Qi surged. From the Dantian, to the red core of hedonistic brutality, then to the blade filled with the blood and will of thousands. And then back again.
It had never been just about winning— no battle ever was; it was about proving that his path was more true, that his training, his efforts, and his will were stronger. And the same held true for his opponent. The weight of risking one’s life in battle was what gave depth and meaning to every minute movement, making each swing an ode to the mastery they had achieved. This, Alex believed— had always felt deep within—, was the essence of his combat and the purpose of swordsmanship. A battle where a misplaced finger, a single misstep, could bring death. It was this ever-present danger that made the need for mastery all the more essential, and the meaning behind every strike all the more significant, it allowed life and death to intertwine in the rhythm of the battle from start to end. There was a purity to it, a stripping away of all excess. Overcoming the absurdity of existence itself by forging meaning in the clash of their blades.
His energy felt animalistic, untamed, and one with the ruthless will within Eclipse. The blade had merely been a weapon in his hand, but now felt like a living thing. It trembled with hunger, vibrating as though it demanded blood, but he wouldn’t allow it to control him.
He felt the core thrum within him, too, its power humming as it synchronized with his body. Unlike the violent surge of raw bloodlust he’d anticipated, the energy that flowed from the Spirit Beast Core was far more nuanced—sharp, like a blade unsheathed. It spoke of dominance, not just over his own will, but over the blood itself.
As the core's energy settled, Eclipse began to respond, vibrating in his hand as if eager to feed. His grip tightened on the hilt as a new sense of control washed over him—something far more dangerous than simple rage. The blood was not merely a tool for destruction, it was a resource he could wield, through his beast core, it could become an extension of his very will.
Experimentally, Alex focused on the thrumming he sensed buried deep within the blade. It felt like a faint breeze, newly detectable under his command, waiting. It’s blood, he realised with muted shock. The blood of thousands lingered within the blade, faint and distant, like the thinnest mist clinging to the edge of dawn, barely detectable. The blood rested deep, its dormant force buried under layers of metal, detectable only when sought by those who could sense it. The blood moved faintly, like a swarm, unified and restless beneath the metal, waiting to be directed.
With a thought, he drew a thread of it to the surface, sharpening Eclipse's edge and extending its surface by a mere inch, enough to sense its power. The weapon grew colder, more lethal as he realized he could manipulate the blood itself—direct it, maybe even form it into tiny projectiles, lethal and precise. For the first time, he understood the true potential of the core.
[Technique: Blood Arts (Beast Core) gained!]
Blood manipulation surged and sanguine drops rose from Eclipse’s metal, granting the blade new properties: extending its edge into a razor-sharp arc of red and forming a thin film that would exacerbate wounds with its next cut.
Lui Xan stood in Alex’s perception, with time slowed to a crawl, engulfed in a deadly aura of red and gold Qi. The Qi horns that formed above his head slowly hummed with lethality, waves rippling in frozen time. Its energy was monstrous, piercing through all elements it came into contact with. Alex knew, in that moment, there was no way to avoid Lui’s next strike. His body was too slow and his stats were too low. It would land. He was unsure of how effective his next strike would be once empowered with his Qi and the Dao. But it had worked once before, hadn’t it? Back when he had encountered a cultivator for the very first time and discovered true the nature of his glitched skill. The Dao could alter the very fabric of reality in a way he had yet to see mana or qi achieve, and although the first cultivator he had faced, Jun li, had displayed some resistance towards his Dao-infused attacks, Alex suspected that amongst the weapons within his arsenal, the Dao was currently the most powerful.
His first strike against Lui Xan’s cheek had revealed that his current strength and stats could at best only inflict minor damage on the youth—just a scratch. His comparative strength would not allow any attack he made to be substantial, the best he could do would be to target a single major artery close to the skin and hope it would be enough to fell a cultivator. But maybe my Dao could do more? Make the cut deeper, or more deadly? It has to, he thought with grim conviction. If his attack failed, Lui Xan's guard would be heightened and the soul defence offered by Thanatos’ Sovereign would likely be shattered.
