Chapter 122: Echoes of the Bloodline
The wind stirred restlessly through the courtyard, sweeping fallen leaves across the stone floor and rustling the oak's high canopy. Leaves drifted like feathers beneath the moonlit sky, dancing in the cold breath of night.
Su Tianhao stood amidst the windfall, the frigid breeze billowing his robes as the chaos of battle slowly faded around him.
Before him, Blood Grin's corpse lay motionless—limbs twisted unnaturally, lifeless eyes staring into nothing. Blood pooled around him, dark and heavy, painting the ground with a silence more chilling than the wind itself.
Shin.
Su Tianhao sheathed his sword in one smooth motion, golden eyes fixed on his fallen enemy with an unreadable expression.
'Strange... I just killed someone, yet I feel nothing.'
His brows furrowed at the thought.
He was only sixteen years old. He had slain countless spirit beasts—but this was the first time he had taken a human life. One would expect guilt. Fear. At least unease. But instead there was only indifference.
'Is it because he was evil? That he deserved to die?'
Then—like a jolt of lightning—a memory resurfaced.
"This is just like in the mysterious realm," Su Tianhao murmured, eyes widening.
When his mother's spiritual will had drawn him into that desolate wasteland and forced him to witness a large-scale bloodbath, even then—surrounded by carnage—he had felt nothing. At the time he had brushed it off, believing his calm came from inherited memories or the ancient resilience of his bloodline.
But now he wasn't so sure.
'To remain indifferent in the face of death... this isn't just inherited memory.'
His thoughts sharpened.
'It's my dragon bloodline.'
He inhaled slowly as the realization settled like a stone in his chest.
'Dragons are natural born killers. I never thought that part of me would awaken so soon.'
His gaze dropped to his hands. They trembled faintly. His breathing grew shallow—uneven.
Then—
ROOOOAR!!!
A primal dragon roar erupted from deep within his being—resonating through his bones, vibrating through his bloodline like a war drum struck from within.
His eyes widened in shock.
Then it happened.
His golden eyes shifted—deepening into a radiant glow that lit the surrounding air in a soft golden hue. His pupils narrowed, becoming sharp and slanted, carrying a commanding, ancient authority.
Dragon eyes.
Su Tianhao remained unaware of the transformation, his thoughts spinning rapidly.
Before he could make sense of it—
Whoosh!
The vortex in his dantian roared to life. A violent storm of spiritual energy surged from within. Qi and blood vitality boiled like molten rivers beneath the surface of his skin.
'This—' His brows furrowed tightly. 'This is exactly what happened two weeks ago.'
Back then, on the brink of death, his devouring ability had activated on its own—consuming the world around him and saving his life. But this time there was no danger. No immediate threat.
Just power.
SWOOSH!
A gale burst through the courtyard as a powerful suction force erupted outward. The calm wind became a storm—leaves scattering like fleeing birds, the great oak trembling from its roots, branches thrashing against the moonlit sky. The earth quaked. Dust spiraled into clouds.
Su Tianhao stood frozen at the center of it, azure robes whipping violently around him.
He turned—and his eyes found the shattered window of his home.
His reflection stared back.
Eyes like molten gold. Pupils sharp and slanted. Hair tossed by the wind like coiling serpents. His entire figure carrying a power and presence that didn't feel like his own.
The dragon was staring back at him.
And it terrified him.
Then he felt it—a powerful surge of energy rushing into his body like a raging tide. Not spiritual energy. He knew this feeling.
Essence.
Su Tianhao turned sharply. The swirling vortex within his dantian had begun drawing Blood Grin's essence from the broken corpse—dense, blood-red wisps of ethereal energy tearing through the air in steady waves, greedily devoured by the Heavenly Devouring Dragon Physique.
Su Tianhao's heart seized.
'This goes against everything I believe in.'
"No—I need to stop this!" he roared, his voice echoing across the courtyard—fierce, unyielding.
But no matter how hard he resisted, the power within refused to be silenced. The bloodline's hunger was insatiable. It was as if even in death, Blood Grin's existence called for punishment—and his bloodline agreed. Worse still, even his own heart didn't reject it.
So how could mere willpower suppress what both blood and spirit had already accepted?
Cold sweat drenched his back despite the frigid wind.
'It's the Heart Demon,' he realized, breath sharp.
When he looked back toward Blood Grin's body, his chest clenched.
The corpse was shriveling—rapidly. Muscles once taut and strong collapsed into bone. Skin withered like dry paper. And with each passing moment, as the essence was consumed, the gnawing weight in Su Tianhao's chest—the hatred and internal chaos—began to ease.
The Heart Demon was dissolving.
But that wasn't all.
His cultivation surged upward, the bottleneck he had struggled with for weeks shattering under the force of pure refined essence. The Supreme Dragon Essence Refinement Art circulated on its own, deepening and stabilizing. His comprehension of Killing Sword Sense leaped forward. His mastery of the Shadow-Splitting Flash elevated as if guided by invisible hands.
