Confrontation

The sun hung low in the sky as the villagers gathered in the square, Jo Yuan stood at the center, flanked by the three martial artists—Han Shou, the leader; Mei, the swift swordswoman; and Zhang, the muscular brute. Mayor Zhou stood nearby, his face pale and anxious.

"You," Han Shou said, voice steady but firm, "We need to talk about what you've done. The technique confirmed you have a blood core. Why? Why drain the life from our people?"

Jo crossed his arms, an unsettling calm settling over him. "Why? Because strength is everything," he replied, his voice cold. "In this world, only the powerful survive. Weakness leads to suffering and death. I've learned that firsthand."

The mayor stepped forward, his brows furrowing. "But at what cost, Jo? The lives of innocent villagers? You could have chosen a different path."

"Different path?" Jo scoffed, a bitter smile creeping onto his lips. "Look around, Mayor. The world is cruel. Everyone is out for themselves. Those with power dictate the fate of the weak. I refuse to be a victim. My blood core grants me the opportunity, and I intend to use it."

Mei frowned, exchanging a glance with Han. "You think this justifies what you've done? You're playing a dangerous game."

"I think it justifies everything," Jo replied, his voice rising with passion. "The weak deserve to be sacrificed for the strong to thrive. If I have to suck the blood of a few to gain power, so be it."

Murmurs spread through the crowd. Some villagers, especially those who had lost family members, glared at Jo with tears of anger in their eyes. "How can you say that?" an older man shouted, his voice trembling. "My son was taken from me! How can you justify his death?"

Jo's heart twisted slightly at the raw emotion in the man's voice, but he shrugged it off. "I didn't force him to be weak," he replied, voice hardening. "If he had strength, he would still be alive."

As the villagers continued to voice their anger and sorrow, the martial artists exchanged glances, understanding the tension in the air. They had their work cut out for them.

But deep inside, Jo felt a flicker of doubt. The martial artists were stronger and faster than him.

As the confrontation escalated, he realized he wasn't as confident as he pretended. "I can't fight them head-on," he muttered to himself, eyes darting around for an escape route.

Suddenly, Han lunged at him, speed blurring as he closed the distance. Jo barely had time to react, dodging just in time to avoid a sharp kick. The sheer power of the martial artist sent him stumbling back. How can they move so fast? he thought in disbelief.

"Why are you hesitating?" Mei taunted, spinning in the air with her blades drawn. "Do you not believe in your own strength?"

"I do," Jo snapped back, but the words felt hollow. The martial artists' training was years ahead of his, and he knew he was at a disadvantage. Each time he tried to attack, they countered effortlessly.

But Jo had a plan. He wasn't just a blood-sucking fiend; he was also a formation master. He reached into his robes, fingers brushing against the small talismans he had hidden away.

"Enough!" he shouted, slamming a talisman to the ground. A flash of light exploded in the square, momentarily blinding the martial artists and the villagers.

"What the—!" Han shouted, squinting against the glare.

In the chaos, Jo activated his escape plan, the flashbang formations he had set up around the town before the martial artists arrived. He darted toward the nearest alley, using the confusion to slip away.

"Stop him!" Zhang bellowed, but the brightness had left them disoriented.

As Jo fled through the narrow streets, he could hear the martial artists recovering behind him. "He's a formation master!" Han shouted, realization dawning. "Slippery bastard!!!"