Alex's hands gripped Eclipse tighter. It was all or nothing. Do or die. There would be no second chances.
As his perception of time increased, he activated every Qi technique he had learned at once; the Charging Bull Breathing Technique, the Bull’s Foundation Stance, The Stampeding Footwork Primer, and the Steel Horn Strike, one immediately after the other. Qi surged into his chest with a sharp breath, the breathing technique filling his lungs and circulating through his meridians with the single rhythmic breath. His legs pushed off the ground with explosive force, the Qi in his limbs propelling him forward at an incredible speed.
In one seamless motion, Alex became pure movement.
His focus narrowed on Lui Xan’s form, and through the haze of battle, Alex could feel the rhythm of his opponent’s blood with every movement, as if drawn to it. He felt a pull deep within, almost instinctual, urging him to draw more from it, to manipulate the flow, to tear it wider.
His thoughts honed in on the sensation, Eclipse guiding his movements as if they shared a single will. With another flick, he focused on the blood that dripped from Lui Xan’s wound, not letting it fall uselessly to the ground. Instead, he felt it coalesce, gathering into tight, dense spheres at his command. Each shot forward, sharp as needles, and aimed true—straight for the eyes.
The impact was undeniable.
Lui Xans eyes closed defensively, and his movements halted as Alex siezed his blood within his grip for a fraction of a second.
Alex swung, then, intent on capitalising on the opening his core had created for him.
His body moved beyond the limits of each technique, his blade cutting through the air faster than his eye could follow as he channelled the Dao into the tip of the weapon, condensing it to a point, much like he had learned to condense his domain. The strike would be powerful, precise, and entirely different from anything the sect’s manuals had ever taught him. Instead of striking with his fist, or with a stab and slash of his sword, Alex channelled his Qi through pathways the technique required and took all of the techniques to a place its creators never envisioned. He performed an entirely different move than all present had anticipated or could even recognise. It was a move he had never used outside the dojo.
One taken from Earth. From Koryu.
Koryu-Kenjutsu specialised in war techniques, designed solely for life-and-death situations. And among their many techniques, sacrifice techniques were among the most prominent. They were moves where a practitioner would deliberately receive a blow, usually in a non-lethal area, in order to deliver a killing strike. Alex sought to employ a sacrifice technique, one simply called;
The dropping cut.
The dropping cut was the defining technique of the Ittō-ryū school, a style born from battlefields. The practitioner’s sword would meet the opponent's attack from above, like a hawk diving through the air, focused, and unstoppable. It would not just block or evade—it would cut straight through, finding a gap, and breaking through the opponent’s strike with precision and timing from above. The practitioner had to be prepared to accept a glancing blow to a non-vital area, like the arm or shoulder, knowing that this sacrifice would allow them to land a fatal cut to a critical point like the opponent's head or neck. The willingness to take such risks, to expose oneself momentarily, was what gave the technique its edge, as it mirrored the calculated chaos of nature, where survival and defeat coexisted like opposites, inseparable. The principle was one of perfect timing—to strike in the moment when the opening was created and the opponent's defences faltered, much like the crack in a dam that allowed the flood to rush through.
As the opponent’s sword would draw near, the practitioner would step into the attack, using the power of both of their swords to redirect the opponent’s blade while following through with a powerful, cutting strike. The key would be in the commitment and positioning of the body, ensuring that even though the opponent may land a blow, only the practitioner's strike will be fatal.
Alex twisted to make it so.
He shot forward with his blade held high, not to dodge or parry, but to meet the attack head-on. His Qi flowed seamlessly through his body, synchronized perfectly with the motion. He allowed Lui Xan’s attack to break past his guard and draw near to his vitals, but in return, Alex’s blade came down in a single, uninterrupted arc, aimed directly at Lui Xan’s exposed neck. As Alex had swung, his Qi concentrated into the edge of the sword, then the very tip, amplifying the strike. His Dao soon followed and took it further.
