Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 146: A Blessing in Disguise

This time would be no different.

The girl seemed to sense that something was wrong. Her bright eyes now reflected fear.

"You..."

Her lips trembled, but before she could finish speaking, Aizen struck.

His blood-soaked fingers, like iron hooks, pierced the chest of the older woman.

The act was effortless, like plunging into soft tofu.

Grasping her still-beating heart, Aizen crushed it with a single squeeze.

"Yes, I’m here to save you. Dying by my hand is better than being humiliated, isn’t it?"

Aizen’s cold smile deepened.

The hatred in the woman’s eyes turned to venomous resentment as she struggled for breath.

With her final moments, she uttered a few words in a faint, dying voice.

"Spare... spare her..."

Her plea was left unfinished as life left her body.

She was already dead. What mercy was she asking for?

But Aizen understood—she was asking him to spare her daughter.

Aizen shifted his gaze to the girl.

She was utterly frozen, large tears rolling down her face, though her sobs were silent.

Aizen had killed her mother right before her eyes.

Shouldn’t she be screaming hysterically, thrashing against her bonds?

But she did not do so.

Her once-beautiful eyes no longer shone with their former radiance. They were now filled with hatred, anger, and murderous intent.

She glared at Aizen with unrelenting intensity, biting her lips so hard they bled. If looks could kill, Aizen would have died countless times by now.

An indescribable strength seemed to hold up her frail body—a strength born from hatred.

If given the chance, she would absolutely kill Aizen.

**"Ah, hatred... Without hatred, there would be no enemies. Sadly, I wasn’t your enemy before.

But sometimes, a single thought can turn people into foes.

Let your death be the offering to commemorate Mr. Jones. Go reunite with him in the afterlife...

Revenge? Heh... Trying to live long enough to kill me would be a pain worse than death.

Because you’ll never get that chance, and you would never want to truly be my enemy."**

Aizen bowed his head, and with a sudden motion, drove his claw into the girl’s chest.

In the end, he couldn’t help but be influenced by his emotions, softening for a brief moment. Otherwise, there would not have been so many unnecessary words.

But even when emotions crept in, they never overruled his most rational decisions.

Hatred was a force too great to leave unchecked. He would never give anyone the chance to grow stronger and exact revenge, nor would he risk letting a tiger return to the mountains.

Killing, killing... Sometimes, killing can be exhausting.

Aizen was not yet a true demon. At times, he felt the weariness of his actions.

He was still in the phase of acting on impulse, following his whims.

A true demon, at the very least, acts according to their heart’s desires.

Doing whatever they wish, without hesitation.

But to do that requires power—immense power.

And Aizen didn’t have that level of strength yet.

Leaving the dungeon, Aizen knew that someone else would clean up the bodies.

He returned to the pavilion by the lakeside. Picking up his blade, he began to dance wildly with it, slashing furiously outside the pavilion.

The sound of the blade, mingled with the howling wind, was bone-chilling to anyone who heard it.

Unknowingly, Aizen had entered a demonic state.

His blood seemed to boil within him, and an indescribable, devilish nature began to cloud his mind.

A vast, ominous wave emanated faintly from his body.

The tempo of his blade movements grew faster and faster.

His blood surged uncontrollably, and his inner energy spiraled madly, rushing through his major acupoints and meridians.

Within the pavilion, Christopher had long noticed Aizen’s return.

But now he realized something was amiss.

Aizen’s current state didn’t seem like regular blade practice. His expression was twisted, feral, as though he was consumed by inner demons.

This wasn’t training—it was a descent into madness.

The autumn wind was as sharp as a blade.

Yet no matter how biting the wind, it could easily be cleaved by the edge of a blade as sharp as this one.

It was a slender blade, gripped by bloodstained hands.

The blade carried a murderous aura—it was a weapon meant to kill.

The man wielding it carried an even more menacing presence—a killer through and through.

One thrust of the blade was like a peacock spreading its feathers.

In that moment, Aizen unleashed countless slashes, each one as dazzling as the colorful spots on a peacock’s tail feathers glinting in the sunlight.

The blade tore through the air with a sharp whistle, merging with the sound of the wind.

Aizen’s body was drenched in sweat, his pores wide open from the overflowing energy coursing through him. Yet, he remained oblivious to his state.

If he continued to swing his blade so recklessly, his energy would eventually deplete, leading to his death.

At the same time, however, the chaotic inner power surging through his body was gradually refining itself. One by one, previously blocked acupoints were opening, and his meridians were becoming unobstructed.

The foreign energy filling his limbs mixed chaotically with his own inner power, and under the violent tides of his surging blood and energy, it was quickly being refined.

This was a rare and advantageous state, but also an extremely dangerous one.

If Aizen failed to regain his clarity in time, he would lose all his cultivated power and die.

But if he succeeded, the rewards would be immense.

Struggling to his feet, ِChristopher could see that Aizen had gone astray in his cultivation and fallen into Qigong deviation. He needed to wake Aizen up immediately.

But with his inner power gone, how could he possibly stop Aizen?

The only option seemed to be sacrificing his own life.

Christopher hesitated, torn by his thoughts.

Would it not be better to let Aizen die?

This man, though he had once been Christopher’s benefactor, had also personally destroyed him. Wouldn’t it be satisfying to see him meet such a tragic end? Why risk his life for Aizen now?

