First Blood

The forest, a familiar sanctuary of shadow and silence, welcomed Kai's return. He moved through the trees, the Ethereal Katana humming faintly at his side, a predator seeking prey, not for sustenance, but for… materials.

He needed blood. Not just any blood, but the blood of monsters, the life essence that would fuel the newly acquired Blood Techniques. He had learned, from the scrolls taken from them, that the potency of these techniques depended on the quality of the blood used. Animal blood, or the blood of low-rank monsters, would yield only a fraction of their true power. He needed something… stronger.

He found them near a stagnant pool, a pack of Razorback Boars, their thick hides and sharp tusks a formidable defense for most cultivators. But for Kai, they were merely… ingredients.

He moved like a phantom, Shadow's Embrace concealing him amongst the trees, his approach silent, deadly. River's Flow, enhanced by the whispers of sword qi, flashed through the air, a silver blur that left three boars lifeless before the others could even react.

He worked quickly, efficiently, draining the blood from the fallen beasts, collecting it in vials he had prepared earlier. He ignored the coppery tang, the visceral nature of his task. This was not butchery. This was… preparation.

He found a secluded clearing, a place where he could practice undisturbed, and spread the scrolls before him. The intricate diagrams, the blood-written runes, the cryptic instructions – they were complex, demanding, unlike anything he had encountered in traditional cultivation.

A flashback, sharp and vivid, flooded his mind. The cavern beneath Jinzo. The two young disciples, their faces pale, their hands stained crimson. Their desperate pleas. Their pathetic attempts to wield power they couldn't control.

He saw himself reading the scrolls, the words burning themselves into his memory: "The Blood Techniques require not just physical strength, but also specially prepared scrolls, imbued with the blood of both beast or man. These scrolls act as conduits, amplifying the techniques, focusing the power. The quality of the blood used determines the potency of the technique. Animal or low-rank monster blood yields only 30% of the technique's true power. Mid-rank monster blood, 60%. Human blood, or the blood of high-rank monsters, unlocks the full 100%."

He had laughed then, at their folly, at their weakness. But now, he understood. He had underestimated the complexity, the intricacy of these forbidden arts. He had dismissed them as crude, inefficient. But he had been wrong.

He drew monster's blood, a precise cut, the crimson droplets falling onto the parchment. He began to draw, carefully, meticulously, replicating the runes, the diagrams, the intricate patterns from the scrolls, his hand steady, his focus absolute.

He started with the basic techniques. Blood Hardening. Blood Sensing. He drew the patterns on separate pieces of parchment, creating two sets of scrolls, one for each technique. He repeated the process, again and again, until he had created a hundred copies of each, his fingers stained crimson, his mind focused on the intricate details, the subtle nuances of the blood-written runes.

He began to practice. Blood Hardening first. He held the scroll in his left hand, the Ethereal Katana in his right. He focused, channeling his will, his intent, into the blood-infused parchment, feeling the subtle hum of the runes, the faint tremor of power.

He circulated his blood essence, following the pathways described in the scroll, his muscles tensing, his skin tingling, as the power of the technique began to manifest. He could feel it, a hardening of his flesh, a strengthening of his bones, a subtle, yet undeniable increase in his physical resilience.

It was… exhilarating. A different kind of power than Qi, but power nonetheless. Raw, visceral, connected to his very being.

He repeated the process, again and again, each repetition refining his control, deepening his understanding of the technique. He practiced Blood Sensing, the scroll pulsing faintly in his hand, his senses sharpening, his awareness expanding, as he learned to perceive the world through the subtle vibrations of blood, the rhythmic pulse of life.

By nightfall, after hours of relentless practice, he had mastered both techniques. The scrolls, now faded and brittle, were tucked safely into his robes, their power imprinted onto his very being, their secrets unlocked.

He returned to Jadeheart, the city lights a distant glow on the horizon, his stride confident, his gaze fixed on the guildhall, his mind already calculating his next move.

He entered Room 567, the familiar silence a welcome embrace, and found it… occupied. A single envelope lay on his cot, sealed with the guild's insignia, its parchment crisp and official.

He opened it, his eyes scanning the neatly written words, the formal tone, the unmistakable authority of the Guild Master.

"Kenji, your presence is requested in Yrik City. Two days hence. The matter of Jinzo requires… further investigation."

Yrik City. The Guild Master's summons. An unexpected development. But not… unwelcome. He had anticipated this. He had planned for it.

He smiled, a cold, chillingly determined smile, as he placed the summons beside the blood-infused scrolls, the whispers of the Blood Path echoing in the silent darkness of Room 567. Yrik City awaited. And Kai, the phantom warrior, the seeker of power, the master of blood and steel, was ready to answer its call.