Bloody Harem System

A Bloody Report

Victor Vale stared at the fresh blood ruining his polished floorboards. The drops fell from Blake Mercer’s mangled right arm. Two outer sect guards held the weeping prodigy upright in the center of the Jade Study. The boy’s face was pale and slick with cold sweat. His forearm bent at an unnatural angle. Shards of jagged bone pressed against his bruised skin from the inside.

Clara stood a few paces behind the guards. She clutched a thick silk wrap around her body. She trembled visibly in the warm room.

"Explain this," Victor ordered. His voice was deathly quiet.

"It was Arthur Drake," Clara said. She wrapped her arms around herself. "He is not crippled anymore. He has broken through to the first stage of Qi Condensation. He shattered Blake Mercer’s arm with a single grip."

Victor stood up from his mahogany desk. He walked slowly around the heavy wooden furniture. He stopped in front of the sobbing prodigy. He reached out and grabbed Blake Mercer’s broken wrist.

Blake Mercer screamed in raw agony. His knees buckled, but the guards held him in place.

Victor ignored the noise. He pressed his thumb against the swollen flesh, feeling the crushed bone beneath. The injury was catastrophic. The radius and ulna were pulverized into splinters. No basic healing pill could fix this level of structural damage. The boy would never hold a sword properly again. The sect’s greatest outer talent was now useless.

Victor released the wrist. He turned his cold gaze toward his daughter.

"You told me you watched the guards beat him to a pulp just hours ago," Victor said. "You said they shattered his legs and broke his ribs. A mortal does not heal broken bones in two hours. A mortal does not form a spiritual core in a single night."

"I saw his Qi with my own eyes," Clara insisted. Her voice bordered on hysteria. "It was thick and crimson. He moved faster than Blake Mercer could swing. He did not even get out of bed to break his arm. And Serena was there with him. She was in his bed."

Victor narrowed his eyes. The involvement of the Third Elder’s daughter complicated the political situation immensely. But the real threat was Arthur Drake’s sudden power. The puzzle pieces clicked together in the Sect Master’s paranoid mind.

He thought back to the unpolished jade pendant the boy wore around his neck. The old master had handed it to his grandson on his deathbed. Victor had examined the stone years ago. He had found no spiritual energy inside it. He had assumed it was just a worthless trinket. He had been wrong.

"The blood," Victor muttered to himself. "The guards beat him near death. His royal blood soaked the pendant. The old fool hid a bloodline inheritance inside the stone. He locked his core cultivation away and left it for the boy to claim."

The realization sent a spike of genuine fear through Victor’s chest. The Cerulean Crest Order did not belong to him. He had stolen it through manipulation and false promises. If Arthur Drake possessed the old master’s true inheritance, the boy would grow at a terrifying rate. He would rally the loyalist elders. He would take the sect back by force.

Victor could not allow that. He needed to sever the root before the tree could grow.

"Take this useless trash to the healers," Victor told the guards, gesturing to Blake Mercer. "Tell them to amputate the arm. Do not waste expensive pills trying to save it. Then confine my daughter to her quarters. She is not to speak to anyone."

"Father, wait," Clara pleaded. "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to fix my mistake," Victor replied.

He waited until the guards dragged the crying boy out of the study. Clara followed them, her head bowed in shame. The doors clicked shut.

Victor walked to the dark corner of his study. He reached out and tapped a specific rhythm against the stone wall. The shadows in the corner shifted. Two figures stepped out of the darkness, melting into the candlelight.

They wore tight leather armor dyed pitch black. Their faces were hidden behind featureless iron masks. Short, curved daggers rested in sheaths strapped to their thighs. They were elite enforcers from the Phantom Blade Clan. Victor kept them on a retainer for tasks the orthodox sect could never officially sanction.

"The target is Arthur Drake," Victor commanded. "He is currently located in the servant annex attached to the Lotus Pavilion. He possesses a Qi Condensation cultivation base. Do not underestimate him. Bring me his head. And bring me the jade pendant hanging around his neck."

The two assassins bowed silently. They stepped backward, dissolving into the shadows of the study without making a single sound.

