The Author's Draft-Chapter 61: Cultivating the Blood Tyrant Devouring Art II

Chapter 61: Chapter 61: Cultivating the Blood Tyrant Devouring Art II

He gathered all his qi—every drop from his dantian, every stream flowing through his opened pores—and compressed it into a single point.

Then he struck the barrier.

The wall resisted.

Long Chen struck again, and again. Each impact sending shockwaves through his cultivation base.

Tian Long roared above him, lending power to the breakthrough attempt. Dragon qi flooded down, reinforcing Long Chen’s own energy.

On the fifth strike, cracks appeared in the barrier.

On the tenth strike, the cracks widened and on the fifteenth strike, the barrier shattered.

Spiritual energy exploded outward from Long Chen’s dantian, rushing through his meridians in a violent flood. His cultivation base expanded, doubled in capacity, then stabilized at a new level.

Foundation Establishment Realm, early stage.

The transformation was immediate and profound. His dantian felt deeper, more stable. His qi was denser, more refined and his spiritual sense extended further—he could now perceive details a hundred meters away with clarity.

Tian Long roared triumphantly before fading back into Long Chen’s consciousness.

Long Chen opened his eyes slowly.

The red lines from the Blood Tyrant Devouring Art were glowing brighter now, fed by the increased spiritual energy from his breakthrough. His body felt like it was vibrating with power.

"Why do I feel different?"

*Your spiritual energy capacity is roughly three times what it was. Your physical strength has increased proportionally, your perception is sharper and most importantly—you can now use spiritual sense actively, which will make combat significantly easier.*

Long Chen stood and stretched, every movement feeling fluid and effortless.

But the breakthrough had also drained him. The combination of framework establishment, the blood refinement preparation, and the realm advancement had pushed him to his limits.

"I need to rest," Long Chen said.

*Agreed. Consolidate your new realm, let your body adjust to the changes. Then tomorrow, you can return to the Tower and begin blood refinement cultivation.*

Long Chen nodded and lay down on his mat.

Within minutes, he was asleep.

-----

The next morning, Long Chen woke feeling better than he had in weeks.

His body had adjusted to the framework overnight. The red lines had faded to barely visible marks, but he could still feel them there—pathways for spiritual energy, ready to channel demon beast blood when the time came.

His Foundation Establishment cultivation felt stable, consolidated during sleep. He was ready.

Long Chen stood up, ready to head to the Tower—

His disciple token vibrated.

He pulled it out and read the message glowing across its surface:

*Mandatory gathering. All inner disciples report to Sword Ascension Platform immediately. Elder teaching session.*

Long Chen frowned. "Mandatory? Since when are elder teachings mandatory?"

*They’re usually optional,* Azazel said. *If they’re making this one mandatory, something important is happening.*

"Guess I’m going to find out."

Long Chen strapped Demon Dweller to his waist and left his cave abode.

The path to Sword Ascension Platform was crowded again—disciples moving in groups, all heading the same direction. The atmosphere was different from the last gathering, though. There was excitement in the air, anticipation.

Long Chen caught fragments of conversation as he walked.

"I heard it’s someone special teaching today."

"Really? Who?"

"No one knows for sure, but the rumors say—"

" An ancestor?"

"Don’t be ridiculous. Why would an ancestor bother teaching inner disciples?"

By the time Long Chen reached the platform, the seating areas were filled with inner disciples, and even some core disciples had shown up despite the gathering being specifically for inner disciples.

Murmurs flew through the crowd like birds startled from trees.

"Who’s coming?"

"Why is everyone so excited?"

"Even Senior Brother Han is here. When’s the last time he attended a teaching?"

Long Chen found a spot near the middle of the inner disciple section and sat down.

Then his attention was drawn to a particular group seated near the front.

Ten disciples sat together in a section clearly reserved for them. Their robes were the same inner disciple design, but their presence was different—more refined, more confident. Spiritual pressure radiated from them collectively, marking them as significantly stronger than average.

Most were at peak Foundation Establishment, on the verge of Core Formation and a few were surrounded by an aura that suggested otherwise.

"The top ten inner disciples," someone whispered nearby. "All of them are here."

"Of course they are. If someone important is teaching, they wouldn’t miss it."

Long Chen studied the top ten. He recognized none of them, well, he hadn’t been in the sect that long.

They looked like they knew something the rest of the crowd didn’t.

Time passed. The crowd grew larger and more restless.

Then, without anyone noticing when it happened, an old man appeared on the platform.

He was just... there.

