blood of previous kills.
The boar saw him. It stopped, pawing the ground. It squealed—a high-pitched sound of pure aggression—and charged.
The ground shook under its hooves. Thump-thump-thump.
A normal hunter would climb a tree. A normal hunter would run.
Long Tan didn't dodge. He stepped forward.
"Fuel."
He waited. He let the beast close the distance. Twenty feet. Ten feet. Three feet.
He could smell the animal's foul, rot-filled breath.
He planted his feet in the snow. His right arm turned a dull, metallic gray as Iron Skin surged to the surface.
BAM!
He punched the charging boar directly between the eyes.
There was no struggle. There was only a sickening, wet crunch of skull bone shattering.
The force of the blow was so heavy that the massive beast's back legs lifted off the ground. It collapsed into the snow, sliding to a halt at Long Tan's boots.
Dead instantly.
He didn't stop to rest. The soil was still hungry.
Ten minutes later, his eyes locked onto a shadow darting through the trees. A Swift Deer.
Long Tan bent down and scooped up a jagged river stone. He weighed it in his hand.
He didn't aim with his eye; he aimed with his instinct.
WHOOSH.
The stone flew through the trees like a bullet fired from a gun.
Thud.
It struck the deer in the neck. The animal dropped silently into the drifts.
Long Tan hoisted the 400-pound boar on his left shoulder and the deer on his right. He walked back to the fortress carrying 600 pounds of dead weight, leaving a trail of deep footprints in the snow.
The Seven-Day Death Sentence
Back in the safety of the courtyard, Long Tan worked with grim efficiency. He butchered the animals, filling heavy clay jars with the fresh, steaming blood.
He carried the jars to the secret backyard garden.
With trembling hands, he dug a hole in the center of the black Vital Soil and placed the shriveled, ugly root of the Withered Blood Ginseng inside.
He lifted the jars.
Splash.
He poured the thick red liquid over the earth.
Hiss...
The soil drank the liquid greedily, like a man dying of thirst. The black dirt seemed to ripple, and a faint red pulse began to beat beneath the surface. Thump... thump.
Long Tan placed his palm on the wet earth. He closed his eyes, extending his senses into the soil.
He felt the life inside the root. It was waking up, but it was sluggish. It was like trying to wake a bear from hibernation.
Too slow, his instincts whispered. At this natural pace, it will take seven days to sprout.
Long Tan's face darkened. He pulled his hand back.
"Seven days?"
He looked toward the village gate. The soap delivery was due tomorrow. The Zhou servant was expecting him.
"If I wait seven days, Zhou Ming will think I ran away. He will think I betrayed him. He will send an army to burn this house down."
Su Lan stood by the back door, wrapping a thin shawl around her shoulders against the biting wind. She saw the panic in his eyes.
"What do we do?" she whispered.
Long Tan stood up. His eyes burned with a desperate madness.
"We force it."
"The Sun-Moon Breathing gathers Qi from the heavens. If we pour our own life energy into the soil... we can feed it."
"But Tan," Su Lan stepped closer, gripping his arm. "Draining your Qi... it feels like starving. It will weaken you."
"We have no choice," Long Tan said firmly. "We ignore the deadline. We ignore the soap. We ignore the world. Until this blooms, nothing leaves this house."
The Shield of Lies (Meng City)
Day 2 Past the Deadline
Thirty miles away, in the opulent office of the Yan Trading House, the air was thick with tension.
The Zhou Family Steward—a man with a cruel, narrow face—paced around the room like a caged tiger.
"Two days!" the Steward shouted, spitting on the expensive rug. "Long Tan is two days late with the soap! My Young Master is losing patience."
Yan Bo, the fat merchant, sat behind his desk. He was sweating, but his mind was racing.
He watched the Steward carefully.
Something is wrong, Yan Bo thought. The Zhou Family is cruel. If a peasant steals from them, they kill him instantly. Why are they here yelling at me instead of burning Long Tan's village?
Yan Bo narrowed his eyes. "Steward, be honest with me. Your family has spies in the woods, correct?"
The Steward froze. He hesitated, then sneered. "Of course. We have three elite scouts watching his house day and night."
"And?" Yan Bo leaned forward. "Has Long Tan run away?"
"No," the Steward admitted, frustrated. "He hasn't left the house in three days. No smoke from the chimney. No movement."
Yan Bo smiled internally. Got you.
He realized the truth: The Zhou Family wasn't attacking because they were greedy. They knew Long Tan was inside, but they were afraid that if they attacked, the secret recipe for the soap would be lost or destroyed in the fire. They wanted the Golden Goose, not just the egg.
Yan Bo slammed his hand on the table. BANG.
"Then sit down!" Yan Bo roared, faking confidence.
The Steward blinked, surprised by the merchant's sudden aggression.
"You think Long Tan is hiding?" Yan Bo lied smoothly. "He is silent because I ordered him to be silent!"
Yan Bo stood up, pointing a chubby finger at the Steward.
"We are refining a 'Premium Batch' for the City Lord's birthday. It requires total isolation and continuous heat control for three days. If your clumsy guards barge in there now, they will ruin the batch and destroy the recipe!"
The Steward hesitated. Greed flickered in his eyes. "A... Premium Batch? For the City Lord?"