Across the sect compound, inside the barricaded servant quarters, Arthur Drake was already moving. He felt a sudden, sharp prickle of warning at the base of his neck. The system did not issue an alert, but his heightened senses picked up the subtle shift in the night air. The element of surprise was gone. Victor Vale was a ruthless survivor. The Sect Master would send killers before the sun rose.

Arthur Drake opened his system interface. He had fifteen thousand Blood Essence remaining from his encounter with Serena. He navigated to the skill market.

[Purchase Qi Concealment Lv1? Cost: 1000 Blood Essence.]

He confirmed the purchase. The knowledge flowed into his brain, cool and calming. The skill allowed him to mask his spiritual signature and the signature of anyone he maintained physical contact with provided they are both QI Condensation Stage 1 or less. They would appear as ordinary mortals to any tracking techniques.

He looked at Serena. She had retrieved a spare set of dark grey servant clothes from an old chest in the corner of his room. The coarse fabric replaced her torn silk robes. She tied a thick cloth belt around her waist, securing her simple steel sword at her hip. She looked serious and ready.

"We are leaving," Arthur Drake said. "Victor will send assassins tonight. We cannot fight elite killers inside a walled compound. We need space."

Serena nodded. She stepped close to him. "Where do we go?"

"The mortal city," Arthur Drake replied. "We need currency and supplies”

He placed his hand on her shoulder. He activated Qi Concealment. A thin, invisible veil dropped over both of them. The dense crimson aura radiating from his core vanished instantly. Serena felt her own blue Qi signature mute and flatten until she felt like a common merchant.

Arthur Drake kicked the wooden barricade. The shattered door frame groaned and gave way. They slipped out of the cramped annex and stepped into the cold courtyard.

The Cerulean Crest Order was a fortress built onto the side of a steep mountain. High stone walls surrounded the inner pavilions. Heavily armed patrols walked the perimeter every fifteen minutes. Escaping required precise timing and sheer speed.

Arthur Drake grabbed Serena’s hand. He channeled his Qi into his legs.

"Keep up," he whispered.

He activated Crimson Flash. His body blurred into a streak of red mist, pulling Serena along with him. They shot across the open courtyard, moving far faster than the naked eye could track. They bypassed the main gates entirely, heading for the eastern wall near the cliff edge.

A pair of outer sect guards stood near the stone battlements, holding heavy iron lanterns. They were laughing and sharing a flask of cheap wine.

Arthur Drake dropped his stealth movement ten feet away from them. He stepped out of the shadows, pulling Serena behind him. The sudden appearance of two figures made the guards drop their flask. They reached for their swords.

Arthur Drake did not give them time to draw steel. He locked eyes with the guard on the left.

He activated the Fear attribute. His dark pupils dilated, flashing with a terrifying, predatory intent. The guard froze instantly. The man’s jaw went slack. The sword slipped from his fingers as his brain locked up in terror.

Arthur Drake pivoted smoothly. He drove his palm into the second guard’s chest. The concussive burst of Qi sent the man flying backward. His head cracked violently against the stone wall, knocking him unconscious immediately. Arthur Drake spun back to the first guard, delivering a sharp strike to the side of his neck before the two second stun duration expired.

Both guards lay crumpled on the stone walkway. The encounter had lasted less than three seconds.

Serena watched him work. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She was amazed by his ruthless efficiency. He fought with a brutal precision she had never seen in the orthodox sparring rings.

"Over the wall," Arthur Drake commanded.

He grabbed her waist and vaulted over the high stone battlements. They landed softly on the steep, winding stairway known as the Ascendant's Path. The thousands of jagged stone steps led directly down the mountain toward the sprawling mortal city below.

The freezing mountain wind whipped at their dark clothes. Arthur Drake did not stop to look back at the grand pavilions of his former prison. He kept his grip on Serena’s hand, leading her rapidly down the dark stairs.

Behind them, inside the ruined servant quarters, two Phantom Blade assassins dropped silently from the ceiling rafters. They found the bed empty and the barricade broken. The target was gone but they will hunt him to death.