His concentration slipped, and in the span of a breath, his suppression faltered. His eyes widened. ‘Fuck!’

He reasserted control just in time—barely pulling his energies back before they surged past the threshold that would’ve shattered his concealment completely.

A cold bead of sweat formed in his mind’s eye. ‘That was too close. I need to stay sharp,’ he thought, shaking off the lingering dread. He quickly returned to his training, more cautious now, determined not to repeat the mistake.

At this point, all he could do was hope his concealment would be enough to fool their methods of detection. Still, he felt confident. These Demonic Cultivators were all in the early stage of the Spiritual Foundation Realm, with only one at the mid stage. Their sensing techniques shouldn’t be too refined.

And even if they could still detect him… he’d simply keep training in this ‘energy control exercise’ until they couldn’t.

Weirdly enough, he didn’t mind waiting for them anymore.

***

In a small, isolated cave, three figures sat locked in silent meditation.

The air was heavy—thick with blood essence, steeped in a cloying metallic stench that clung to the lungs like damp rot. Crimson mist drifted lazily over the surface of a black, skull-shaped artifact hovering at the chamber’s center.

Faint whispers bled from it—agony, terror, pleading. Echoes of tens of thousands of mortals drained of everything that made them human within the last day. Their stolen life force pulsed inside the artifact like a second heart—slow, rhythmic, unnatural.

Bathed in this oppressive aura, the three sinister figures breathed in silence. With every inhale, they drew in wisps of the crimson mist, refining it through their Demonic Cultivation Method.

The corrupted energy coursed through their meridians, winding toward their dantians, where it deepened their cultivation base. Life force stolen from others… burned as fuel for their own rise.

Time slipped by. The crimson mist thinned, faded… and eventually vanished—fully devoured by the trio.

The youngest-looking among them, Yan Fengmu, opened his eyes first. Excitement flashed across his gaze.

“I’ve touched the threshold of the third layer. Just a couple more sessions like this, and I’ll break through!”

“Congratulations, Third,” said Yan Shoulie, the second brother.

“Ahh,” the oldest figure exhaled quietly, yet the weight of his presence silenced both younger cultivators at once.

His calm, icy gaze landed on Fengmu. “Well done, Fengmu. With your current pace, and myself nearing the fifth layer, we’ll soon be ready to move into a region richer in cultivators. Our growth will accelerate.”

The two brothers exchanged eager looks.

“Senior Brother is right,” Fengmu said, barely containing his excitement. “At this rate, we’ll soon be refining entire cities filled with stronger cultivators. We won’t have to content ourselves with mere mortals and the occasional cultivator anymore. That’s when our progress will become truly heaven-defying.”

Then, a memory surfaced—one that darkened his expression. His fist clenched as he spat with venom, “The Yan Clan… those bastards. We’ll make them regret ever mocking and abandoning us. They’ll pay the price for offending the three of us.”

The moment Yan Clan left the youngest brother’s lips, the cave’s atmosphere shifted—growing colder, more sinister.

Yan Shoulie’s face hardened, shadowed by the same bitterness. Meanwhile, the eldest brother, Yan Wusheng, remained composed, though a faint flicker of anger stirred behind his calm eyes.

“Let’s not talk about those bastards from the Yan Clan. No need to sour the mood,” Shoulie said, waving the thought away. “Fengmu, Wusheng—both of you are on the verge of a breakthrough. That’s worth celebrating. Why don’t we go refine a couple of cities to mark the occasion?”

A lecherous grin spread across Fengmu’s face. “True, true. We definitely should celebrate. I’ll take some women from whatever city we destroy to keep me company.”

Shoulie opened his mouth to speak—but stopped the moment he caught Wusheng’s darkening gaze. He wisely held his tongue.

Then, Wusheng’s cold voice cut through the air. “Did you two forget the looming calamity I sensed? Now isn’t the time for carelessness. We need to remain extremely cautious.”

“You’re right. Apologies, Eldest Brother,” Shoulie said immediately, his tone low and respectful.

“Tch. Sorry,” muttered Fengmu, averting his gaze.

But soon, his eyes returned to Wusheng, a trace of defiance flickering within them. “But Senior Brother… is this calamity really that severe? With our strength, shouldn’t we be able to handle it?” His voice carried a note of arrogance.

Smack.

Before Wusheng could respond, Shoulie struck Fengmu across the back of the head.

“Don’t be arrogant,” he snapped. “We might be strong around here, but compared to true powerhouses, we’re nothing.”

“Now isn’t the time to grow complacent. You should pay attention to Eldest Brother’s intuition. He’s cultivated Foresight of Heaven’s Mandate to the first layer.”

