Chapter 3: The Blood Pool Rite

After Elder Mo finished speaking, he declared in a measured tone, "Alright, that concludes this chapter for all of you. Follow me." Leaning steadily on his worn cane, the elder began a slow, deliberate walk. One by one, the seventeen young participants fell in line behind him, their footsteps echoing in the long, shadowed corridors of the fortress.

The group ventured deeper into the stronghold, leaving behind the refined halls

As they progressed, the smooth, carefully crafted walls gave way to raw, uncut rock. It was clear that this fortress was not merely built—it was hewn from the very mountain that sheltered the Shen family. In the dim light, thick red mists floated through the air, lending an otherworldly, ominous glow to the ancient stone.

After what felt like an eternity of silent, measured steps, the group reached a vast, cavernous chamber. Before them lay numerous blood pools, their surfaces bubbling as though stirred by the ghosts of past sacrifices. Within a few of these pools, Shen Li could just make out the strained figures of martial artists, each absorbed in the art of cultivation as they drew strength from the crimson liquid.

Elder Mo halted at a particularly large blood pool—a vast, scarlet expanse that seemed to pulse with the weight of centuries. Raising a calloused hand, he pointed at it and spoke, "This pool was created by your predecessors. In times of great need, our ancestors collected the blood of the fallen and extracted their essence, accumulating power to fortify our lineage."

 he continued, "Now, each of you must remove your nonessential clothing and step into the pool. You are to remain within these waters for three hours. During that time, your body will adapt to the potent blood. When the three hours have passed, further development of your bloodline will cease—this is the point where your essence is stabilized."

Shen Li stripped off his nonessential clothes and stepped toward the pool, following the elder's command without hesitation. As his hand made contact with the viscous, crimson liquid, an immediate burning sensation shot up his arm—an intense, searing pain that made him gasp, "Auch!" He paused, his eyes darting toward the other participants who were already striding confidently into the deeper part of the pool, their faces set in determined resignation. Biting his tongue to stifle his protest, Shen Li swallowed hard and slowly plunged into the deep, murky blood.

Almost instantly, agony rippled across his skin as if it were aflame. The intense heat seemed to burn away the old layers, and in the midst of the pain, he could sense a subtle transformation taking root. His skin began to harden, its texture shifting to something more resilient—a nascent, impenetrable barrier forming beneath the searing torment.

The agony surged deeper still. His muscles convulsed violently, each spasm like a hammer blow reshaping his very flesh. The fibers contracted and expanded in a brutal dance, tearing and reforming under the relentless pressure. With every pulse, his muscles grew denser and more defined, their raw power slowly surging into existence even as each contraction reminded him of the excruciating price of change.

Then came the most harrowing trial: his bones began to protest. A cacophony of cracking sounds filled his mind as his skeletal structure was forced to reforge itself. Each bone, strained under the torrent of energy, fractured and then mended in an agonizing cycle. In that crucible of pain, his bones emerged stronger, a fortified framework designed to support his newfound might.

Beneath it all, his bone marrow stirred—an inner furnace of vitality that pulsed with a fierce, incandescent light. The marrow's transformation ignited his blood, which now roared through his veins like molten metal. This newly forged blood carried with it a concentrated essence of raw power—a potent elixir that bound the transformation together.

Throughout this relentless ordeal, the pain was nearly unbearable, every moment a trial of fire and will. Yet, as the minutes bled into an eternity, the raw agony gradually gave way to a stable, seething energy coursing through every fiber of his being. Shen Li's body, scarred and reformed by the ordeal, began to settle into its new state—a vessel honed by flame, muscle, bone, marrow, and blood.

In that moment, as the searing torment subsided into a deep, abiding strength, Shen Li realized that the transformation was complete.

After three long hours in the blood pool, the seething pain had subsided into a deep, stabilizing hum. Shen Li emerged slowly from the crimson depths, his body trembling from the ordeal but alive with new power. Every inch of his skin, every muscle fiber, bone, marrow, and drop of blood now pulsed with an intense, refined energy.

Gritting his teeth, he reached for the ethereal panel that had accompanied his earlier transformation. With a deep, steadying breath, he activated it. The familiar numbers flickered across the interface, and Shen Li's eyes widened in quiet astonishment. His bloodline, once measured at a meager 26%, now shone at 39%.

A sudden, resonant gong echoed through the chamber—a sharp, commanding sound that cut through the lingering silence of the blood pool. Elder Mo's voice rang out immediately, authoritative and unyielding:

"That's enough. You don't need to stay any longer. Lingering will do more harm than benefit."

With that, the young participants stirred, emerging one by one from the crimson pool. Their bodies were slick with coagulated blood, the residue of the transformative rite clinging to every inch of their skin.

Elder Mo strode forward and gestured toward a stack of worn towels arranged neatly on a stone bench. "Here," he said briskly, "use these to rinse off as much blood as you can. Once you return to your houses, you may take a proper shower. Be quick—there's no need to scrub every last drop. We will soon begin to learn about your bloodline qualifications."

While Shen Li meticulously scrubbed the residual blood from his skin, the murmur of conversation drifted from a nearby cluster of participants. The blue-eyed woman, Shen Piyang, was engaged in a hushed debate with one of the others.

"Do you think there will be six or seven levels of qualification?" one participant asked quietly, his tone laced with cautious curiosity.

Shen Piyang let out a soft, dismissive laugh. "Honestly speaking, I don't care much," she replied with a cool detachment. "Even if a legendary level nine were to be born, it wouldn't matter to me—if it's not mine, it's of no consequence."

