The man had once read records of blood sacrifices in the Blood Fiend Technique. Coincidentally, he knew a place that was perfectly suited for such a ritual.
He wouldn't even need to capture children for the sacrifice—there were already plenty of candidates on-site.
The only pity was the absence of a cultivator's flesh and blood as an offering, which meant he couldn't break through his realm. But as long as he could recover from his injuries, that would be enough for now.
He coughed lightly, activated his spiritual power, and soon vanished into the ground.
It wasn't until dawn that the hurried and chaotic footsteps echoed once more through the residential area.
When the newcomer opened the door and saw the bloody scene before him, his eyes widened like copper bells, almost bursting with rage.
He slammed a heavy fist into the door, producing a dull thud. "Damn it! Still a step too late."
With a grim face, he turned and addressed the two who followed behind. A slim man frowned slightly.
His gaze passed over the figure blocking the doorway and peered inside. His pupils contracted.
"These demonic cultivators are getting more and more audacious..." he muttered and began taking photos to document the crime scene.
The other was a woman in Daoist robes. She stood quietly without speaking.
The burly man, after a moment of silence, said to her, "Call the police station. Have them send someone over to clean up."
Then, he kicked the door again in frustration. "Damn those Taoists on Mount Qingcheng! Bunch of unreliable bastards. After so many divinations, they still can't help us catch him in time!"
The woman narrowed her eyes but didn't respond. Instead, she stepped outside and made a call.
The slim man, named Wang Que, glanced at the burly man. "Zhang Yong, calm down. Losing your temper here won't help anything."
Wang Que, the team leader of this unit under the Qingshi Bureau of Paranormal Affairs, was one of the few cultivators among them.
The woman was Zheng Qing. Though her cultivation was only at the first layer of Qi Refinement, she was the strongest among them.
Based on reliable information, the demonic cultivator had been seriously injured after confronting an elder from Mount Qingcheng.
His power was now severely diminished, with perhaps less than one-tenth remaining. Along with modern weaponry and precious talismans like three Palm Thunder Talismans issued to their team, they had a good chance of subduing him—if they could locate him in time.
The issue was always the same: tracking him down. Mount Qingcheng's cultivators could only detect his location by sensing the spiritual fluctuation whenever he activated a technique.
But by the time Wang Que and his team received the coordinates, it was always an hour or two too late. He was cunning, hiding within urban areas where their hands were tied. Precision strikes or large-scale attacks weren't viable options in such densely populated zones.
That was why Zhang Yong was furious. He knew that if those Qingcheng elders truly wanted to, they could have ended this with a flick of the wrist. But unless someone poked the bear, they wouldn't move.
The only reason they'd acted before was because the demonic cultivator had foolishly provoked them.
Zhang Yong blamed himself too—if only his cultivation were stronger, he wouldn't have to watch helplessly while innocent lives were lost.
Wang Que, ever the composed one, patted his teammate's shoulder. "I know you're upset, but ranting won't help. Zheng Qing heard everything too—don't make it worse for her."
Zheng Qing was a disciple of Mount Qingcheng, transferred here as a goodwill gesture during early negotiations with the government.
Zhang Yong scoffed. "So what now? Just sit here and wait? Clean up after that bastard?"
Wang Que adjusted his glasses and his gaze turned icy. "We wait a couple more days. He's arrogant and prideful. He won't leave without trying something else. That's when he'll slip up."
Zhang Yong wasn't convinced. "So we just stand by and let innocent people die?"
Wang Que turned, his voice light. "If their deaths let us eliminate that demonic cultivator, if we can obtain the elusive Earth Escape technique he's using..." he said, "then it will have been worth it."
---
That morning passed peacefully. It was Friday—school would let out soon. Chen An lay on the sports field with his hands behind his head, basking lazily in the sun. It was a habit he'd picked up in a past life.
He vaguely remembered being sick, though he didn't recall what kind of illness. But back then, sunlight always made him feel better.
After school, he planned to visit the rural orphanage where he grew up. He'd give the dean the bank card and ask him to use the money to renovate the facility.
As he let his thoughts drift, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He thought of the little kids who always followed him around. Chen An was the orphanage's pride—smart, well-behaved, and often praised by the dean.
Every time he visited, he brought small snacks for the kids. It didn't cost much, but it made them happy for days. Over time, they'd become fond of clinging to him.
Many children had left the orphanage over the years, but few kept in touch. Most who grew up moved to the cities and rarely returned. Perhaps they wanted to—but life in the city moved too fast, pushing people forward, leaving no time for the past.
And so, Chen An had become the oldest remaining child at the orphanage. The others were six or seven years old at most, some even younger—just like when he was first taken in.
Times were changing, but that little orphanage seemed to have been left behind, stagnant and forgotten by the world.