“Alright. I’d better get going.”
Ren turned away from Haitin and the others, flicking his sleeve dismissively.
“Senior, this man… he’s clearly lying. It’s as obvious as daylight in summer that he ordered his minions to attack us. He killed them in front of you to appease your anger, but that doesn’t prove anything. Please… please get rid of him. Otherwise, he’ll attack us again in the future,”
Lin Mei pleaded hastily as Ren was about to leave. She looked at Haitin with a pale face, her eyes reflecting the turmoil in her heart. She had never witnessed such ruthlessness, both toward allies and oneself.
Lin Mei’s fear of Haitin was well-founded, and it was clear she wasn’t the only one in Aksai’s group who felt this way.
‘Idiot,’ Aksai thought to himself, casting a pitying glance at Lin Mei. This young woman had clearly been raised in isolation to be so naïve.
Aksai didn’t fully understand the intricacies between Haan Di and the demonic faction, but he could tell they were playing a game of chess. Both sides had written and unwritten rules, as well as pawns.
The demonic cultivators who had been forced to kneel and beheaded were Haitin’s pawns. Aksai and the others in his group were Ren’s pawns. Haitin and Ren were using their respective pieces to maneuver for an advantage.
Of course, both Haitin and Ren wanted to keep their pawns alive for as long as possible. But their motivation wasn’t care for the pawns themselves. They simply cared about the game. Having more pawns gave them an advantage, allowing them to play longer.
Haitin had been put in check by Ren earlier. Though reluctant, Haitin hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice his pawns to escape checkmate and continue the game.
Aksai’s group was Ren’s pawns. Although Ren had asked about their well-being and personally checked on them, it was more of a formality than genuine concern. It didn’t mean he actually wanted Aksai’s group to survive in the Wild Devil Lands.
Ren’s true concern was the treaty between Haan Di and the three major demonic sects. For some reason, this treaty was at risk of dissolving. His mission was to ensure that didn’t happen.
As long as Haitin created favorable conditions for Ren to ignore the attempted breach of the treaty, Ren was willing to overlook the matter as if it had never occurred.
Did Ren care about Aksai and his group suffering at Haitin’s hands? Absolutely not. However, as the direct disciple of Haan Di’s Core Formation Lord, he cared about upholding the treaty. This treaty was as important to Haan Di as it was to the three major demonic sects.
Ren had already established his dominance by forcing Haitin to chop off his own hand. If he pushed Haitin further, the treaty would be at risk of complete dissolution, which was something Ren couldn’t allow.
Haitin understood this as well. For some reason, he had attacked the groups of cultivators en route to Duya Forest, but he had kept it controlled, retreating quickly when he realized Ren was coming to intercept him. This was why the second wave of demonic cultivators didn’t attack Aksai’s group and instead retreated.
Haitin didn’t push his luck. By executing his own minions and severing his hand, he created the perfect scenario for Ren to overlook the previous act of aggression. It was a tactical retreat in their game of chess, allowing him to continue at the cost of a few insignificant pawns.
Under these circumstances, would Ren provoke Haitin just to ensure the safety of Aksai’s group? Absolutely not. He would wait for Haitin’s next move, using the deaths of Aksai and his group as leverage while ensuring the treaty between Haan Di and the demonic faction remained intact.
It was like a cold war between two countries with a huge border dispute and significant commercial trade. Neither country wanted to be too friendly, but neither wanted a full-scale war, as they valued their economic ties.
Aksai hadn’t been in the Wild Devil Lands long, but his keen perception and prior knowledge allowed him to see through the complex relationship between the two sides.
Aksai wasn’t the only one who could glimpse the truth in Ren and Haitin’s interaction.
However, people like Lin Mei saw the situation in black and white, not grasping the gray areas of human relationships.
***
Just as Aksai had predicted, Ren ignored Lin Mei’s pleas as if he hadn’t heard them.
His flying sword shot up, carrying him into the sky with a speed that defied the eye. In moments, he was gone, disappearing in the same direction from which he had come.
