He allowed his Jade Circle Formation to falter, concentrating the blades on his right side. On the left, four thinner arena slaves immediately took advantage of the opening. They launched savage claw attacks, aiming for his waist.

  SHIING!

  The four poisonous claws tore his red silk robe and pierced his skin. Blood spurted from four vertical gashes on his left side. The pain, instead of making him retreat, triggered a wild surge of Black Jade Essence.

  At the same time, the blood sword blades in his right hand merged. A deadly Blood Jade Slash, enhanced by the Azure Holy Flame which now danced in a purple-red hue, shot out. Zhi Xuan rotated his body, swinging the solid blade horizontally at the three arena slaves on his right side.

  CRACK! SHIING! THUD!

  The blade penetrated their Essence defenses, cutting tendons and splitting chests. Two arena slaves fell, their bodies divided, the fourth and fifth Blood Crystals beginning to form. The third slave, with exposed intestines, screamed hoarsely and stumbled, but was not yet dead.

  Seven Blood Crystals, two from the Blood Reaver and the Deathbringer, five from the harvested slaves. The blood spurting from his new wounds flowed heavily down his thigh, mixing with the foul essence that lingered. But Zhi Xuan did not care.

  He felt the joyful thrumming of the Devil Soul, a perfect resonance with pain and killing. His sapphire eyes were now completely swallowed by the red circle. He only saw targets, blood, and Blood Crystals. Seventeen opponents now remained fifteen.

  With four new, deep gashes on his left waist, Zhi Xuan felt blood flowing freely. However, the pain was now blurred, dominated by the cold and joyful pulse of his Devil Seed core.

  He did not retreat; he leaped forward, forcing the remaining fifteen arena slaves to revolve around him. The movement was a brutal dance of death.

  Zhi Xuan moved like a pendulum of death, the Blood Jade Slash in his right hand spinning with terrifying speed, driven by cold killing intent. He allowed his body to be bait, risking every wound for one certain death.

  Xiao Die, on his shoulder, hummed non-stop. Its purifying pollen was now released in a constant stream, calming Zhi Xuan's turbulent spiritual blood, and most importantly, absorbing the foul Essence from the new wounds, diverting it to the Devil Seed.

  "Six!" the Arena Guide roared, his voice choked with madness. "He jumped into the sea of blood! He wants to finish them all in one breath!"

  In the stands, the atmosphere had reached a boiling point. There were no more calm bets; there were only wild shouts demanding more blood and cruelty.

  "He is insane! He is covered in blood, but he does not stop!" a female cultivator screamed. "His spiritual blood must contain ancient healing poison!"

  "Not healing! It is sacrificial blood! He uses the wounds to trigger his strength! He is the true Black-Haired Devil! Kill! Kill!" another chimed in, throwing a pouch of spiritual stones into the air, uncaring of where it landed.

  Zhi Xuan ignored the noise. He only heard the hungry pulse of the Devil Seed. He aimed for the third arena slave who had previously stumbled with exposed intestines. That slave, still crawling, was the easiest sixth Blood Crystal. Zhi Xuan darted behind him, swinging the Azure Holy Flame-enhanced Blood Jade Slash.

  SHIING!

  The solid blade pierced the slave's neck with a hoarse sound. The body collapsed, and the sixth Blood Crystal, mixed with foul intestinal fluid, formed. Fifteen opponents now remained fourteen.

  The action, for a moment, left Zhi Xuan's back exposed. Three of the most savage arena slaves leaped. Their fists and feet struck Zhi Xuan's back simultaneously.

  THUMP! CRACK!

  This time, the sound of cracking bone was clear, penetrating the cheers. Zhi Xuan spat out a large mouthful of blood onto the sand. The blood was no longer just bright red; it was now dark, filled with fragments of Spiritual Essence. His ribs were shattered. Even with the cold suppression from the Devil Soul, the pain was deadly.

  But before he fell, something extraordinary happened. Every drop of his blood that fell onto the sand, every foul spiritual Essence from the arena slaves he killed, did not disappear. Zhi Xuan’s spiritual blood, propelled by the Law of Spring from the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron and strengthened by Xiao Die's catalyst, began to reverse.

  It was not just healing; it was devouring.

  The meridians throughout Zhi Xuan's body, which had felt cramped and sealed, now pulsed and widened. His blood vessels, filled with Black Jade spiritual blood, flowed at a speed that exceeded the limit of his Blood Transformation Dawn Phase realm.

  A cold and deadly wave of energy exploded from the core of his Wheel of Heavenly Samsara. The pain from the shattered ribs, though still present, felt like a powerful impetus, not an obstruction.

  His spiritual blood spread throughout his newly widened meridians, repairing old and new tears with terrifying speed.

  Zhi Xuan had broken the barrier. He was now in the Blood Transformation Eclipse Phase—a phase where his Spiritual Blood reached the mid-realm, purer, denser, and capable of holding a much greater density of essence. This realm advancement was triggered by mass bloodshed and extreme sacrifice.

  Zhi Xuan looked up. In his eyes, the red flash burned like a newly born dwarf star. He was no longer staggering. He stood tall, allowing the blood to flow freely from his wounds.

