Chapter 6: 1.6. Dependant

Kaelan notices Chen Wei returning, but this time another man is with him.

As soon as their feet touch the far riverbank, Kaelan stretches his spirit sense toward them.

The new figure instantly reacts, his gaze snapping toward Kaelan’s cliff.

Kaelan narrows his eyes.

So, this one sensed my probe, but he cannot block it.

Kaelan’s spirit sense brushes deeper, tracing the circulation of fire-attribute True Qi through the man’s meridians.

This man is not like Chen Wei.

He is a Master realm martial artist.

The two men arrive beneath the mist-shrouded cliff and kneel.

The older man bows low, his voice firm, “Great Crow Demon, I, Chen Qi, seek your help.”

Kaelan’s crow head pushes through the veil of spiritual energy, his sharp eyes glinting coldly.

His voice floods into their minds, deep and reverberating.

“My help? What kind of help?”

Chen Wei stiffens, his thoughts a storm of confusion.

He doesn’t understand why the village chief dragged him here.

Kaelan’s mind brushes against Chen Qi’s spirit.

Unlike Chen Wei, his spirit resists faintly—stronger, steadier, but still laid bare under Kaelan’s probing.

Chen Qi bows deeper, his forehead pressing to the ground.

“Great Demon, please bestow me and my village your blood, and make us your servants.”

Kaelan freezes, his thoughts halting in surprise.

Blood?

What is this man planning?

He presses harder into Chen Qi’s mind but finds only fragments, ambition wrapped in fire.

Still unsatisfied, Kaelan’s voice rumbles.

“What will you do with my blood?”

Chen Qi’s eyes flash with fervour, his tone solemn and hungry.

“Great Demon, with your blood, I can break through to the Great Master realm.”

Kaelan knows humans rarely break past the Master realm because the breakthrough squeezes out nearly all their innate potential.

After that collapse of potential, only by slowly recovering can they reach the Great Master realm.

Those with divine blood carry extra potential from birth, so they can push past the Master bottleneck where ordinary humans stall.

Those with spiritual roots recover potential far faster because their bodies can absorb and store spiritual energy directly.

A demon’s blood—or blood from any high-level life—might act like divine blood in a human, raising their latent capacity and letting them advance.

Kaelan is not inclined to give his blood away lightly.

He asks plainly, “I can give you and your village my blood—what will I get in return?”

Chen Qi bows deeper and replies, “Our village will serve you for life.”

Kaelan studies Chen Qi’s eyes and guesses the man’s plan: gain power from the blood, rise to Great Master, then one day kill his benefactor to free himself from the bargain.

But Chen Qi does not understand the true danger; every cell of Kaelan’s body contains a sliver of his consciousness.

If Kaelan’s blood enters their bodies, those slivers come with it, able to influence and bind.

In that exchange, the advantage lies with Kaelan—he can gain worship and service while shaping their will from within.

Kaelan feels more arrivals in the air and, from their auras, knows they are Master realm.

He calls down, “Come up.”

Chen Qi and Chen Wei exchange a quick look, and before Chen Wei can object, Chen Qi launches himself in three practised bounds up the rock face and lands on the cliff, eyes wide with awe, fear, and a hunger Kaelan can taste in his spirit.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Chen Wei follows and stands dutifully beside him.

The others hang back, spying from a safe distance beneath the cliff.

Kaelan understands—they came to confirm whether he is real and to measure his strength.

He gives a single caw that cuts across the mist like a blade, and the sound squeezes at the hearts of those watching; one by one, they retreat, unwilling to risk a closer look.

With his sharp vision, he studies every face left on the bank and then threads those images straight into Chen Qi’s mind.

“Do you know them?” he asks.

Chen Qi swallows and replies, “They are martial masters from Qinghe City; they must have come to confirm your existence.”

Kaelan asks, “And what will they do next?”

Chen Qi answers slowly, “The great families and the Tide Whale Gang cannot act freely, but the government may send men to probe your intentions.”

Kaelan listens, then says, “Those families and the gang have no ties to Qi refiners or those with divine blood.”

Chen Qi’s eyes narrow with thought. “The Min family may have. There’s a rumour the eldest daughter of the Min head is a Qi refiner and has joined a Qi-refining sect, but it’s only a rumour.”

From Chen Wei’s mind, Kaelan catches more: it is the sixteenth birthday of Min Xueyao; if the eldest daughter exists, she should appear—sixteen is the year a girl is considered an adult here, and rich families hold ceremonies where immediate relatives come to bless her.

Kaelan considers and then states, “I will give you and your village my blood, but you must gather martial techniques and exercises for me.”

Confusion flashes across Chen Qi’s face. “I will try to collect as many as I can, and I will bring all martial techniques and exercises back from my village.”

Kaelan’s tone firms. “Then be ready to accept my gift.”

Chen Qi’s brow furrows. “Right now?”

He has heard of how divine blood works—how foreign blood can act like divine blood—but he does not know the ritual for bestowal; in his mind, it is an elaborate ceremony.

