At the same time, inside the house
Grandfather Shen's body jolted violently.
Before he was fully awake, his hand had already shot toward his chest, fingers closing around the familiar shape hidden beneath his robe. The movement was instinctive, reflexive—etched into muscle and bone long before peaceful nights had ever been an option.
It wasn't thirst that dragged him from sleep.
Nor the dull aches of age that sometimes haunted his bones on cold nights.
It was something far sharper an alarm honed through decades of hardship, of surviving when others hadn't.
Dense.
Heavy.
Unmistakable.
His aged eyes snapped open in the darkness, pupils contracting as his breath stilled in his chest. For a brief moment, the old man lay perfectly motionless, listening not with his ears, but with the quiet awareness that had kept him alive long before Shen Yuan ever came into this world.
Then the realization struck.
This feeling… it is definitely
Killing intent.
Inside my house…?
No.
The thought alone made my chest tighten, a cold pressure spreading outward from my heart.
The killing intent wasn't directed outward.
It wasn't hostile toward us.
But it was real dense enough to seep through walls, heavy enough to tear an old man from sleep when even thunder no longer could.
And there was only one person in this house capable of releasing something like this.
Yuan'er…
My jaw tightened, teeth pressing together as unease settled deep in my bones.
Then I noticed it.
The house was silent.
Too silent.
My thoughts snapped instantly to the children.
Without hesitation, I rose from the bed, movements careful despite the urgency pounding through my veins. I slipped into my outer robe and moved down the short corridor, easing the door to the children's room open just enough to peer inside.
Mo Fan slept curled on his side, one arm thrown protectively around the blanket as if shielding it even in his dreams. Mo Ling lay sprawled messily across the bed, breathing softly, lips slightly parted—perhaps still chasing sweets in whatever childish dream held her captive.
Safe.
At least they weren't affected by it.
I exhaled slowly, forcing some of the tension from my lungs, but the pressure in my chest did not ease.
The killing intent was still there.
Lingering.
Frowning, I turned and headed down the corridor toward Shen Yuan's cultivation room.
My gaze hardened.
My steps were light but quick, controlled. I had learned long ago that panic only dulled judgment and dull judgment got people killed.
The door stood open.
Empty.
The room was empty.
My heart sank.
A cold thread crept up my spine, winding itself tightly around my thoughts.
Yuan'er… where are you?
As if answering my unspoken question, the killing intent pulsed again faint, but unmistakable.
Not inside the house.
Behind it.
The backyard.
My grip tightened around the object beneath my robe as I turned sharply and moved toward the back door, every sense honed, every instinct screaming that whatever I was about to see… would not be ordinary.
----
He moved toward the back door, pausing just before opening it. His breathing slowed, each inhale measured, his body coiling unconsciously, like an old hunting beast sensing danger and preparing itself to strike if needed.
Then, slowly, he pushed the door open.
Moonlight spilled into the yard, pale and cold, washing over the earth like a silent tide.
And there he is,
Shen Yuan stood with his back turned, facing the sky.
At first glance, he looked no different than usual. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture straight yet relaxed. His head was tilted upward, as though he were simply admiring the stars scattered across the heavens.
But to Grandfather's eyes,
For one terrifying heartbeat.
A dense red mist coiled around him.
Not qi.
Not blood.
But something far more primal.
It writhed like living snake made up of smoke, heavy with malice and grief, clinging to Shen Yuan's silhouette as if it wished to swallow him whole. The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing against the chest, carrying a faint metallic tang of blood that was not truly there.
Grandfather's heart skipped violently.
His grip tightened around the handle hidden beneath his robe, knuckles whitening.
Then.
He blinked.
The red mist vanished.
The yard was the same as it had always been. Quiet. Still. Bathed in pale moonlight. The grass stirred faintly in the night breeze, and only Shen Yuan remained, standing motionless beneath the stars.
Grandfather lifted a trembling hand and rubbed his eyes with the back of it, his brows knitting together in deep confusion.
A hallucination…?
A trick of old age?
The oppressive pressure eased, just enough for him to loosen his grip on the weapon, though he did not release it entirely. Caution lingered in his bones as he stepped forward, boots crunching softly against the packed dirt.
"Yuan'er," he called, his voice low, careful not to startle.
No response.
He took another step closer.
"Yuan'er."
Still nothing.
Unease crept back into his chest, coiling tightly around his heart. After a brief hesitation, he reached out and placed a hand on Shen Yuan's shoulder, giving it a light, tentative tap.
Only then did Shen Yuan finally snapped out of his thoughts.
-----
Startled by the touch, my eyes snapping into focus as the world rushed back into place.