  "He... he advanced his realm stage!" an Organ Transformation cultivator in the stands roared, his eyes wide with disbelief and horror. "He used his enemies' blood to reach the realm! He is a true Blood Devil!"

  The horror spread like a plague. The previously excited spectators were now silent. They watched the youth, bathed in blood, his ribs cracked, yet his aura suddenly soared. This was not just a fight; this was a Devil Dao Ritual.

  "Look! His blood is not dripping! It is evaporating!" another shouted.

  Indeed, Zhi Xuan’s Spiritual Blood, which now possessed a density and purity that surpassed the Dawn Phase, began to evaporate into a thin red-black mist around his body, instead of dripping. The mist was absorbed by his skin, triggering a very rapid recovery.

  The three arena slaves who had just struck him retreated one step, their primitive instinct telling them that the prey they faced had suddenly become a far more terrifying predator.

  Zhi Xuan smiled. The smile was cold, cruel, and filled with the authority of the Devil Soul that was now fully integrated. He felt every muscle, every blood vessel, and every meridian pulsing with new strength.

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  "The harvest has arrived," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice hoarse. He no longer relied on the solid Blood Jade Slash.

  Zhi Xuan stepped forward, his hand open. His Blood Whirlwind Sword Formation, now injected with the Eclipse Phase essence density, reappeared. However, this time, the vortex was no longer just blades; it was a fusion of blood mist and dark purple fire spinning at a terrifying speed, enveloping Zhi Xuan.

  "Blood Whirlwind!"

  The vortex shot forward, no longer one by one, but as a wave of blood. The three trembling arena slaves did not even have time to raise their hands. They were instantly dissolved by the terrifying rotation. Flesh, bone, and essence, all torn apart.

  SHIING! SHIING! SHIING!

  Three new Blood Crystals, the seventh, eighth, and ninth, formed in the remaining pool of blood. Zhi Xuan had harvested eleven blood crystals. Yet that did not make him feel satisfied, he still needed more.

  The eleven remaining arena slaves, who witnessed their three comrades dissolved in the blink of an eye, finally realized the horror they faced. They were no longer driven by killing instinct; they were driven by genuine desperation and fear.

  They screamed, not out of savagery, but out of programmed terror. They turned, attempting to flee back to the iron bars, but the Arena Guide and Jue Mu had closed them. They were trapped.

  Zhi Xuan stepped slowly toward them, his Eclipse Phase Blood Whirlwind spinning, emitting a cold resonance. In the eyes of the spectators, he was the most terrifying incarnation of the Black-Haired Devil, born in the midst of a mass blood ritual.

  "Eleven," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice filled with the promise of inevitable cruelty. "I need more."

  However, just as all the cheers of cruelty urged him to immediately finish off all the arena slaves, the iris of his eye trembled faintly and his pupil slightly wavered. It was only because of one sound in his sea of consciousness, a single chime from a hidden hairpin beneath his robe, the warmth of the red cloth hugging one of his arms.

  Right in the middle of his spinning spiritual blood essence vortex, Zhi Xuan froze. The cruel smile that had just bloomed vanished drastically, replaced by a blank, almost fearful expression.

  The blood-red flash in his eyes dimmed, leaving a small piece of cold sapphire struggling to reappear. His Blood Whirlwind, which had been spinning savagely, slowed to almost static, emitting a low, shocked hum.

  The eleven remaining arena slaves, already on the verge of hysteria, did not realize this pause. They only saw a chance to flee, crawling on the black sand towards the closed bars.

  However, the audience—the cold-blooded cultivators accustomed to reading killing intent—immediately felt the change in the atmosphere. Those who had been screaming hysterically were now silent, gripped by a tense confusion.

  "What is happening?" an Organ Transformation cultivator whispered, his voice filled with displeasure. "Why did the Black-Haired Devil stop? Has he run out of essence?"

  "No! His aura is still strong! Look, his Vortex is still there!" another refuted, pointing his hand. "He just broke through the realm! Has some cultivator disturbed him?"

  The atmosphere in the stands changed from bloody madness to a tense silence filled with frustration. They had been served the bloodiest ritual and the most spectacular realm promotion, only to see the main star suddenly stop in the middle of the show.

  The Arena Guide, with his uneasy writhing dragon tattoo, yelled, "Hey! Black-Haired Devil! Finish your harvest! Do not let those Blood Crystals crawl away!"

  The Arena Guide's shouting was ineffective. Zhi Xuan stood like a jade statue that had just touched ice water. His hand, which controlled the Blood Whirlwind, trembled slightly, but not from exhaustion.

  The tremor came from within his soul. In his sea of consciousness, the loud, mocking laughter of the Devil Soul vanished. The bitter voices of his past—rejection, scorn, and loneliness—which had just been absorbed into strength, were heard again.

  However, this time, they did not come from the Devil Soul. They came from a memory protected by the two small objects he wore. The faint chime from the hidden hairpin beneath his robe, the Heart-Nourishing Jade, seemed to ring a bell in the darkness, reminding him of the initial purpose of all this; not strength, not cruelty, but protection.

