The night was deep and dark.
Black Blood Stockade seemed to have sunk into a deathly still swamp, with only the occasional bark of a dog proving any life remained here.
In the Steward's office on the second floor of the External Affairs Hall, candlelight flickered.
Lin Mu had not slept. He toyed with an exquisite porcelain bottle in his hands, but his gaze pierced through the window, fixed on that distant and filthy Rotten Shed District.
Through several days of observation, he had thoroughly uncovered Lin Wuxie's secrets.
Though the youth possessed terrifying regenerative and explosive power, he had one fatal flaw—the "black light."
Every time he fed or unleashed his strength, that eerie, bestial black aura would surface across Lin Wuxie's body. Out in the wilderness this hardly mattered, but tomorrow was the day of the Grand Competition's martial combat.
"Going on stage looking like that? He won't even need to fight."
"The moment he activates his abilities, that overwhelming stench of blood and that black light—which clearly doesn't belong to any righteous path—will instantly alert the Elders on the judges' panel."
"What awaits him then is only execution by the Punishment Hall."
Lin Mu's expression was cold. His fingertip traced lightly across the porcelain bottle.
"His death would be no great loss, but if he dies, that Food Path inheritance dies with him. I haven't yet extracted all his value. This chess piece cannot be discarded so easily."
He had to help him "cover his shame."
Lin Mu glanced at the porcelain bottle in his hand.
This was a substitute he had formulated by recalling details from the original novel, consulting various records, and then privately having the Medicine Hall prepare it—Ice Heart Powder, capable of temporarily suppressing the Food Path's backlash.
This powder was no rare treasure.
It was typically used to suppress the restless fire toxins that plagued fire-path Gu Masters during cultivation, but it also worked wonders for restraining bestial backlash and calming boiling blood essence.
"According to the pattern of Food Path backlash, tonight at the midnight hour is when he'll have just finished consuming flesh and blood—when the conflict between the foreign Dao marks within his body is most violent."
"It's also when his rationality is weakest and his defenses most easily breached."
"If he continues to endure like this, he won't last until tomorrow. Tonight alone will torture him into mental collapse."
Lin Mu rose and blew out the candle.
"When he's about to drown, hand him a straw. Even if that straw is coated in poison, he'll swallow it without hesitation."
In the darkness, Lin Mu shed his spotless Steward's robe.
This time, he didn't don his night-walking clothes. Instead, he draped himself in a loose black cloak and placed a plain wooden mask—devoid of any markings—over his face.
In an instant, he was swallowed by the shadows.
Rotten Shed District. Midnight hour.
Cold wind howled, rattling those dilapidated thatched shacks.
In the most secluded corner shack, a silent torture was underway.
Just as Lin Mu had predicted, Lin Wuxie was curled up on the cold, damp mud floor, his entire body convulsing violently.
"Ugh... ugh..."
His hands clawed desperately at the ground. His fingernails had torn back, carving ten bloody gouges into the hardened earth.
He dared not cry out. He could only clamp down on a strip of ragged cloth, his throat emitting whimpers like those of a dying beast.
The demonic beast flesh he had devoured had now transformed into countless raging resentments, shrieking madly within his mind.
Eat! Eat! Eat! Kill! Kill! Kill!
Bestial instinct was assaulting what remained of his sanity. His eyes rolled back, foam frothed from his mouth, and the bulging ridges crawling beneath his skin made him look like a malevolent ghost.
Despair.
Profound despair engulfed Lin Wuxie. He could feel his consciousness scattering, his body no longer his own.
"Am I going to die...?"
"I still haven't... haven't obtained the true inheritance... haven't lived long enough..."
Just as his consciousness was about to plunge into the dark abyss—
Creak—
That battered wooden door, on this windless night, slowly swung open.
Cold moonlight poured through the gap, stretching a pitch-black silhouette that fell precisely across Lin Wuxie's pain-contorted face.
Lin Wuxie's body shuddered. He struggled to lift his head.
Through the tangled strands of his hair, his bloodshot eyes beheld the tall, black-robed figure standing in the doorway.
The figure stood backlit, neither approaching nor speaking. He simply watched in silence.
That gaze... Lin Wuxie couldn't make out the face, but he could feel those eyes upon him.
It wasn't pity. Nor was it killing intent.
It was three parts indifference, three parts disappointment, and four parts the scrutiny of one frustrated by unrealized potential. Like looking at a disappointing junior, or a work of art that had been sullied.
After what felt like an eternity.
A hoarse, low voice—as if weathered by years—echoed through the deathly silent room:
"Your table manners are utterly disgraceful."
Lin Wuxie's pupils contracted sharply.
The black-robed figure shook his head slightly, his tone carrying a lofty detachment:
"Swallowing blood food raw, without refining the violent energy. Do you think simply eating it gives you power? Foolish."
"At this rate, you won't need to wait until tomorrow. You'll have cultivated yourself into a brainless beast that only knows how to howl."
Every word struck like a heavy hammer, slamming into Lin Wuxie's heart.
The terror of having his secret exposed momentarily overwhelmed even his physical agony.
His greatest secret, the trump card he relied upon for survival—in this mysterious figure's eyes, it was so fragile, so utterly worthless!
"You... ugh..."
Lin Wuxie instinctively tried to resist, to crawl up from the ground and fight for his life.
But the excruciating pain and rigidity of his body left him unable to move even a finger. He could only lie there like a dying dog, gasping for breath.
The black-robed figure seemed to tire of his feeble struggle.
Without another word, he gave a casual flick of his hand.
Clatter.
A white porcelain bottle traced an arc through the air, landing precisely on the filthy mud before Lin Wuxie. It rolled twice and came to rest beside his hand.
Then came the words that struck Lin Wuxie like a thunderbolt, delivered with weightless ease:
"It seems you've only learned the superficial aspects of the inheritance our Master left behind, without grasping its essence."
"...Disgraceful."
Master?!
Inheritance?!
These two words were like twin bolts of lightning, instantly piercing through Lin Wuxie's muddled brain.
The inheritance he had obtained came from an unnamed skeleton discovered in a cave. Apart from a tattered beast-hide scroll and a few dead Gu worms, there had been nothing to identify the remains.
Could it be... that the person before him was a descendant of that skeleton? His... senior martial brother?!
The massive influx of information left Lin Wuxie's mind blank. But with his body on the verge of collapse, he had no time to think further.
That was a lifeline.
Trembling, Lin Wuxie extended his bloody, mangled hand and snatched up the porcelain bottle from the ground, his movements as desperate as if he were seizing his last breath.
He pulled out the stopper and tilted his head back to pour it down.
A bone-piercing chill instantly slid down his throat into his stomach, then exploded outward, flowing through his limbs and bones.
"Hssss—"
That sensation of his soul being torn apart by burning agony receded like a tide under the wash of this cold energy.
The boiling beast blood calmed. The shrieking in his mind vanished. Rationality reclaimed the high ground.
Lin Wuxie gasped heavily, feeling his body return to his control once more.
He slowly pushed himself up, ignoring the foam at the corners of his mouth.
His eyes fixed intently on that mysterious shadow in the doorway, his voice hoarse and laced with deep wariness and probing:
"Who... exactly are you?"