With a sudden shout, Christopher made his decision.

He rushed out of the pavilion, roaring as if imitating a lion’s roar.

Had his inner power still been intact, the sound would have been deafening, like the roar of a true lion.

But now, his shout was no more than a hoarse yell, like a common man challenging a wild beast.

A flash of blade light.

Aizen, drawn by the noise, charged with overwhelming killing intent, slashing fiercely toward Christopher.

"Consul! Wake up!"

Christopher bellowed with all his might, standing his ground without dodging or retreating.

He knew full well that evasion was futile against someone as skilled as Aizen.

However, his desperate cry was quickly drowned out by the piercing sound of the blade, his vision consumed by the cold gleam of steel.

Instinctively, he raised an arm to block.

In the next instant, his arm felt strangely light, as though it had lost its familiar weight.

"Ahhhh!!!"

Blood spurted violently from the severed arm.

Christopher let out a heart-wrenching scream.

The pain of losing an arm was unbearable—a torment no one could endure.

Cold wind swept through, the blade glinting in its path.

Writhing on the ground,Christopher, overwhelmed by despair, awaited the moment of his death.

"Clang!"

The sharp blade suddenly fell to the ground, embedding itself deeply into the soil.

Aizen had awoken.

His eyes cleared, the madness in his mind fading. The boiling energy within him began to settle.

"Demonic Blood..."

Aizen stared at his hands, his pupils constricting.

He recalled the events that had just transpired. Though he had been out of his mind, he could still remember everything he had done.

Now, as his thoughts clarified, he recollected every detail.

He could still feel the vast, boundless wave of energy within him gradually subsiding.

That was the power of the Demonic Blood .

He had always known that the blood of a true demon was not something so easily refined or absorbed.

This Demonic Blood, while capable of enhancing his own demonic nature, also carried the risk of dragging him into an abyss from which he could never return.

"Consul..."

Lying in a pool of blood, Christopher gasped weakly, his face pale, his eyes rolling back.

Having lost his inner power, he had already suffered severe damage. Now, with an arm severed, he appeared to have aged decades, barely clinging to life.

Aizen quickly knelt down, his hands moving like lightning as he pressed on several of Christopher’s major acupoints.

Then, he tore apart his own robe to bind Christopher’s wound.

The severed arm could not be reattached.

Though ancient texts spoke of miraculous individuals capable of reattaching limbs, such people were as elusive as dragons in the clouds. Who could possibly encounter one?

Aizen lifted Christopher’s robust body and swiftly carried him toward the inner courtyard of the mansion.

This man, weighing over two hundred pounds, felt as light as a feather in Christopher’s grasp. Despite the added burden, his speed had increased significantly compared to before.

This misfortune had indeed turned into a blessing.

The boiling frenzy of Demonic Blood had brought Aizen to the brink of disaster, but it also helped him refine ten years’ worth of inner power, unblock over thirty acupoints, and open four meridians.

Now, Aizen had successfully opened 97 acupoints, and ten out of the twelve principal meridians were fully cleared.

This breakthrough saved him considerable time and energy.

With thirty years of inner power now under his command, he estimated it would only take three to five days to fully refine the remaining five years of foreign inner power.

Afterward, with some time to consolidate and stabilize his cultivation, he would naturally reach the stage of hundred acupoints opened and twelve meridians cleared.

"Every cloud has a silver lining."

Aizen’s strength had surged dramatically.

Still, this experience had been extremely perilous. Without Christopher’s timely intervention to awaken him, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Christopher was someone Aizen had already planned to cultivate as a trusted aide.

His decision to cripple Christopher’s Sorcery arts earlier had been a calculated punishment, a means to temper and test him. Aizen had intended to later teach him the Stellar Absorption Technique and groom him as a key subordinate.

In Sorcery cultivation, aside from a few specialized internal techniques, transitioning from one style of internal energy cultivation to another typically required a complete reset of one’s progress.

Christopher’s talent was mediocre. Before his power was abolished, he had only managed to accumulate a mere ten-plus years of inner power.

With such limited strength, becoming a true expert was an arduous task, let alone breaking through to the .

However, if he were to learn the Stellar Absorption Technique, he could rapidly grow into a formidable warrior.

Although cultivating with excessively mixed inner power made breaking through to the Innate Realm exceedingly difficult, it wasn’t entirely impossible.

The challenge lay in refining the impure, chaotic energies absorbed through the technique into a state of pristine purity. This process could take as much time as cultivating inner power through traditional methods.

Aizen Was unwilling to spend so much time on such a process, but Christopher could choose this path.

It was akin to taking a loan—the "interest" being the inner power Christopher had painstakingly cultivated over ten years. In exchange, he would gain the Stellar Absorption Technique, allowing him to swiftly rise as a Sorcery expert.

He could enjoy the power of being a high-level Sorcery artist while gradually refining the absorbed inner power into a pure and flawless state.

If he ever managed to "repay the debt" of refining this energy, it might still be possible for him to achieve the Innate Magus Stage.

For a subordinate as loyal as Christopher, Aizen was more than willing to invest the Stellar Absorption Technique in his training.

While Aizen was inherently selfish, it didn’t mean he was stingy or lacked the capacity to value others.

It was simply that very few people ever earned a place in his heart.