  And the warmth of the red cloth on his arm, the fold where Xiao Die was hiding, reminded him of something from his childhood, how he was just a vulnerable, innocent child who always looked at the stars in the sky.

  Zhi Xuan momentarily sank into his sea of consciousness, falling. His eyes opened, and he saw his own body swallowed by his sea of consciousness, his body felt heavy and difficult to reach the water to rise. His sea of consciousness, now dark red, was not like his own sea of consciousness.

  In the midst of his fall, Zhi Xuan saw fragments of memories surrounding his sea of consciousness, things he tried to forget, tried to dismiss as they would only hinder him, now feeling like anchors binding his body.

  The memories pierced him sharply, but also wrapped around his body. Zhi Xuan stared at the mirror-like fragments, amid his confusion. The mirror shifted into a memory, decades ago, he was just a village youth who had to leave for a mission to protect his village.

  "Zhi Xuan,"

  The voice was the memory of Aunt Lian, a woman more like a mother from his childhood. At that time, she held Zhi Xuan's hand, her hand felt warm.

  "Here."

  Aunt Lian handed over the jade hairpin. She said it was the Heart-Nourishing Jade, the result of years of saving essence while tending the herbal garden, saying that it would always guard Zhi Xuan and calm his Divine Wheel when restless.

  Zhi Xuan looked at it, raising his hand. All he felt was catching empty water, yet he seemed to grasp the jade hairpin. It felt cold and soothing in his palm, as if it were the same day he received it.

  "Aunt Lian... This..."

  At that time, Zhi Xuan snorted harshly, he could not even shed his tears, it would only make it harder for him to leave the village, to embark on his first mission. Zhi Xuan could see, Aunt Lian smiled gently, betraying her teary eyes.

  Then, the fragment changed, to when Aunt Lian handed over the old red cloth. The cloth was the remnant of the baby blanket when he was found, adorned with fading small star embroidery, showing that Aunt Lian knew Zhi Xuan often gazed at the night.

  "Here," Aunt Lian whispered, tears streaming down her dull cheeks at that moment, the tears of a mother releasing her child to leave.

  "The cloth you wore when you were found in the basket, under the banyan tree."

  Zhi Xuan, trying to reach for the cloth with difficulty, chains of blood stretching out from his sea of consciousness, wrapped around him. Pressing him to fall deeper, pulling his soul to let the devil seed fully rise.

  "I kept it. I embroidered these star flowers so you would remember where your heart lies. Never forget us, child."

  At that moment, Zhi Xuan held his breath, he was about to cry. His body trembled, and he could not hold back the deep feeling of longing and sadness for Aunt Lian.

  "Aunt Lian,"

  Zhi Xuan said then, his voice hoarse. Zhi Xuan tied the red cloth on his arm, hidden inside his robe. He bowed deeply, like a tall, strong tree, yet bowing to the roots that once gave him life.

  "I will never forget. I... will return."

  The memory was like a cold and pure counter-current, washing his blood-filled sea of consciousness. The chains of blood stretching from the Devil's depths began to loosen, and Zhi Xuan's body—his soul—slowly floated up from the red sea.

  He did not reject the devil's desire; he overlaid it with the heavier burden of warmth and promises. The Devil's desire was cold and efficient, but the promise to Aunt Lian and the village was a far older root.

  'Pathetic mortal memories,' Ruo Xianxue echoed, her voice now sounding very distant, no longer close. The Ancient Devil Monument sneered, but its power to influence was now greatly diminished.

  Zhi Xuan felt a painful tug on his body, the chains of blood stretching from his dark red sea of consciousness now pulling him deeper, towards the Devil Seed. However, between the suffocating chains, he felt the cold, soothing touch of the Heart-Nourishing Jade and the warmth of the red cloth.

  Those two mortal objects, carried from a mortal and kind world, felt heavier and more real than the promise of power from the Devil Dao.

  "I will return..." Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice echoing in the sea of consciousness, fighting the howl of the devil's desire that wanted to drown him.

  He could not cry then. He was too young and too proud to show weakness. But the pain of having to leave the only warmth he had ever known was a poison that had long gnawed at his soul. His Devil Soul had used that poison as strength.

  Zhi Xuan forced himself. He could not climb the water; he had to climb the memories.

  "I am not a vessel of hatred!" Zhi Xuan roared in the turbulent sea of consciousness. He focused his Wheel of Heavenly Samsara, forcing it to spin. This time, the Azure Holy Flame was not aimed to attack, but to purify his own sea of consciousness.

  The dark purple flame spread, burning the dark red mist injected by the Devil Soul. The memory fragments—the Heart-Nourishing Jade and the star-embroidered red cloth—now shone, acting as anchors pulling him up, out of the sinking sea.

  Zhi Xuan's figure in the sea of consciousness suddenly flinched. He felt the blood chains break, and he leaped up, out of the turbulent sea of consciousness.

  Zhi Xuan, who now stood in the center of his sea of consciousness, no longer saw the figure of Aunt Lian. He saw his own reflection; a blood-stained cultivator with struggling eyes. The red circle in his eyes was still there, but the sapphire light had returned, brighter, colder, and harder than before. He was now above, not below.