Chapter Thirty-Six: Devouring Energy

While Ye Cheng was hiding in the cave, devouring the energy of the blood core, elsewhere in the Demon Forest, a black figure flashed by and landed atop a tree branch. The figure carried a black blade on his back—obviously, it was the same black-robed middle-aged man who had just split the blood python with a single strike.

As the view drew closer, the mysterious man with the black blade revealed broad shoulders beneath a long black robe, the chest straps undone to expose a coppery torso marred by several shocking scars. His square, dark face was covered in bristly stubble, and an aura of lethal menace clung to him, as if he had crawled up from the depths of hell.

At this moment, the middle-aged man gazed into the direction where Ye Cheng was concealed. His previously indifferent expression softened, and a faint smile played at his lips as he muttered to himself, “His strength is indeed impressive; no wonder Old Master Ye holds him in such regard. Well, this is a good opportunity to repay a favor owed for many years.” With that, he withdrew his gaze, leapt forward, and vanished into the forest.

…

Thunder rumbled overhead as streaks of silver lightning slithered across the dark, oppressive sky, each flash accompanied by sharp, crackling peals. In an instant, rain poured down like a curtain, drenching the land.

On this pitch-black rainy night, the torrential downpour assailed the Demon Forest, shrouding the entire mountain range. Fierce winds howled through the woods, stirring the branches with a furious rustling. Occasionally, a bolt of thunder would erupt across the heavens, its booming echo reverberating among the peaks, lingering long after.

Within a cave at the base of a rocky cliff in the forest, an elderly, insubstantial figure stood with his hands behind his back—Mu Lao. He looked somewhat hunched, his form faint, yet his gaze was fixed intently on the youth seated cross-legged before him, hands cupping two pieces of blood-red crystal.

Ye Cheng was wholly absorbed in circulating the Devouring Spirit Technique, channeling his energy along its prescribed meridians. Waves of devouring force surged into his palms as the color of the blood cores slowly faded, imperceptible to the naked eye. The energy within the cores was being drawn through his hands and absorbed into his body.

But as the energy was consumed, its wild and bloodthirsty nature erupted, flooding Ye Cheng’s body. The surging blood energy inside him churned like boiling water, draining the color from his face as he endured the pain tearing through his meridians.

Yet, with each cycle of the Devouring Spirit Technique, the pain lessened. Much of the violence within the energy dissipated, leaving behind a noticeably purer essence. Clearly, the greatest strength of the Devouring Spirit Technique was its ability to purify the blood core’s negative effects.

Ye Cheng quickly realized why ordinary martial artists could not refine blood cores from magical beasts—the berserk, bloodthirsty energy would drive a cultivator mad in an instant. He knew all too well what happened to those who lost control: at best, ruptured meridians and loss of cultivation; at worst, death. Some had tried before, but each attempt ended in disaster. Since then, few dared risk such reckless acts.

Every time Ye Cheng absorbed energy from the blood core, pain flickered across his face. But after several hours, he gradually adapted, and the steady growth of blood energy within made the agony bearable—even welcome.

“A person born with a devouring constitution truly is remarkable. Paired with the Devouring Spirit Technique, he can so thoroughly neutralize the core’s side effects.” Mu Lao’s usually clouded eyes gleamed with sharp insight as he observed Ye Cheng’s condition, his expression tinged with astonishment.

After several hours, the blood cores in Ye Cheng’s hands had become completely transparent, their energy utterly consumed, leaving only empty shells.

But Ye Cheng did not stop. Fresh blood energy brewed within him, threads of it rising through his meridians, gathering and merging with the newly formed energy.

Suddenly, a surge of power, stronger than before, burst forth from Ye Cheng’s body. His clothing tore apart as seventeen crimson lines appeared across his skin—three more than before, all forged from just two blood cores.

“What astonishing speed,” Ye Cheng thought, satisfaction blooming on his refined features. In the past, cultivating a single blood line would take a month, but tonight he had gained three in just a few hours. He hadn’t expected the blood cores to accelerate his cultivation so dramatically.

He slowly opened his eyes, a flash of red glinting in the darkness. Clenching his fists, he felt the surge of newfound strength.

Without rising, he formed a fist and unleashed the martial art “Rushing Thunder,” slamming his fist into the solid cave wall.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The cave shuddered violently, and three thunderous booms echoed from the point of impact, reverberating through the cavern for a long while. Chunks of stone flew, and a half-meter-deep crater appeared in the rock wall.

“The third level of hidden force!”

Staring at the destruction he had wrought, Ye Cheng was momentarily stunned, but then joy flooded his face. He had finally mastered the third level of “Rushing Thunder,” something that had eluded him until now. With his recent breakthrough, he executed all three levels in one seamless motion.

Thinking of how his future cultivation would advance even faster, Ye Cheng’s happiness only grew.

“These blood cores truly are remarkable!”

As Ye Cheng emerged from his cultivation, Mu Lao, who had been shocked by the wonders of Ye Cheng’s devouring constitution, schooled his expression and spoke:

“These blood cores are indeed excellent medicine for you, but you must not rely on them constantly. Remember, swallowing energy without consolidating your foundation will turn medicine into poison. Cultivation requires building a solid base above all. You must not be impatient for quick results.”

Ye Cheng sheepishly tapped his head, realizing he had almost been swept away by the thrill of rapid progress. He chuckled awkwardly, “Good thing I have teacher’s reminder.”

Mu Lao shot him a look and continued, “You now possess an advantage others lack. It’s as if you are cultivating atop a giant’s shoulders. You are fortunate to have obtained the Devouring Spirit Technique; those before you who also possessed the devouring constitution never had such a method, and their opportunities were far less…”

“Others had the devouring constitution but no technique like this one?”

Swallowing Saint, Chapter Thirty-Six: Devouring Energy—End of update.