Chapter 39: Bloodline Gift (Part 2)
“Silence!”
“You must submit utterly to me.”
Kai Xiusu unleashed the full force of his Leader's Aura, a crushing, domineering presence that pressed down upon every Follower in the valley. The weight was unbearable—whether Two-Headed Dragon, Chimera, or Ogre, all bowed their heads, knees buckling under the sheer pressure of his will.
Once every creature had fallen to their knees, the Red Dragon slowly drew a claw across the palm of his hand. The skin there bore no scales—only thick, resilient hide, so tough even he found it difficult to pierce. The cut widened, and warm blood welled forth, slow and steady, pooling, then dripping.
Plip… plip… plip…
The crimson droplets fell one by one onto the Monolith, gathering in the Shallow Pit below.
The Followers remained motionless, heads bowed, silence hanging so thick it felt like stone. No one dared lift their gaze. Even their eyes stayed fixed on the ground, terrified of drawing the Red Dragon’s wrath. One wrong move, one glance too long, and the consequences would be catastrophic.
“Bloodline Gift,” Kai Xiusu whispered.
At his will, the ritual activated. Within the Leader's Aura, an unseen Strength stirred—strange, ancient, and deeply connected to the blood itself. The moment the spell took hold, the blood ceased to be mere fluid. It became an extension of his body, a thread of his Bloodline, reaching out, binding, spreading its influence far beyond his physical form.
When the final drop was absorbed, Kai Xiusu felt it—a part of his Strength was now gone, yet not lost. It was not a simple giving, but something deeper: like a tree scattering seeds into the wind. The gift would not return in kind immediately—but one day, when the harvest came, the Reciprocal Return would be immense.
The blood in the Shallow Pit still pulsed with warmth. It shimmered faintly, thick with Blessed Blood—a reservoir of unimaginable Strength.
The Followers had no idea what had transpired. They didn’t know if the ritual was complete, if it had succeeded. So they remained still, trembling in silence. The air in the valley was so still it felt frozen. Thousands of Monsters, packed tightly into the hollow, were utterly silent—no rustle, no breath, no movement.
Then, at last, Kai Xiusu broke the stillness.
“You may rise.”
The command was like a release. The Followers exhaled in unison, bodies rising in waves. But as their eyes fell upon the Shallow Pit, where the crimson liquid still flowed like a living river, they froze again—breath caught, hearts pounding.
Who wouldn’t want to be the one chosen? The one blessed with longevity, with Strength beyond measure?
“Lanpu.”
Kai Xiusu called the first name.
The Cannibal Magician was his appointed Head Steward, a rare Monsterspellcaster among the Monsters, and the architect of Ashen Hollow's prosperity. More importantly, he had been completely convinced—his loyalty absolute, his mind filled with the Red Dragon’s grand vision. Kai Xiusu needed him strong, authoritative, a living example for all the others.
Lanpu adjusted his glasses with deliberate calm, feigning a sense of foreknowledge. In truth, he had been shaking uncontrollably moments before, his heart hammering against his ribs—only when named did he manage to compose himself, forcing his face into an expression of serene acceptance.
He climbed the rock with effort, standing still, waiting.
The blood surged upward—against gravity—flowing into the Ogre’s mouth.
It was only a fraction of the total, but even so, for a creature three meters tall, it was a mere sip. Normally, Lanpu could drain the blood of an entire shaggy mammoth in one gulp.
But this was not ordinary blood.
As the Blessed Blood touched his tongue, his entire body convulsed.
His fat quivered violently. His muscles spasmed. His eyes turned blood-red.
“Aaah—!”
A torrent of elemental energy flooded down his throat. His mouth opened wide—wide enough to swallow a human head whole—and he roared like a beast without reason, utterly abandoning his earlier composure.
Yet the fire did not stop. The Fire Element burned through his esophagus, searing his gut, turning his insides into a furnace. Despite his legendary digestive system, this was the first time he’d ever felt such agony—like his very organs were being melted from within.
“It’s burning! It’s burning!”
He collapsed, unable to stand. His massive body twisted and writhed on the ground, limbs flailing, fists pounding the Monolith with desperate force. The impact echoed like thunder.
Inside him, the Dragon Blood churned like a storm, surging through his veins. His heart pounded like a war drum, pumping the Elemental Power through every cell, every nerve—preparing his body for transformation.
He lay panting, his breath ragged.
His body swelled—red, bloated, glowing like a balloon about to burst. Steam rose from his skin. He looked like a creature inflated beyond natural limits, trembling on the edge of rupture.
The Dragon’s Strength was far too much for a low-blooded Ogre like Lanpu.
Lanpu groaned, his voice fading, his body weakening. His eyes, once wild with pain, slowly regained clarity.
But the Life Siphoning continued. The Dragon Blood drained his vitality, converting it into raw, overwhelming elemental energy—filling him, reshaping him.
Had it failed?
Kai Xiusu said nothing. He watched, expression unreadable.
If it failed, he would regret losing a capable subordinate—but only that. The Red Dragon did not mourn the weak.
The other Ogres gripped their wooden clubs tightly. They had little loyalty to one another—some would even devour their fallen kin. But this Ogre, the one who always found food, who kept them fed… they wanted him to live.
On the other side, Great Goblin commander Dolo exhaled sharply, his breath quickening.
He had been under Lanpu’s shadow for too long. If the Ogre died, and the others were useless… then he could rise. He could seize control. Become the true Head Steward of Ashen Hollow.
A slow, satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
Then—suddenly—something changed.
“Aaah—!”
The Ogre’s voice erupted again, deeper, more primal. He dropped to all fours, his body contorting in a strange, unnatural way. His swollen form continued to expand—his muscles straining, his skin cracking open under the pressure.
He drank in the air around him, drawing energy from the very atmosphere. The air grew dry, thin, as if the world itself was being drained.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
His body rose and fell, expanding—three meters… four… five meters—until it finally stilled.
His back arched, a ridge of spines forming along his spine. His limbs sharpened, claws replacing his fingers and toes—long, jagged, like those of a Dragon.
His thick hide split open, peeled back like old skin—revealing beneath it a new layer of gleaming, hardened Red Scales, forming in perfect, overlapping rows, as if shedding a serpent’s skin.
Kai Xiusu finally understood.
This was no passive transformation.
Lanpu wasn’t just accepting the gift—he was using the Elemental Power within the Dragon Blood to weave Magic in his own body. He had crafted a Spellcraft Model—a self-sustaining Fireball Spell—that amplified his absorption of the Blood, drawing in every ounce of power.
It was an extreme risk. One misstep, and he would have burned apart from the inside.
But the reward… the reward was nothing short of miraculous.
And Lanpu, thanks to years of obsessive research, had mastered the Weave of Magic to a terrifying degree.
(End of Chapter)
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