Chapter Sixteen: Bloodline

Ji Hao stood under the gaze of the crowd and crooked his finger at Ji Shu. Ji Xia burst out laughing, taking two steps back, and boasted proudly to the clansmen around him, “That’s my boy. Ha, this is a son of the Ji Xia family!”

Ji Shu’s pale face twitched, but he managed a calm smile and retreated with poise. He shook his head gently and sneered, “Xia, elder brother, do you know why I am contending for your position before the ancestral spirits? Because I am stronger than you, in every aspect—whether myself or my son, we surpass you.”

Raising both hands high, he turned to look at the clansmen surrounding them and spoke in a cold voice, “In the Southern Wilds, strength determines status. Do I need to repeat our rules?”

Tens of thousands of Fire Crow clan members around them remained silent. Honest and straightforward by nature, they were not skilled in scheming. Their expressions varied, each simply revealing their own inclinations.

Some were filled with righteous indignation, their faces burning with anger—these were the clansmen close to Ji Xia.

Some nodded slowly, whispering among themselves—these had little connection to Ji Xia, or perhaps were not unfriendly with Ji Shu. By the survival laws of the Southern Wilds, Ji Shu’s words were hardly wrong.

There were others who looked completely unconcerned and relaxed—these were the true neutrals. Their own sub-tribes were neither strong nor weak within the Fire Crow clan, and the struggle for the top did not affect them. They were content to watch a good show.

And then there were those whose expressions changed rapidly, so tense they could hardly breathe. Without a doubt, these were Ji Shu’s supporters.

With a single glance, Ji Hao took in all the myriad faces present. He laughed loudly three times, cutting off Ji Shu’s words. “Uncle Ji Shu, if my father hadn’t been ambushed and his shamanic core wounded, would you dare talk so big? Enough nonsense—Ji Wu, get out here!”

Ji Shu’s face changed, and he shut his mouth angrily.

With a clanging sound, Ji Wu strode confidently out of the crowd, shield on his left arm and axe in his right. Clearly, he had prepared well for today’s ancestral ceremony. Besides his heavy shield and finely crafted axe, he wore a half-armor of solid metal over his torso, painted black and bearing the emblem of a blood-red eye floating above a high tower.

Apart from this formidable armor, his feet were shod in metal boots that covered even his knees. The heavy boots clanged against the rocky ground, scattering sparks with every step.

The boots themselves looked fierce and strange, each knee capped with two spiraling, half-foot-long spikes. If Ji Wu drove his knee into someone’s body, it would surely leave a gaping, bloody hole.

“Ha ha! Ji Hao, today I’m going to teach you a lesson!” Ji Wu shouted, “See this armor and these boots? You think you can challenge me with that ragged thing you’re wearing?”

As he boasted, a faint light glowed from his armor and boots. A powerful aura radiated from Ji Wu, pressing outward in waves.

All around, the Fire Crow clansmen broke into an uproar; many whistled loudly to vent their displeasure. In contrast to Ji Wu’s armament, Ji Hao wore only an ordinary suit of leather armor. The leather came from the soft belly of a young lion at the Lesser Shamanic Realm, hunted by Ji Xia in the mountains. Qing Fu had sewn it together with the most supple mountain vines, then inscribed it with various runes.

Such armor was the standard gear of Fire Crow warriors. For generations, the clan’s fighters had worn their own handmade armor, battling the heavens, the earth, and countless perils in the Southern Wilds, carving out a homeland for their people through blood and hardship.

But the exquisite, powerful metal gear Ji Wu wore was beyond the Fire Crow clan’s ability to forge or consecrate.

Using outsider equipment to fight one’s own kin during the ancestral ceremony was a grave insult to the straightforward warriors of the Southern Wilds. They erupted in shouts and roars, and some of the more hot-tempered warriors even called out loudly to Ji Wu.

“Boy from Ji Shu’s line, don’t embarrass your father—take off that iron shell!”

“Let’s see your real skills, not just you hiding behind metal!”

“So, this boy’s name is Ji Wu? Not a bad name, but why so timid? Hao’s younger than him by several years, and yet he needs all that gear just to fight him? Tsk tsk, what a coward!”

The jeers and taunts grew louder, leaving Ji Wu red in the face and speechless with embarrassment.

Ji Shu stamped his foot furiously and shot an angry glance back at his own clansmen.

Jiang Yao’s pretty face darkened as she glared at the noisy Fire Crow clan members. Originally, Ji Wu had only an axe and a shield, but Jiang Yao had insisted on equipping her son with armor and boots to ensure his victory.

Yet she had never expected that such fine equipment would trigger the clan’s ridicule and scorn. In her own Bifang clan, this would never happen—the higher one’s status, the better one’s gear. That was only right!

As she prepared to retort to the surrounding mockery, Ji Wu, humiliated and furious, let out a roar and swung his axe at Ji Hao.

Ji Hao watched Ji Wu charge like a mad tiger, and could not help but marvel in silence.

Only a few days ago, Ji Wu had suffered serious injuries, yet now he showed no sign of harm. For him to recover so quickly from wounds that had left his body riddled with holes, only Jiang Bo himself could have healed him.

Not only that, Ji Wu’s aura was stronger than ever; he had evidently broken through the tenth layer of the Shamanic Warrior Realm and entered the eleventh layer, awakening the power of his bloodline.

The crimson firelight blazing behind Ji Wu showed he had begun burning his blood, using its power to strengthen his body. A warrior at the tenth level possessed the strength of a hundred thousand stones, but with bloodline activated, that could increase by at least fifty thousand.

A few days ago, when Ji Hao ambushed Ji Wu, he had clearly disrupted Jiang Yao’s ritual to forcibly raise Ji Wu’s strength. Yet now Ji Wu stood at the eleventh level—Jiang Yao could not have managed this herself. Clearly, it was Jiang Bo’s doing.

“Ji Wu, you’re strong indeed, already awakening your bloodline,” Ji Hao said, watching the axe descend toward his head. In his eyes, nine seals flickered in and out of sight, and suddenly he burst out laughing.

So Ji Wu had awakened his bloodline, and the pure, deep crimson fire showed that his bloodline was potent and pure. But crimson fire? The Ji Wu family was playing with fire in a way that was bound to end badly.

Within his Purple Palace, in the space of his spirit, the voice of the shadowy figure sounded quietly. “Little one, if you don’t move, your head will be split open.”

Ji Hao simply clasped his hands behind his back and laughed aloud, “Honored shamans, this is our Fire Crow clan’s ancestral ceremony. How can an outsider, who has awakened the blood of the Bifang clan, have the right to fight at our ceremony?”

A thunderous roar erupted from the crowd as countless Fire Crow clansmen howled in outrage.

Over a thousand shamans from various Fire Crow sub-tribes all fixed their fiery gazes on Ji Wu.

It was as if a mountain had crashed down on Ji Wu; though he had nearly reached Ji Hao, he suddenly froze, unable to move under the shamans’ stares.

Ji Hao laughed, and a dim flame surged from his back. He struck Ji Wu’s face with a punch.

Ji Wu’s eyes widened in terror as the blow shattered half his cheekbone. Several white teeth flew from his split lips.

Spitting blood, Ji Wu spun through the air and crashed heavily to the ground, unable to move.

***

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