Chapter Ten: The Blood Pearl

Wang Luo formed several intricate and mysterious hand signs, and the wound on the red-horned ox’s belly, which had stopped bleeding, began to writhe in an eerie manner.

Strands of fresh blood flew toward Wang Luo, gathering before him into a sphere of blood that hovered silently in midair.

The lion couple lay not far away, quietly watching Wang Luo, whose black hair fluttered as a chilling aura radiated from his entire being. Although they had witnessed this scene countless times, each occurrence left them uneasy. Yet, paradoxically, they hoped he would do this more often.

The blood sphere that floated before Wang Luo maintained the size of a fist despite the continuous infusion of blood. Its liquid grew richer and thicker, the mass beginning to pulse slowly. As more and more blood merged into it, the sphere became increasingly dense and unstable, quivering gently.

Seeing this, Wang Luo shifted his hands into another cryptic gesture, and a voice as cold as the underworld slipped from his lips: “Condense!”

It was as if his voice possessed a strange power. At the very instant the word fell, the blood sphere released a faint red glow and contracted sharply, transforming into a blood bead the size of a ping pong ball.

The bead shimmered with a bizarre luster, translucent yet suffused with a baleful radiance. Within it, threadlike currents of blood, like vipers, slithered restlessly.

The lion couple’s eyes lit up as they fixed their gaze on the bead. This was what they desired. The moment they first laid eyes on such a bead, they knew it would be of immense benefit to them.

Thus, every few days, they would bring back some prey specifically for Wang Luo to refine blood beads for their consumption.

After tossing the bead to the lion father and mother, Wang Luo continued refining, deftly creating one strange bead after another at his fingertips, tossing each to the eager lions.

At last, he crafted two beads the size of a pinky nail, signaling the end of this session. By now, the great body of the red-horned ox had shrunk by half, its exposed flesh dried and pallid as bone.

Wang Luo closed his eyes once more. When he opened them, he was again just an ordinary little boy. But just then, a strange wind rose suddenly.

The carcass of the red-horned ox before Wang Luo crackled and spat a cloud of dust into the air. When the wind died and the dust settled, Wang Luo stood motionless, his entire body coated in gray powder, transformed into a clay figurine.

Furious, he glared at the lion father, who wore a look of smug satisfaction, and charged at him, shouting. But before he reached the lion, there was a loud splash—he’d been tossed straight into the pond.

From the shore came the lion father’s triumphant roar, mingled with the soft whining of the little white lion. The lion mother watched it all, speechless.

Climbing out of the pond, Wang Luo shot a disgruntled look at the lion father, who was now enjoying a blood bead. Inwardly, he lamented, Why am I so unlucky? Forced to labor every day, bullied on top of it—I must endure, endure, endure…

The blood beads, refined according to the body-forging technique, were condensed from extracted essence blood and could directly replenish blood energy, but their shelf life was only a day.

Wang Luo had made a great resolve to practice this sinister art. The first time he refined a blood bead, he’d startled the entire lion family, but they gradually grew used to it. In fact, the lions were quite fond of the beads.

The little white lion, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan. The first time he swallowed one the size of a ping pong ball, he ended up sleeping for an entire month. Ever since, he refused the beads, but the lion couple would not allow it; so each day, the little white lion had to dutifully eat a small bead with Wang Luo.

After their meal, it was time for a nap. The lion family sauntered to their cave, leaving behind a mess of bones and a discarded ox hide by the pond, under which who knows what oddities were buried.

Daylight faded quickly, and night arrived on schedule. Two bright moons hung in the sky, casting gentle silver light. In the distance, occasional roars of beasts echoed from the wild.

Inside the lion’s cave, gemstones were scattered across the ground and embedded in the ceiling, bathing the den in a faint, mesmerizing glow.

In a room to the right, the three lions lounged comfortably on a bed of soft, nameless wild grass, listening quietly as Wang Luo recounted another unknown tale.

In the past, the little white lion would stay up playing until very late each night, and Wang Luo had no choice but to accompany him, as the cub was hopelessly attached to him.

Wang Luo was fond of the little white lion as well, but he also needed to train and couldn’t just ignore him. So, he came up with the idea of telling stories. Whether the little cub understood them or not, Wang Luo wasn’t sure.

Yet, whenever he started a story, the little white lion would lie quietly by his side, and invariably, just as the tale reached a climax, the cub would fall promptly asleep.

Tonight unfolded no differently. The little white lion dozed off mid-story, so Wang Luo saved the rest for tomorrow.

Whether the cub understood or not, Wang Luo didn’t know. What he did know was that the lion couple definitely understood—and remembered everything. On nights when Wang Luo ran out of new stories and started repeating old ones, the lion father would glare at him and grunt with displeasure. Only then did Wang Luo realize that the adults could understand his tales.

After years of nightly storytelling, the reserves of knowledge inside Wang Luo had long since been exhausted. These days, the stories he told were entirely his own invention, spinning new threads as inspiration struck, changing plotlines when things didn’t flow, and never missing an evening.

He found that his greatest gain from this practice was the tremendous improvement in his language skills and his ability to analyze problems.

Once the little white lion was asleep, there was a short window that was the lion father’s favorite time of night—for then he could ignore the lion mother and give Wang Luo a thorough beating, which brought him immense satisfaction.

Wang Luo treated these beatings as physical training; after all, practicing the body-forging technique was a form of self-punishment. Though each bout left him sore and bruised, Wang Luo endured, telling himself he must persist.

Having survived the assassin training camp, he knew that to avoid being bullied and to live a better life, he had to become stronger than others. And to be stronger, he naturally had to work harder.

Outside the lion’s cave, the lion father stood lazily at the entrance, a teasing smile on his face. With each swipe of his paw, he sent Wang Luo flying, slamming him into the ground with a satisfying thud, only for Wang Luo to charge back up, and be tossed down again.

“Stop!” Wang Luo finally called out after being thrown a dozen times. Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, he sat cross-legged and entered a meditative state.

The lion father snorted dismissively, but his eyes shone with undisguised pride and affection.

Just then, the lion father’s expression changed, replaced swiftly by a look of irrepressible joy. He glanced at Wang Luo, who was deep in cultivation, then turned and walked into the resplendent lion’s cave.

Otherworld Azure Dragon, Chapter Ten: Blood Beads—Updated!