Kaelan replies plainly, “What more do you need? I will give you my blood to absorb, and it will begin to transform your bodies.”

Chen Qi says, “Only this?”

Kaelan’s gaze sharpens. “Are you going to take my blood or not?”

Chen Qi hesitates, then asks, “Do I have to sit?”

Kaelan answers, “Your wish.”

Chen Qi nods. “Sitting would be better.”

The old man lowers himself onto the ground.

Chen Wei steps closer, placing a palm on his shoulder. “Chief, are you sure?”

Chen Qi exhales slowly. “Chen Wei, I tell you—our family was once powerful, with a supreme martial master. But because of our enemy, we were forced to hide in this backwater. And that enemy still hunts us. To protect ourselves and take revenge, we have no other way.”

Kaelan burns with curiosity but restrains it. He will ask after the transformation is complete, when he can judge whether Chen Qi speaks the truth or falsehood.

From Chen Wei’s unguarded thoughts, Kaelan learns this is the first time he has heard the story.

The village holds eighty per cent bearing the surname Chen, yet the chief and elders always stressed most were not related, encouraging intermarriage between households.

If Chen Qi’s story is true, then the villagers are all kin, and their unions have been between bloodlines of their own family. In the ordinary world, this would bring disease and weakness.

But in this world, while inbreeding still risks disease, it also preserves blood purity and raises the chance of gifted descendants.

Chen Qi says, “I am ready.”

A single feather slips free from Kaelan’s wing, twisting in the mist, and in the awed eyes of Chen Qi and Chen Wei, it wriggles, shrinks into a small black ball, and drops into Chen Qi’s open palm.

The black orb feels like damp clay against his skin.

Chen Qi swallows, voice trembling, “Lord—should I eat it?”

He lifts his hand toward his mouth, uncertain.

Kaelan answers in the quiet of their minds, “You can eat it, but the best way is to cut a wound and let it enter through the wound; the transformation will be faster.”

Chen Qi drags his nail across his palm, splitting the skin, and drops the black ball into the bleeding wound.

The orb instantly drinks his blood, writhing like a living thing, changing form before sinking beneath his flesh.

The cut seals within seconds, but Chen Qi doubles over, teeth clenched as if chewing on iron, sweat pouring down his face.

Chen Wei blurts out, “Chief, are you ok?”

Kaelan’s voice enters his mind, calm and weighty, “He is in pain because my blood is remaking his body.”

Chen Qi collapses, body convulsing, muscles tearing and rebuilding as Kaelan watches with detached curiosity, then raises an energy barrier around him so he will not thrash off the cliff.

Kaelan turns his gaze to Chen Wei, who kneels in distress beside the barrier.

“Go hunt demon beasts for your chief,” Kaelan instructs. “He will be hungry when the transformation ends.”

Chen Wei bites his lip, nods once, glances at his writhing chief, then leaps down the cliff and vanishes into the trees.

Inside the barrier, Chen Qi’s veins glow faintly black, Kaelan’s genetic essence threading into his blood, strengthening marrow, stretching meridians, thickening his life force.

The frail breath of an ageing master realm gives way to a new, deeper rhythm, as if his very essence has been rewound to youth.

His blood surges, boiling within him, each beat carrying the sliver of Kaelan’s will deeper into his body.

An hour later, Chen Wei returns, dragging the carcass of a demon deer on his shoulder, only to find Chen Qi unconscious, lying still but radiating a faint, oppressive aura.

Kaelan lowers the barrier and commands, “Carry him down, prepare the deer, and wait for him to wake.”

Chen Wei bows, lifts his chief onto his back, and descends the cliff with the deer.

Smoke drifts in soft coils from the fire below as Kaelan’s eyes shut, his mind slipping into the vast ocean of his spirit space.

He stands before the glowing lattice of spell matrixes, his gaze sinking into thought.

Since his breakthrough, the sea has widened, the depth grown heavier, yet the question gnaws at him—should he weave new matrixes, or refine the old?

His focus settles on the core matrix, the heart of his spirit, where the fusion of Iron Feathers and Stone Body did not erase the spells but instead reshaped them into a talent spell.

Unlike ordinary matrixes, talent spells cannot be removed; they are etched into him, bound as deeply as breath itself.

Normal spells take seconds to call forth, but talent spells respond instantly, as if they are a reflex born in the blood.

And he knows—every refinement of a talent spell is also a refinement of the core matrix, polishing the foundation of his spirit itself.

The truth settles in his heart: new matrixes mean little compared to strengthening the core.

Only by pushing the core forward can he break through life’s levels, step beyond this world, and reunite with his true body.

But for that, he will need new markings, for the ones he holds now cannot carry him further.

A quiet sigh leaves him, his eyes opening as dawn spills over the cliff, painting him in gold.

He must hunt more demon beasts, harvest the markings buried in their bodies.

And perhaps—just perhaps—the martial techniques of this world may spark the inspiration he needs.

So, he decides to wait on the cliff for a couple of months.

His sharp gaze drifts downward, where Chen Qi stirs from slumber, eyes fluttering open as the new power within him breathes its first.