Blood of the War Dragon

Chapter 5: The Blood Pool

The Desolate Sacred Body—praised as the greatest cultivation physique, yet condemned as the most useless.

What kind of twisted joke was that supposed to be?

Kael Draven frowned, his mind reeling. Eldric’s words didn’t make sense. How could one body be hailed as the ultimate gift for cultivation and, at the same time, cursed as the weakest crippled vessel?

“Eldric,” he muttered, his voice tight, “speak plainly. I don’t understand.”

“Of course, Master.”

The old steward’s tone was calm, gentle, and steady—like a teacher breaking things down for a child. “Your Desolate Sacred Body was once the most revered physique of the Desolate Era. Its cultivation speed was unmatched. But… it demands energy in colossal amounts. To feed it properly is nearly impossible.”

Kael Draven stayed silent. He stood at the edge of the blood pool, eyes locked on the dark, churning liquid. He had a sinking feeling that this so-called Desolate Sacred Body was exactly why he’d spent ten miserable years stuck in place.

“Without enough energy,” Eldric went on, “the Desolate Sacred Body turns against itself. Instead of rising above others, its cultivation slows to a crawl—even worse than an ordinary body. That is why it is both celebrated as the supreme physique and cursed as the most crippled.”

Finally, the pieces clicked together.

“Ten years ago,” Kael Draven said slowly, “I reached the Sixth Layer of Inner Strength. But when I tried to form the Perpetual Cycle, I not only failed—I fell all the way back to the Third Layer. Was that also because of this… Desolate Sacred Body?”

“That’s correct.” Eldric’s expression grew grave. “The body you carry devours far more power than the world’s natural energy can provide. When you tried to form the cycle, your strength was drained dry in an instant. To be blunt, Master, you were lucky. Falling back to the Third Layer was mercy. You could have been sucked dry, left as nothing but a withered husk.”

Lucky?

Kael Draven let out a sharp, humorless laugh. If this was what luck looked like, he wondered what misfortune would’ve been.

“From now on,” Eldric said, his voice smoothing again, “leave the matter of energy to me. Within the blood pool, I can refine soul essence into the purest force for your cultivation. I can also forge Soul Slaves here—beings that will fight by your side.”

“The blood pool?”

Kael Draven’s gaze shifted to it again. Crimson waves rippled, releasing a suffocating dread that seemed to claw at his chest. He looked away quickly, uneasy. “So what you’re saying is… if I want energy, or Soul Slaves, I’ll have to collect souls for you.”

“Correct, Master. As expected, you’re sharp.”

Sharp? Please. Anyone with half a brain would’ve pieced that together. Kael Draven shot him a dark glare that said exactly what he thought.

Unbothered, Eldric continued. “Master, the Nine Cycles of Samsara Technique within the Dragon Seal is among the strongest martial arts in existence. I urge you to practice it diligently.”

The Nine Cycles of Samsara…

So it was true. That strange technique that had suddenly appeared in his mind earlier had come from the seal.

“This technique,” Eldric said, his voice swelling with reverence, “defies the very heavens. Nine cycles in total. When you complete them all, you will stand at the absolute peak of the martial path. That day will come. And I, Eldric, await it eagerly.”

Nine cycles. Defying fate. Standing above all.

Kael Draven’s chest tightened. That dream—standing on the summit of the martial world—had been the fire driving him for years. It was why he had endured the sneers, the fists, the endless humiliation. Ten years of failure hadn’t broken him.

“That’s enough,” he finally said. “I’ve got other matters to attend to. How do I leave this place?”

“You may leave whenever you wish,” Eldric replied. “Nothing will stop you. And if you ever need me, simply connect your soul with the Dragon Seal, and I will bring you here.”

Kael Draven gave a short nod. His soul withdrew from the Dragon Seal Space, sliding back into his body.

“It seems my fortune’s finally turning,” he murmured, a faint crooked smile tugging at his lips. Whatever it was—fate, luck, or pure chance—it didn’t matter. This was his one shot. Without this power, he’d already be beaten senseless by his cousins, destined for nothing but mockery. Revenge and glory would’ve been forever out of reach.

Creak.

The warped wooden door scraped open and was shoved roughly aside.

A young woman stepped in. She was barely twenty, her oval face framed by delicate features and a sharp nose, her beauty undeniable.

Elira Draven. Elder sister of Darius Draven, Garrick Draven, and Ronan Draven. Fifth among the siblings.

Her eyes were sharp, glinting with both anger and disbelief. She stepped into the courtyard, gaze landing on Kael Draven, and let out a cold snort. “Seventh Brother, Grandfather calls for you. Go to the main hall. Immediately.”

Kael Draven had never liked her, nor her brothers. Still, she was his elder sister. He inclined his head slightly. “I understand, Fifth Sister.”

But Elira Draven didn’t leave. Her lips twisted into a sneer. “Seventh Brother, I know my brothers have bullied you, but you didn’t need to strike them so viciously. Do you have no sense of brotherhood left?”

Brotherhood?

Kael Draven almost laughed in her face. Clearly, she hadn’t come just to deliver a message—she came to scold him for daring to fight back.

“Fifth Sister, if you knew they tormented me, why didn’t you ever stop them?”

Her mouth opened, then closed. She had no answer. Of course, she hadn’t defended him. She had enjoyed watching him suffer, watching the family’s former genius get trampled into the dirt by her brothers.

Kael Draven could read it all in her silence.

His voice dropped cold. “For ten years, they mocked me, humiliated me. Tell me—when did they ever treat me like a brother?”

Her jaw tightened. “Enough. I know you’ve carried resentment for years. They say you’ve condensed inner strength at last. If that’s true, then in the family trial one month from now, I expect you to challenge me. I’ll see for myself if your arrogance matches your ability.”

So that was her real reason.

She turned, stepping toward the door. At the threshold, she paused, her voice drifting back like a knife’s edge. “If you refuse, then you will kneel before my brothers and admit you were wrong.”

Then she was gone.

Kael Draven’s fists clenched until his knuckles popped. How could he possibly endure this? No. He wouldn’t. Not anymore. He had the strength now. Seventh Layer of Inner Strength—while Elira Draven was only at the peak of the Sixth.

Watching her disappear into the distance, his eyes burned like fire. “Don’t worry. One month from now, I’ll face you myself. I’ll prove to the entire family that I, Kael Draven, am no waste. I’ll shut every last one of their mouths.”

He had wanted to stay in peace, to cultivate quietly. But since his grandfather had called for him, he quickly washed up, left his courtyard, and strode toward the Draven family’s main hall.

It had been eight years since he last saw the old man. And the reason was simple: in the eyes of the patriarch, the grandson who had once been a prodigy had long since become nothing but a disgrace.