Aksai let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The tension that had gripped the air began to dissipate, but the weight of what had just transpired lingered heavily on everyone’s minds.
Haitin’s brutal display of cunning—or was it mere survival—left an indelible mark on them all.
Haitin, still standing where Ren had left him, glanced down at his severed hand with a look that was almost bored. He bent down and picked up his severed hand with an eerie calmness, almost as if it were a daily occurrence.
His expression didn’t change, but Aksai’s sharp eyes noticed the sudden shift in his aura. It was subtle at first, like a ripple in still water, but then Haitin’s eyes turned pitch black—no whites, no pupils, just an inky darkness that swallowed all light.
A strange energy emanated from Haitin, something far more mysterious than mere cultivation techniques or Spirit spells. Aksai’s brow furrowed as he recognized the familiar yet elusive signature of bloodline energy.
It wasn’t the same kind of essence that most cultivators wielded; it felt raw, primal. The hairs on the back of Aksai’s neck stood up, but he kept his thoughts to himself, observing Haitin in silence.
The others seemed perplexed, unsure of what they were witnessing, but Aksai’s eyes remained fixed on the demonic cultivator.
As Haitin’s blood began to seep from his stump, it wasn’t the bright red of life. Instead, it had turned a deep, oily black, like the ink of some abyssal creature.
Then, in a grotesque display, thin, writhing tentacles sprouted from the blood, wriggling through the air with an unnatural hunger.
At the same time, Haitin’s severed hand underwent a similar transformation. The blackened blood at the edge of the wound seemed alive, morphing into the same slithering tendrils.
With a sickening squelch, the tentacles from his hand latched onto those growing from his stump. The two masses of writhing tendrils coiled around each other like serpents, merging into one until the flesh knitted back together seamlessly.
Aksai’s eyes widened slightly, not in fear, but in mild surprise.
‘This… the demonic cultivators have access to THIS?’
Bloodline power! And it wasn’t the Spirit bloodline but a mortal bloodline that was rooted in one’s genetic inheritance.
The ability to reattach a severed limb so effortlessly, without expensive healing resources or even significant strain, was remarkable.
However, it came at a cost. Aksai could feel it—the toll it took on Haitin’s body, the sudden instability in his aura. His cultivation base wavered for a moment, like a flickering candle, before steadying again.
Though Haitin showed no outward signs of distress, Aksai knew the process had drained him. Bloodline energy was potent but taxing, and recovering from such a loss would require time and the right kind of sustenance.
No matter how powerful or impressive his bloodline abilities were, they couldn’t bypass the fundamental laws of cultivation. They gave certain advantages to bloodline holders. However, they came with their own set of cons as well.
“Well… this should do it. That old man almost made me force my hand.”
Haitin flexed his fingers experimentally, making sure everything was in place.
The wound was gone, no trace of injury remaining, but Aksai could tell the man wasn’t pleased. The loss of bloodline energy, even if temporary, would be a burden. The pain may have been momentary, but the long-term recovery of his bloodline potency would be far more tedious.
Haitin let out a slow breath, his eyes returning to normal as the dark energy faded from the air. He glanced at his reattached hand with a hint of annoyance, as though the entire ordeal had been more of an inconvenience than anything else. Still, he stood tall, not letting his irritation show, his expression once again unreadable.
Aksai couldn’t help but admire the display, even if Haitin was an enemy.
‘Bloodline powers, huh? I wonder if I can turn my Spirit bloodline to take root in my mortal vessel as well. What kind of benefits will I have at that point? What is the difference between a Spirit bloodline and vessel bloodline?
This demonic faction sure is interesting. Far more interesting than the righteous faction.’
The Spirit farmer mused. The others in his group remained on edge, watching Haitin with wide eyes, not fully grasping the magnitude of what they had just witnessed.
Haitin turned to face them, his face calm. He then looked at Aksai and his group and smiled pleasantly at them before asking them in a friendly voice.
“So where were we?”