He straightened, voice firm with conviction. “He’s the reason we’ve risen as Demonic Cultivators. Without him, we’d still be wandering cultivators barely scraping by. But thanks to the Demonic Cultivator inheritance he obtained—and his comprehension of Foresight of Heaven’s Mandate—we’ve been able to evade disaster, seize opportunity, and thrive.”

“Now is not the time to let our guard down.”

Wusheng’s composed gaze settled on the youngest. “Shoulie is right. We must be cautious. That means you need to abstain—from women… and from arrogance.”

Fengmu looked like he was about to argue, but Wusheng cut in before he could speak.

“Especially in the days to come.”

His voice carried a weight that silenced the cave.

Fengmu stiffened, then asked, a trace of anxiety slipping through, “What will happen… in the days to come?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Wusheng replied quietly. “But I feel like a deep calamity is approaching us.”

Fengmu and Shoulie’s expressions turned grim. Wusheng continued, his tone steady but heavy.

“Still, not everything is bleak. While I sense a calamity looming over us, I also feel that if we survive—if we make it through—we’ll be met with great fortune. If we can endure, we’ll be like carp leaping through the dragon gate.”

Excitement flickered across Fengmu’s face, while Shoulie remained tense and wary.

“If the calamity is that serious,” Shoulie asked, “should we run?”

Wusheng shook his head.

“Not possible. Our cultivation levels are too low to safely blood-refine anyone outside this area. Where we are now is the only place with relative safety. If we try to relocate before I reach the 5th layer and Fengmu reaches the 3rd, our deaths are assured—I can feel it.”

Fengmu’s expression shifted, excitement quickly replaced by fear.

“In that case… should we hide until it passes?”

Again, Wusheng shook his head.

“No. Hiding won’t resolve the calamity—it would only delay it. I can feel that clearly. What we need to do is push through, reach the necessary cultivation realms, and escape to a richer region.”

“In that sense, we could be said to have overcome the calamity. There is another option: facing it head-on. And if we were to survive that... the rewards would be enormous—far greater than anything we’d gain by running.”

He caught the way Fengmu’s expression darkened with greed.

“Don’t get greedy,” Wusheng warned coldly. “Trying to face this calamity is a death sentence with almost no chance of survival. That’s why we won’t confront it—we’ll escape.”

“To do that, we’ll change our plans for the coming days. Instead of refining a single settlement each day, we’ll strike multiple large cities in rapid succession. In this way, the Soulreap Skull will absorb vast amounts of life force quickly. Once we’ve gathered enough, we’ll go into hiding to refine it.”

“After the life force is fully absorbed—once I break through to the 5th layer and Fengmu reaches the 3rd—we’ll leave this region for good. This is crucial. We must all be careful and follow this plan to the letter. Understood?”

His gaze swept from one brother to the other, his voice steeped in seriousness.

Fengmu and Shoulie both nodded solemnly, fully grasping the weight of what lay ahead.

With that, the trio of brothers stepped out of the cave—intent on blood-refining as many mortals as they could before vanishing into the wind. What they didn’t know was that their bold initiative, meant to shield them, would be the very thing that dragged them straight into the calamity they feared most…

Unaware of what awaited them, the three brothers emerged from their hideout and began their harvest, targeting cities, towns, and villages in rapid succession.

Compared to before, their pace was staggering. Where once they refined a single settlement each day, now they moved with terrifying speed—one settlement per hour.

Hours passed in this grim fashion. Hundreds of thousands of mortals had already been stripped of everything—their lives extinguished, their essence converted into life force.

Yet even that immense quantity wasn’t enough. They needed a little more—just enough to secure Yan Fengmu’s and Yan Wusheng’s breakthroughs before they could escape the region for good.

‘Five more cities and we should be good,’ thought Wusheng, as he and his brothers hovered above a so-called ‘bustling’ city.

Or rather, it had been bustling—once. Since the brothers began their blood refinement campaign, fear had soaked into the land. The entire region trembled beneath their shadow. Only the inhabitants of Briarshade City still clung to the fading hope that their turn might never come.

So when three flying cultivators appeared in the sky—undeniably Spiritual Foundation Realm—the reaction below wasn’t awe or curiosity.

It was despair. Visceral, soul-crushing despair—as the people realized their time had finally come.

A mother clutched her daughter, whispering hollow reassurances while terror filled her eyes.

A merchant froze mid-motion, hands resting on the shop’s shutters. He no longer saw a reason to close up.

Others bolted, scrambling in a futile effort to outrun death.

“Please, great lords—don’t kill us!”

Cries rang out, filled with pleading and desperation.

But the three brothers remained unmoved.

They didn’t hear the mortals’ screams any more than one hears the cries of cattle before the blade. After all, do you mourn the steak on your plate?

They didn’t. They didn’t see people below—only sustenance. Just fuel for their path forward.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

With chilling detachment, they began to position themselves.

The blood refinement was about to begin.

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— End of Chapter —