"Yes!" Yan Bo wiped his forehead with a silk cloth. "It is worth 5,000 Silver. Do you want to
"Fine. One more day. But if there is no soap tomorrow, we assume he is dead, and we take the house apart brick by brick."
The Steward stormed out.
Yan Bo slumped into his chair, gasping for air. He had bought Long Tan 24 hours by using the Zhou Family's own greed against them.
"Don't die on me, Hunter," Yan Bo thought desperately. "I just bet my life on your Premium Batch."
The Marathon of Breath
Back in the village, Long Tan didn't know Yan Bo had saved him. He only knew pain.
For three days and three nights, the backyard became a silent furnace.
Long Tan sat on one side of the soil patch. Su Lan sat on the other.
"Inhale... Exhale..."
They drew the freezing air into their lungs, refined it into warm energy, and pushed it out through their palms into the dirt. They were feeding their own life force to the plant.
Day 1:
The snow around the garden melted completely. The soil turned hot to the touch.
Long Tan was sweating, his shirt soaked. Su Lan's face was pale, but her hands never wavered.
Day 2:
The Soap Delivery deadline passed.
Long Tan didn't move. He didn't go to the gate. He let the Zhou family wait.
His body was trembling. His stomach cramped with hunger, but he couldn't stop to eat.
"Keep pushing," he rasped, his voice sounding like sandpaper.
Day 3:
They were dying.
Long Tan's vision was blurry. The world spun around him. His arms felt like lead weights.
Su Lan swayed. She let out a soft sigh, her eyes rolling back in her head. She collapsed sideways, falling face-first onto the cold mud.
"Lan!"
Long Tan tried to reach her, but his legs wouldn't obey. He was drained dry. He slumped forward, his forehead touching the dirt, wheezing for air.
The Little Helper
"Mama? Papa?"
Little San waddled into the backyard.
The toddler saw his parents lying on the ground, gasping for air like fish out of water.
Most children would scream or cry. Little San didn't scream. He frowned, his small eyebrows knitting together in concern.
He ran to the water barrel. He couldn't lift the bucket, so he dipped a heavy wooden ladle into the water.
He walked back, his small hands shaking under the weight, spilling half the water on his tunic.
He knelt by Long Tan.
"Drink, Papa."
Long Tan opened his cracked lips. The cold water hit his tongue like nectar from the gods. It washed away the dust and the dryness.
"Good boy," Long Tan wheezed, patting his son's head.
Little San went to Su Lan. He patted water onto her forehead with his small, wet hand.
"Mama, wake up."
Su Lan groaned, her eyelashes fluttering.
Then, the little boy sat down between them.
He looked at the glowing red soil. He looked at his parents.
He closed his eyes.
His small chest rose. Inhale.
His small chest fell. Exhale.
He began to mimic their breathing rhythm. He couldn't cultivate yet—he had no foundation—but his intent was pure. He was adding his small breath to theirs, trying to help carry the burden.
The Bloom
Suddenly, the ground shook.
CRACK.
The sound was loud, like a gunshot.
The soil split open. A blinding crimson light shot into the sky, illuminating the courtyard walls.
The plant grew visibly, twisting and stretching. Leaves unfurled—sharp, red, and shaped like dragon scales.
The root swelled up, pushing itself out of the dirt.
It was massive. It was the size of a human baby.
It pulsed with a heavy, audible heartbeat. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The heat coming off it was intense enough to singe eyebrows.
The Dragon-Blood Ginseng was born.
The Forceful Breakthrough
Long Tan stared at the glowing root.
He wanted to eat it immediately. His body screamed for the energy.
But he stopped.
His body was hollow. He had drained all his energy to feed the plant. If he ate this violent, high-grade medicine now, while he was this weak, he would explode.
"I need to prime the engine," he growled.
He grabbed the raw leg of the Iron-Tusk Boar lying in the snow.
He didn't cook it. He didn't slice it.
He tore into the raw meat with his teeth. He chewed through muscle and gristle, swallowing huge chunks, bones and all.
He ate until his stomach was hard as a rock.
He wiped the blood from his mouth and sat back in the meditative pose.
"700 Jin," he whispered. "I must reach 700 Jin before I eat the Ginseng. I have to stretch my skin to hold the power."
He activated the Sun-Moon Breathing.
He took the crude energy from the raw meat and rammed it into his exhausted muscles.
"Compress!"
The reaction was violent.
His skin turned a bright, angry red. It felt hot to the touch, like a fever of 105 degrees.
Steam poured off his shoulders in thick white plumes.
It hurt. It felt like his bones were being crushed in a vice.
Usually, a warrior takes months to gain 70 Jin of strength. Long Tan was forcing it in minutes.
POP.
His shoulder joints widened, tearing the ligaments and rebuilding them instantly.
CRACK.
His ribs expanded, making his chest broader.
"Argh!"
Long Tan roared, arching his back.
He felt the invisible barrier inside him shatter.
The 630 Jin limit broke like glass.
Power flooded his empty veins.
650 Jin... 680 Jin... 700 Jin.
He collapsed forward, panting heavily. His skin was smoking in the cold air.
He had forced his body to the level of a Master just to prepare for the real treasure.
He looked at the red Ginseng, glowing in the dirt. He looked at the gate where the Zhou family was surely waiting.
"Now," Long Tan whispered, grabbing the glowing root.
"Let them come. I am ready."