One moment the platform was empty. The next, an elderly figure stood in its center, seemingly having materialized from thin air.

The old man looked completely unremarkable. Short, thin, with messy gray hair and a beard that hadn’t been trimmed in months. His robes were plain and slightly dirty, like he’d been traveling rough roads. He carried no weapon, wore no sect insignia, and gave off absolutely no presence.

No spiritual pressure, no cultivation aura. Nothing.

He looked like a mortal old man who’d wandered onto the platform by mistake.

Long Chen stared at him, trying to sense something—anything—but there was nothing there. Not even a whisper of qi.

’How did he appear without anyone noticing?’

The crowd didn’t notice him at first. They were still talking, still waiting for whoever was supposed to teach them.

The old man stood there patiently for nearly a full minute, just watching the disciples chatter.

Then he cleared his throat.

Softly.

The sound didn’t come through the air.

It appeared directly in Long Chen’s mind—not in his ears, but in his consciousness. A soft cough that bypassed normal hearing entirely and manifested as pure thought.

Every single disciple in the arena heard it simultaneously.

The crowd went silent immediately.

Thousands of heads turned toward the platform, suddenly aware of the old man’s presence.

Long Chen’s eyes widened. ’That technique... he transmitted sound directly into everyone’s minds at once. How many people are here? Two thousand? Three thousand? And he reached all of them simultaneously?’

Some disciples recognized the old man immediately. Their faces went pale, then flushed with excitement.

"What’s he doing here?"

"I thought he was in seclusion!"

"Why is he here!?"

Others looked confused, having no idea who the shabby old man was.

Long Chen noticed the top ten inner disciples had all stood up and bowed deeply toward the platform.

The old man—Elder Wu, apparently—waved them back down with a dismissive gesture.

"Sit, sit. No need for formalities." His voice was raspy but clear, carrying easily across the platform without spiritual enhancement. "I’m only here briefly, won’t take much of your time."

He looked around at the gathered disciples, his eyes sharp despite his disheveled appearance.

"I’m here to teach you a technique," Elder Wu said simply. "But I’m only going to show it once. So pay attention."

The crowd leaned forward collectively.

The old man took a stance.

It was deceptively simple—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, weight balanced. His right hand rose, two fingers extended in the Sword Finger position.

Then the air changed.

Pressure descended on the Sword Ascension Platform like a mountain falling from the sky. Spiritual energy so dense it became visible, distorting the air around Elder Wu’s body.

Long Chen felt it pressing down on him—not physically crushing, but overwhelming in presence. His Foundation Establishment cultivation felt like a candle next to a sun.

’This is...’

The old man’s fingers moved.

He slashed upward with his Sword Finger—a simple vertical motion, like cutting through air.

Nothing happened.

No visible sword energy, no arc of light, no spiritual technique manifestation.

The crowd murmured in confusion.

"Did he—"

"Was that it?"

"I didn’t see anything—"

BOOM!

An explosion erupted in the sky directly above the platform.

Not where Elder Wu had struck, not at the arc of his motion. But hundreds of meters straight up, where his sword energy had suddenly materialized out of nothing and detonated.

The shockwave rolled across the arena, rattling teeth and shaking the ground.

Every disciple stared upward in shock.

"What—"

"How—"

"The sword energy disappeared and then reappeared!?"

Elder Wu lowered his hand and looked at the stunned crowd.

"Two weeks," he said simply. "You have two weeks to comprehend what you just saw. The disciple with the highest comprehension will be rewarded heavily."

Then he turned and walked off the platform, disappearing into the crowd before anyone could react.

The disciples erupted into chaos.

"That was teleportation! He teleported his sword energy!"

"How is that possible!?"

"What kind of technique—"

"Two weeks to comprehend that!? I don’t even know what I saw!"

The top ten inner disciples looked serious, their eyes distant as they immediately began analyzing what they’d witnessed.

Long Chen stood up slowly and started making his way out of the arena, his mind racing.

He’d seen it clearly. The old man’s sword energy hadn’t just moved fast—it had vanished from one point in space and reappeared at another. No travel time in between.

’That’s...’

*That technique,* Azazel said quietly, his voice carrying genuine respect, *is touching the limit of this world’s laws.*

Long Chen kept walking, heading toward the Tower. "What do you mean?"

*I mean that old man is using spatial manipulation. He folded space.*

"Folded space?"

*Think of space like a piece of paper, the top to the end are separated by a distance, but if you fold the paper you eliminate the distance, and the top and end are separated by nothing.*

Long Chen still not understanding, puts it at the back of his mind as he headed towards the tower.