Through the Dao, something immensely profound reached out to him, its claws reaching for his soul— An acceptance of both life and death. The two forces were not at odds, but part of the same flow, two sides of the same coin. In the midst of battle, he saw that conflict and harmony coexisted, that survival and death were intertwined. He could sense the endless striving that filled the universe, the relentless drive for evolution that shaped every action, every decision. His movements flowed naturally, in sync with the universe, as if every action was part of larger, cosmic wills. He embraced both life and death as necessary parts of the same struggle, without attachment to either outcome.
If he died here in this battle, it would simply mean that his training, his path, and his very will had been incorrect. That was all.
The thought didn’t fill him with fear—it gave even more weight to his actions. Every decision was now imbued with purpose, as if the entirety of his life had been building to this moment.
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The bite of blade against skin snapped him back to the present as his sword bit through Lui Xan’s defences— a shallow cut, drawing blood as it passed through hardened skin, muscle and blood cells. Then Lui Xan’s strike reached Alex.
The blow hit. Hard.
Alex’s body absorbed the impact. The damage transferred, and he felt the resistance of both souls stored in Thanatos’ Sovereign crumble to nothing. Then the weight behind the impact sent him rocketing across the cavern. Tumbling until he impacted a far wall. He felt the pain radiating through his chest, a sharp burst that resonated from his chest to his limbs. But he didn’t fight it. He welcomed it.
Blood pooled beneath the skin, pressure building at the point of contact, but Alex’s mind remained clear. This was the price of mastery.
In that suspended moment, he felt free.
***
Lui Xan rose slowly, a smug smirk curling on his lips, victory radiating from his stance like a predator standing over its fallen prey. "Weak," he muttered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Not even a scratch this time. I’m surprised someone as fragile as you even dared to come this far." The words lingered in the stillness around him, carrying the weight of his perceived dominance.
The bestial red-and-gold Qi that had encircled him moments ago began to fade, leaving the air still and heavy. He turned his back on Alex without a second thought, his focus shifting toward Jin. "Has he even received a world treasure yet?" he sneered. "To be this weak?"
Jin’s cold eyes followed Lui Xan’s movements, unreadable, yet the faintest curl of amusement tugged at one corner of his lips, too small to be anything but intentional. Behind him, Lui Xan’s two companions shrank back, their faces frozen in expressions of sudden horror.
Lui Xan paused, frowning in confusion. His speech slurred as his hand curiously brushed against his neck, fingers grazing a wetness that hadn’t been there before. The sensation brought a new awareness, and he raised his hand to examine the thin line that now ran across his throat.
His eyes widened. The realisation hit him with all the force of inevitability—he had been cut, silently, perfectly. His knees buckled, and without a word, he collapsed, lifeless.
In the distance, the rubble shifted. Alex rose slowly from the cracked basalt and stone, standing amidst the broken remains of their battleground. There there was no need to consider survival or purpose any longer. What remained was his will, etched into the battlefield, asserted through the death of his opponent.
***
“You know… I actually did forget to give you a world treasure yesterday.” Jin spoke somewhat sheepishly as he approached Alex.
Damn right you forgot, Alex thought, rubbing at a phantom pain his back. His spine had fractured when he’d crashed into the wall and he’d been forced to strain his Dao to heal it. Without healing potions, or his Dao’s healing application, it could very nearly have been the end of his journey.
Jin reached Alex, rubbing the back of his head. “That makes your victory all the more impressive. You’re not even empowered.”
At his words, the girl and stocky youth who had followed Lui Xan halted mid-step. Their mouths hung slightly open, disbelief clear in the widening of their eyes. They shared a brief glance, wide-eyed as if silently communicating a realisation that struck them both. Alex watched them closely, their wariness becoming more evident with each second that passed. He could feel their tension, like a pair of hunters that had stumbled upon a juvenile dragon before it had grown its wings. They regarded him warily, as one would regard a land mine. They shared another glance between themselves, and Alex could practically see the gears churning in their minds, wondering if he was still capable of battle. So they’re both considering eliminating me before I get my world treasure and become empowered—whatever that means… It probably means the world treasures boost cultivator's strength, somehow, he reasoned, it might explain why they’re so much stronger than everyone else, he concluded while eyeing the pair in return. It looks like they still can’t decide if killing me is worth the risk. Let’s make the choice for them, then, he decided, placing his free hand on the hilt of his blade.