At that moment, Shen Li, his face still etched with the aftershocks of transformation, checked his bloodline percentage on the interface and frowned. Muttering under his breath, he asked, "What level qualification does this represent?" His tone carried a blend of skepticism and concern.

Unable to contain his thoughts any longer, Shen Li stepped closer to join the conversation. "I think having low-grade qualifications is troublesome," he ventured, his voice firm yet reflective. "I've never heard of anyone with less than level two qualification, but at the same time, possessing overly high-grade talent isn't entirely ideal either."

Shen Piyang's gaze sharpened as she retorted, "Well, what did you expect? We have to cut the sick roots for the sake of the next generation. If we let only first-level qualifications rise, our clan would stagnate and eventually wither away."

Shen Li's expression grew serious. "I hope you won't end up being one of those low-quality cases,"

With a disdainful curl of her lips, Shen Piyang replied, "Me? Still daydreaming? Look at me—compared to the elders and the patrol teams, they all see me differently."

Shen Li's tone turned even more grave. "Yeah, but isn't that a problem? No one should reveal their true heritage within the clan. Yet many seem to favor you, as if they already know you possess a higher qualification."

Frowning, Shen Piyang challenged, "So what?"

"Don't forget," Shen Li warned, "we are a cannibalistic family. You must be cautious—not only do you need to avoid falling behind, but you also must not expose yourself too much. If you end up with a level six qualification, people will start having ideas about you. And if you ascend to level seven, then even the elders will begin to talk amongst themselves."

Before Shen Piyang could utter a retort, Elder Mo's voice boomed through the hall, silencing every whispered word. "Come here, all of you! You all know that we will now begin to measure your qualifications!"

The ancient stone platform lay at the heart of the fortress courtyard, its surface etched with the legendary Blood Runes and crisscrossed by narrow channels carved deep into the rock. The red mists hung low in the air as the seventeen young participants gathered for the ritual, their faces already etched with anxiety and resolve.

Elder Mo stood at the center, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "Prepare yourselves," he commanded, "for the Ceremony of the Blood Runes begins now. Let your blood flow freely, for it is the key to revealing your true potential."

One by one, the youths pricked their skin and allowed streams of blood to trickle into the channels. The liquid coursed along the grooves, pooling at the base of each rune. As the blood seeped in, the runes began to react—at first with a faint glow, then with more vibrant hues as more blood was absorbed.

A murmur rose from the gathered crowd as Shen Li watched his own transformation. Three of his runes flared to life in a steady, albeit modest, glow. He exchanged a quick glance with Shen Piang, whose five runes shone brilliantly, drawing whispered admiration from those nearby.

But then, a sharp cry cut through the hushed atmosphere. From the far end of the platform, a timid voice trembled, "Ah—!" It came from one of the younger participants, a slight boy whose face had turned ashen as his blood barely managed to kindle a single, feeble glow on one of the runes.

Elder Mo's eyes narrowed, and a low murmur of disapproval rippled through the assembly. "Level One," he pronounced coldly. "This is unacceptable."

An assistant elder stepped forward and seized the trembling boy by the arm. "You have failed to awaken the strength of your bloodline," the elder intoned, his tone void of mercy. "Come with us."

Shen Li felt a pang of sympathy amid the brutal reality of the ritual. Yet, he knew all too well the harsh rules of the Shen clan. The weak were not given a choice—they were taken away to be reformed, or, as some whispered, culled entirely for the greater good of the bloodline.

As the boy was dragged away, Elder Mo raised his voice again, "Remember, the Blood Runes do not lie. They reveal not only your potential but also the price of your shortcomings. Today, you all must face the truth of your heritage. Those who show strength will be guided, and those who falter—well, they must be refined, even if by means most severe."

A heavy silence settled over the platform. Shen Li, still absorbing the spectacle, turned to Shen Piang. "Do you think this harsh measure will ever change?" he whispered.

Shen Piang's cool gaze met his. "In our clan, weakness is the root of decay. We must cut it out before it spreads. This is our way, harsh as it is. Only those who prove themselves will survive to carry our legacy forward."

After the blood pool ritual had ended and the raw truth of their qualifications was recorded in the ancient book, Elder Mo gathered the participants in a quiet corner of the fortress. The ancient stone platform still bore the remnants of the ceremony

Elder Mo cleared his throat, his tone brooking no argument.

"Now," he began, glancing over the parchment where each name and its corresponding bloodline level were meticulously noted, "those of you with second-level qualifications, you may resume your daily jobs. For those who have attained level three, you have the option: you may join the patrol teams or continue with your everyday work—it's your choice."

At that moment, Shen Piang stepped forward, her blue eyes glistening with both defiance and curiosity. "And what about me?" she asked, her tone calm yet daring.

Elder Mo's gaze softened ever so slightly as he replied, "You will stay with me. I will personally teach you."

Shen Li, still catching his breath from the ordeal and the newfound revelation of his own level, interjected, "Do we have access to the library? I believe a deeper understanding of our martial arts would aid in our cultivation."

Elder Mo smiled faintly, acknowledging the young man's earnest inquiry. "Yes, we do. We expect each of you to pursue martial arts cultivation diligently. You might not receive high-grade techniques right away"

"Okay, today is enough. You all—turn to your houses. If we need anything further, I will inform you later. For now, rest. Tomorrow, you may go to the library to search for cultivation techniques."

A palpable mix of relief and apprehension passed among the group. With a few curt nods, the young cultivators began dispersing, their footsteps echoing in the vast, stone corridors of the fortress. Shen Li lingered for a moment, watching as his peers moved away with a quietly