Perfect. Then we slow everything dow
I didn't feed that night.
Not on animals.
Not on people.
I went back to the outer dormitories and lay on my stone bed, staring at the ceiling while the academy settled into silence.
The hunger was there.
Quiet.
Persistent.
Like a hand resting on my chest.
Status:
Hunger: Stable (Managed)
"Managed doesn't mean gone," I murmured.
Correct.
Moonlight spilled through the narrow window. Somewhere outside, a disciple laughed. Another coughed. Life moved on.
I clenched my jaw.
Halfing.
The word still felt wrong.
I checked my status again.
Race: Halfing
Restrictions: Active
Blood Affinity: Dormant
Dormant meant sleeping.
Not dead.
"What happens if it wakes up?" I asked.
That depends on you.
That answer annoyed me more than silence.
The next morning, I joined the outer disciples for physical conditioning.
No qi. No techniques. Just running stone paths with weighted rings strapped to our arms and legs.
It should have been exhausting.
It wasn't.
My breathing stayed steady. My muscles burned—but recovered almost instantly.
The instructor noticed.
He frowned.
"You," he barked, pointing his staff at me. "You ran too smoothly. Name."
"Lin Yuan," I replied, keeping my expression neutral.
"What realm?"
"…Mortal."
A few disciples snickered.
The instructor stared harder, then grunted. "Don't get cocky. Bodies lie. The heavens don't."
I bowed my head obediently.
Inside, the system commented:
Observation:
Host physical output exceeds Mortal baseline by 312%.
"Shut up," I muttered.
Suggestion declined.
Later that day, I passed the medical hall.
A sharp scent drifted through the open doors.
Blood.
My steps slowed without my permission.
Inside, disciples sat on wooden benches, sleeves rolled up, injuries being treated by senior apprentices.
A drop of red slid down someone's wrist.
The hunger stirred.
Not violently.
Curiously.
Notice:
Ambient blood exposure detected.
Hunger increase: Minimal.
I forced myself to keep walking.
Each step felt deliberate.
Heavy.
This is the line, I told myself.
I don't cross it.
Behind me, someone staggered.
"Ah—!"
A young disciple nearly collapsed, his face pale. A healer caught him just in time.
"Blood loss," she said. "Too much training. Sit."
The disciple nodded weakly.
I stood frozen.
I could feel it.
The excess essence leaking. Wasted. Dissipating into the air.
Opportunity detected.
"No," I whispered.
Clarification:
No physical contact required.
"…What?"
As a Halfing, you may passively absorb trace essence within close proximity.
This will not harm the target.
My heart pounded.
"That's… stealing."
It is recycling.
I didn't move.
Seconds passed.
The hunger pressed gently, insistently—but it didn't spike.
Finally, I took one step closer.
Nothing happened.
Another step.
Warmth brushed my skin. Faint. Like standing near a fire.
Trace essence absorbed.
No harm detected.
No chime.
No stat point.
Just… relief.
I exhaled shakily.
"…So that's how it starts," I murmured.
Incorrect.
That is how it stays controlled.
I left the medical hall immediately.
That night, I sat on the roof of the outer dormitory, legs dangling over the edge.
The academy glowed softly beneath me. Lanterns. Courtyards. Lives unfolding.
I felt stronger.
Not dramatically.
But steadily.
Level: 10
Progress to Level 11: 4%
Four percent.
From scraps.
From restraint.
From not crossing lines.
"…A thousand chapters," I said quietly. "That's how long this could take, isn't it?"
Yes.
The system didn't joke this time.
And that is acceptable.
I watched the moon rise.
The hunger slept.
For now.