Alex exhaled slowly, his hand slipping into the folds of his robe. The movement was subtle, almost casual, yet deliberate. Hidden beneath the fabric, his fingers summoned a small golden globe from his Inventory, feeling its cool surface press into his palm. His passive domain had given him near omniscience, and although he couldn’t completely visualise the items within his domain in its dormant state, he could vaguely feel their shapes, as though he was searching with a limb in the dark, using nothing but touch. He drew out the globe with an air of ease, the motion smooth as though he had retrieved it from a hidden pocket.
A faint reflection caught the soft light of the cavern, but Alex kept the globe's patterns mostly concealed. “I’ve got a world treasure too,” he said, his voice steady and casual, as if the object meant nothing. His eyes met theirs, unwavering. “But I haven’t used it. Fighting without it sharpens my skills.”
He stepped forward, unsheathing his bloodless blade. The cold steel reflected the cavern’s shifting lights, but it seemed weightier than before.
"You can die now, if you’d like. Or you can follow. It makes no difference to me.” His voice cut through the air, clear and unwavering. Willing to face any outcome. "Will you stand against me, or will you follow?
The silence between them stretched for a moment, filled with unspoken thoughts. They both hesitated, the decision swirling in their minds as they measured the risks. Then, slowly, they stepped back. The girl shifted her stance first, signalling her acceptance. The stocky youth followed, eyes still wary but his decision clear.
Jin’s laughter cut through the tension, loud and unapologetic. “Good. If you’re going to take action, you have to see it through to the end. Thoroughly.” He smiled at Alex approvingly, though Alex wasn’t sure it was the type of approval he agreed with. “Let’s go,” Jin said.
The four of them moved forward together. Alex’s steps were steady as the uneven ground crunched beneath his feet. He turned, his gaze lingering briefly on Lui Xan’s body, lifeless and still. The reality of what he had done washed over him, but strangely what he felt wasn’t regret. Just caution. The influence of his spirit beast core had been strong. Too strong. But it had faded the instant he’d crashed into the wall, and he could think clearly now, no longer moved by its sway. At the time, he had felt like he was under the influence of some drug, his emotions heightening beyond anything he’d ever felt, boosting his aggression and desires. It felt like super steroids, except in the moment it wanted nothing but blood and battle… he recalled a brief state of pure bloodlust that had filled him. Though he believed that not every warrior he faced would be deserving of death— To Alex, such a blanket rule was immature and devoid of humanity. Still, he didn’t entirely disagree with some of the thoughts he had held while in that heightened state of influence. It had still touched upon things that had long since bubbled beneath his surface, buried. It had even influenced his connection to the Dao.
The beast core‘s pretty dangerous, isn’t it? Alex realised. He had slain many, but this time it was different. Aside from his first encounter with a cultivator, Lui Xan was the closest thing to a human he had ever taken down. Lui Xan had been young, far younger than Jun Li. And he sensed something deep and dark within the blood buried in eclipse.
The experience had changed him, slightly. He had been prepared to die, and perhaps Lui Xan had been too. But he hadn’t anticipated how it would feel. He felt terrible, worse than he’d ever felt. But he also felt amazing— and alive, knowing that his path, will and efforts had overcome an opponent he was never supposed to beat. He understood now that war wasn’t a curse. It was the creator of all things and gave birth to change. Conflict wasn’t something to be feared—it was the crucible in which true mastery was forged. In a fight to the death, it became the means of transformation, where every clash of swords gave birth to change and meaning. Life and death weren’t separate forces; they were intertwined, inseparable in the flow of the fight. His actions were part of something larger, part of the eternal struggle that had defined existence since the beginning of time.
