Targeting

Jo Yuan crouched in the dim light of his secluded hideout, his hand resting on his abdomen where he could feel the faint pulse of his blood core. Ever since he had condensed it, he knew something had changed. He had no teacher, no scrolls to consult—only his instincts. But instincts, he had learned, could be sharpened by trial and error.

He flicked his gaze to the trembling figure tied to the chair in front of him. The man, a shopkeeper from the town, was pale, sweat glistening on his forehead. Jo's hands itched, a strange hunger gnawing at him from deep inside.

He reached out, brushing his fingers against the man's skin. A sensation surged through him—faint at first, but unmistakable. His blood core pulsed, reacting as he drew a trickle of life essence from the man's body. The shopkeeper convulsed slightly but remained conscious.

Jo pulled back, breathing heavily. It wasn't enough.

...

Jo had already experimented with a handful of others—men, women, old and young—discreetly plucking them from the outskirts of the town. But it was always the same: the amount of blood he could siphon in one touch was too small. It needed more. He needed more. He watched the blood core carefully, feeling it shift slightly, like an unfinished puzzle. His dantian throbbed with the potential locked within.

"Too little," he muttered, wiping his hands on his tunic.

There was a pattern, Jo had noticed. The first few had been easy: a frail old beggar, too weak to fight back; a woman who walked the roads alone at night, already frightened of shadows. But their blood was thin, barely making the blood core stir.

He needed stronger, healthier individuals—people whose life energy was full, untouched by illness or fear. His eyes now fell on the guards and hunters who walked through the town, their bodies hardened by labor, their veins strong. They would do.

He didn't need many—just enough. Five, maybe six. If that wasn't enough to ignite the core, he'd take more.

...

For some, it was simple. A soft smile, a casual conversation under the guise of friendship, led them down a quiet alley. His charm worked well enough on those eager to trust. He'd chosen people who didn't know each other well, who wouldn't be missed quickly—fishermen, laborers from other towns, traveling merchants passing through.

But not all were so gullible.

One of the guards, tall and suspicious, squinted at him when Jo first approached.

"Why should I come with you?" the guard asked, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes narrowed, scanning Jo as if sensing something was off.

Jo forced a smile, hiding the tension building beneath his skin. "I have something to show you, something that will benefit you greatly."

The guard wasn't swayed, and when he reached for his weapon, Jo's hand shot out in desperation, touching his arm. The blood core activated instantly, greedily pulling the guard's life force.

The man's strength drained rapidly, his face contorting in surprise as his body weakened. Jo grimaced as the man's body slumped to the ground, life ebbing away quicker than he had planned. His heart pounded, but the thrill of the blood feeding the core overpowered any regret.

With each victim, Jo could feel the blood core responding differently—growing stronger, heavier in his dantian, yet still incomplete. There was a limit to how much he could take in one session, or else the core would overload, causing a backlash inside him, a fiery pain in his veins that left him gasping for air.

He realized this after pushing too hard with one victim, a woman in her thirties. Her blood, rich and potent, surged into his core, but Jo had tried to take too much too fast. His body seized, vision blurring, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he would lose control completely. He had to stagger back, breaking the connection before it overwhelmed him.

...

As Jo watched the light fade from another victim's eyes, he clenched his fist, feeling the pulse of the blood core in his dantian. He was getting closer.

He could sense it shifting, waiting for the final step to transform. How many more would it take?

He didn't know. But he would find out soon enough?