Faced with a truth he could neither fight nor flee, Su Tianhao closed his eyes and clenched his fists—letting whatever needed to happen, happen.
Only when the winds stilled and the devouring finally subsided did he open his eyes.
Blood Grin was gone.
No corpse. No bones. Not even ash.
As if the man had been erased from existence.
Even when devouring spirit beasts, there was always a dried husk left behind. But this—nothing. No trace. No proof he had ever stood there.
That, more than anything else, sent a chill down Su Tianhao's spine.
The vortex within his dantian roared to life once more, transforming his body into a living furnace—rapidly refining the devoured essence into flawless spiritual energy that surged through his system in powerful waves. Deep rumbling echoed from within as the residual will left in Blood Grin's essence struggled against the process. Under the terrifying refinement force of the Heavenly Devouring Dragon Physique, resistance was futile.
The chaotic essence broke apart and purified, flooding his meridians and dantian in cycle after cycle—each loop more efficient than the last.
Su Tianhao's mind locked onto the Supreme Dragon Essence Refinement Art, guiding the rising energy with practiced precision through the patterns described in the technique, pushing steadily toward the Martial Adept Realm's threshold.
Then he noticed it.
His control over the art had become fluid—flawless. Each cycle felt intuitive, almost natural.
He had reached Great Success in the technique. And his mastery was deepening.
He lowered himself into a seated lotus position, dark hair whipping around him as he closed his eyes and shut off his senses from the world. The refinement continued for several long minutes, his aura building steadily with every breath.
Then the Shrouded Dragon Veil released.
His Peak-stage Martial Disciple aura exploded outward, layered with a draconic presence that dominated the courtyard like a force of nature.
BOOM!
A thunderous sound erupted from within him, shaking the air. Phantom dragon roars echoed across Fei Wu Quarter—its empty, desolate nature the only reason such a phenomenon passed without causing panic.
In the quiet aftermath, Su Tianhao's eyes opened slowly—revealing majestic dragon eyes glowing with divine clarity.
He clenched his fists, the rush of newfound strength flooding every fiber of his being.
"1st level Martial Adept Realm. Supreme Dragon Essence Refinement Art—Perfection."
Two major breakthroughs. Both critical steps toward the Untainted Body.
Impurities seeped from every pore—black grime clinging to his skin like a second layer. His robes soaked through, stained with the evidence of the transformation. The pungent stench hung heavy in the air. But instead of disgust, Su Tianhao felt only satisfaction.
The Untainted Body.
Achieved.
His chest rose and fell steadily, each breath measured and calm. His golden eyes dimmed, the draconic glow fading back to their usual hue.
Then a jolt of awareness struck him—and unfamiliar memories surged into his mind. Visions of hatred, blood, torment, and death.
"Blood Grin's memories?" His eyes widened. "I can devour memories too?"
But there was no time to dwell.
Thanks to the inherited memories of his parents, Su Tianhao was no stranger to housing foreign consciousness in his mind.
'If I can withstand the memories of immortal beings... what is a Martial Adept to me?'
With sheer mental force, he suppressed the dark tide—sealing away Blood Grin's experiences before they could stain him further.
'I don't need to see that madman's life,' he thought grimly. 'The bloodline is burden enough.'
But it wasn't over.
Just as he settled, another wave of memories surged through him—foreign, yet oddly familiar. He clenched his head, veins bulging at his temples. It felt as though his skull was being pried open from within.
After several grueling moments, the realization struck.
"The third layer of my inherited memories... has unlocked."
His voice was hoarse, breath shallow, body drenched in sweat.
And still it kept coming.
Sword insights unraveled. His understanding of Killing Sword Sense deepened—the veil of obscurity torn away, exposing truths once unreachable. The Nine Heavens Sword Scripture resonated within his mind, and within it, the Shadow-Splitting Flash advanced again. The path to its third form lay before him—so clear it felt tangible. Great Success was close. The Shrouded Dragon Veil stirred and echoed in harmony with his bloodline.
Countless changes flooded his mind and body—layer upon layer, profound and unstoppable.
"AAAAAAAH!"
Su Tianhao's scream tore through the night—raw, guttural, echoing off the stone walls. He convulsed violently on the cold courtyard floor, his body writhing as agony surged through his mind like molten steel. Invisible needles stabbing deep into his soul with every pulse. His vision blurred. His thoughts fractured. His very being felt like it was unraveling.
Then—silence.
His body went still, collapsing where he lay. His chest rose and fell faintly.
The moon hung high above, casting its pale glow upon him. The wind whispered through the trembling oak, its leaves falling like silver feathers onto the stone floor. The world watched—silent, solemn—as if bearing witness to the end of one life.
And the beginning of something far greater.