[Dao: ‘True Immortality’ - Progress 1.2 > 1.3%]
Blood Arts? Alex thought, still reading the words. What the hell is that? It looks it came from the spirit beast core and merged all of the Qi techniques I learned with kenjutsu’s dropping cut, the sacrifice technique. He had no idea such a thing was possible, but it stood to reason. If Changing a technique altered its very nature and function, then the process of creating new techniques was fairly simple. Normal cultivators would not dare, as utilising them one wrong move or wrong pathway was almost guaranteed to cause Qi deviation, madness, or death. But Alex didn’t have that problem, as once he learned a technique the system would store its functions. As long as he followed each individual technique’s Qi pathways in the way they were originally intended, he could merge compatible techniques in any way he saw fit. If he manipulated the Qi pathways however, his life would be in jeopardy. His domain and spirit beast core taken from the blood beast, had allowed him to sense Lui Xans biology in great detail while manipulating the surrounding blood and targeting a weak point, but without the Dao or his system, he strongly doubted his ability to win. There was no question Lui Xan’s beast core would allow him access to some form of blood techniques, but without a system to streamline the process, the others would have to stumble in the dark, slowly and carefully discovering what they were truly capable of. I can still improve the merged techniques and even the beast core— there’s so much more to learn. It’s too early, and that had been way too close, if I’d missed or if I’d have miss-timed seizing his blood, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. I need to improve so much more, he decided.
“Where should we go?” Zheng Yi asked, her voice steady yet carrying a hint of uncertainty. Her shoulders shifted, preparing to move but hesitant as her eyes searched each corner of the long and distant depths of the cavern, before finally gazing up to stare at the distant slit high above them, higher than any tower.
Jin turned and lifted his hand, his movement precise. Alex witnessed the action draw a thin layer of Qi, a small wave that erupted from his palm to wash over them in a soft and subtle spray. Contrary to what his eyes told him, with the omniscience granted to him by his domain, he felt something much stronger. The Qi that poured from Jim’s palm was not a mere spray— it filled his domain, pressing against it like a flood seeking to burst through, erupting from his palm like a tsunami. Though Alex couldn’t see its entirety, he sensed the energy filling every corner of his domain like a lake from a waterfall, reaching far beyond his line of sight. Alex felt its pressure settle over them, expanding across the place like a slow, spreading wave. He suspected that it stretched to reach through the entire lower portion of the cavern they found themselves in.
Alex sensed that the energy didn’t stop at the edges of the rocks it encountered. It poured into the sediment, seeping into every crack in the stone, as if the very ground beneath them drank it in.
“There.” Jin pointed toward the distance, where the jagged rock formations and magma swirled together in glowing rivers. “There’s a spirit beasts nest that way.”
Alex followed the line of Jin’s finger, his gaze tracing the rocks, their molten cores glowing like veins under the surface of heated skin. That tracking technique he just pulled shouldn’t be possible—not for the size of his dantian, Alex thought with concern. Jin might be more trouble than he’s worth… What’s his secret?
The small size of his dantian didn’t match the weight it carried. Like a mountain under a thin layer of earth. The energy pressed in on itself, tight like a spring, compact, far beyond what it should be. Power hiding in plain sight, like a blade concealed within silk. It was almost familiar. Secrets sitting just out of view. Alex felt it now, clearer than before, the tension, the restraint. The energy under his skin compressed and trembling.
Zheng Yi nodded slowly, her twisted back cracking as she straightened herself fully. "And when that’s done?" she asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips with thoughts of clearing the test.
The stocky youth, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, responding before Jin could, his eyes shined with warm calculation and cold rage. "We find out who did this to us. And then we take everything they have." All present seemed to agree.
At his words, the four headed deeper into the cavern. And some time later, in the distance far behind them, the cavern rang with the sound of soft steps that followed carefully and cautiously, observing the youths in its den.