I turned back saw grandfather looking at me.
"Grandfather?" I asked, "Why are you awake at this hour?"
For a moment, he didn't answer.
He simply looked at me.
Not a passing glance, not the casual look of reassurance but a long, searching gaze, as though he were trying to see past my skin and into whatever lingered beneath.
My breathing was steady now. My pulse calm. Whatever storm had raged moments ago had already been buried deep, sealed behind layers of restraint.
I made sure of it.
Grandfather's eyes lingered on my face, his brows faintly drawn together, as if searching for something he couldn't quite put into words.
"…Nothing," he said at last, his voice easing, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. "I woke up feeling thirsty. When I didn't see you in your room, I thought I'd check."
His gaze drifted upward, following the direction of my earlier stare, toward the endless spread of stars overhead.
"What are you doing out here so late?" he asked quietly.
I hesitated.
The memories stirred faintly in my chest, faces half-forgotten, voices drowned in screams, the lingering scent of blood that no amount of time could erase.
My jaw tightened for an instant.
Then I swallowed it all down.
"Just… remembering some things," I replied, my voice low, carefully measured.
That was all I gave him.
And it was enough.
Grandfather understood immediately that I wasn't going to elaborate.
He didn't press.
Instead, he stepped closer, coming to stand beside me.
Two figures beneath the moonlight, shoulder to shoulder, like any ordinary family admiring the night sky. The silence between us wasn't awkward. It was heavy, but warm, filled with unspoken understanding.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then he broke the silence.
"Yuan'er," he said slowly.
I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze.
"I trust you."
The words were simple, but they struck deeper than any reprimand ever could.
"Whatever you wish to do in the future," he said, "think carefully before taking a step. Only move when you are certain, and only act when you are truly prepared."
His tone was gentle, almost calm, but the weight behind each word pressed firmly against my chest.
"Even if it takes a long time," he said, eyes fixed on the sky, "waiting is not a weakness. Preparation is never wasted."
I nodded slowly.
"I know," I said.
And this time, I truly meant it.
He reached out and patted my shoulder once again firm and grounding, as if anchoring me to the present, to this moment, to this world.
"Alright," he said, letting out a quiet breath. "It's late. I'll go back to sleep. Don't stay out here too long. You've been cultivating hard don't exhaust yourself."
"Good night, Grandfather."
He turned and walked back toward the house, his figure gradually swallowed by shadow until the door closed softly behind him.
I remained where I was, watching the place he disappeared into, a tightness lingering in my chest.
He knew.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
After the house fell silent again, I lowered myself onto the cool ground beneath the moon. The chill seeped through my clothes, grounding me, steadying the remnants of my racing heart.
I stayed there until my breathing and thoughts are fully evened out.
Only then did I stand again.
I summoned the system panel and opened the rewards section.
My gaze settled on the lone Blood Energy reward.
Without hesitation.
I clicked it.
The moment the Blood Energy activated, my body reacted before my mind could catch up.
It was as if a floodgate had been torn open.
Crimson power surged in my heart, violent and unrestrained, and the stars above seemed to sharpen cold, distant, as though bearing silent witness to what was about to unfold.
A torrential wave of scorching energy erupted from my chest, tearing through my meridians and flooding every corner of my body. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, each pulse echoing like a war drum. The world snapped into painful clarity edges too sharp, sounds too crisp, every sensation magnified beyond comfort.
I exhaled slowly and planted my feet firmly into the earth.
Calm.
Control.
Raising my hands, I began the first movement of the body cultivation art.
Above me, the night sky responded.
Invisible yet undeniable, starlight converged above me, descending in thin, concentrated streams. It wrapped around my body like a celestial furnace, igniting the blood energy surging beneath my skin.
Heat exploded.
My skin flared crimson almost instantly, glowing as if molten metal had been dragged fresh from a forge. The air around me shimmered, waves of distortion rippling outward as the temperature spiked.
First cycle.
The movements flowed smoothly at the beginning. Each step, each turn, each measured breath guided the blood energy deeper, refining my skin layer by layer. Pain followed but it was familiar. Manageable.
Second cycle.
The heat intensified.
My muscles tightened, veins bulging as blood energy churned violently through my body. Sweat poured down my back, soaking my clothes, only to evaporate before it could drip to the ground.
My breathing grew heavier, but my rhythm held.
Third cycle.
That was when I felt it.
Resistance.
My body slowed as if I were wading through thick mud. Each movement demanded exponentially more effort. My bones creaked faintly, tendons screaming under the strain as pressure mounted from within.
The skin tempering had reached its limit....