Chapter Fifty-Two: The Bloodline

"Oh? I didn't expect to encounter such creatures!" Bingyan murmured to herself, then transformed into a streak of light, reappearing a hundred miles away in an instant.

"Evil creature of darkness, surrender now and accept the judgment of God!" A cleric, holding a white cross and wearing an expression of sincere devotion, confronted the man dressed in black before him.

The man curled his lip disdainfully. "Dog of the Church, I didn't expect you would pursue me even to the mysterious East. Have you forgotten the Church's decree forbidding you from setting foot in this land?"

The cleric was unfazed, though the mention of the Church's decree stirred unease within him. Quickly, he steadied himself. He was no ordinary priest, but a white-robed bishop—near the upper echelons of the Church, below only the Pope and the ten red-robed cardinals, and above the many white-robed bishops and various combat orders, such as the Holy Knights and the Hermits.

As a white-robed bishop, he was intimately familiar with the prohibition against crossing into the East. Legend had it that the Church had launched countless crusades to spread the light of God to the ancient East, but the sheer number of powerful hermits—cultivators—had always resulted in disastrous defeat. Over time, the Pope decreed that no one should trespass upon the Eastern lands.

Similarly, the Dark Council, the Church's sworn enemy, comprised non-human beings and had issued a parallel decree.

The bishop soon calmed himself; this prohibition had lapsed for centuries. In the past, any Western power who entered the East would be annihilated, but now, such calamities did not occur. What had changed was a mystery.

Fearless, the bishop laughed lightly. "And yet you too have entered the East. Though shrouded in mystery, it has not been blessed by the glory of the God of Light. Guided by the divine, I am here not only to purge you, but to save these lost lambs."

The man in black's scorn deepened. "Arrogant Church lackey! You and your feathered master are equally blind. The mysterious East is beyond your grasp. If not for your relentless pursuit, I would never have dared set foot here."

"Today, I will show you the power granted by the darkness!" he shouted. Power surged from his body, his clothes strained, and soon a pair of dark, leathery bat wings burst from his back.

"Evil creature, a dark bat—so you've truly reached the end of the road?" the bishop replied coldly, lifting his cross. "Let the holy light judge you!"

"Damn it!" Bingyan cursed under her breath. Did they not realize this place was densely populated? To unleash their power here—could they bear the consequences of the destruction? Or had they simply never considered it?

Bingyan could not remain hidden any longer; it was no time for spectatorship. "Reverse the Great Cycle—Move!" she called aloud, her hands weaving complex seals, completing them in moments.

Just as the bishop and the bat-man were about to clash, a shield of light suddenly enveloped them. When their senses returned, they found themselves surrounded by barren, yellow earth—a desolate wasteland.

"My God, what is happening?" The bishop stood dumbfounded, disbelief etched across his face.

In contrast, the bat-man was far more composed; he was the first to notice Bingyan standing before them. Beautiful and alluring, yet now her face was cold as frost. What manner of woman was this? To intimidate them fully, Bingyan had assumed the state of an early Immortal Emperor: white gauze robes draped over her, her majesty and allure magnified.

"My God..." The bat-man was so shocked he forgot he did not worship God.

Collecting himself, he folded his wings and approached Bingyan, making as if to perform a kiss upon her hand.

Bingyan would not allow such liberty; the awkward man hesitated, realizing his sudden appearance in the wasteland was surely due to this beautiful woman. Such immense power—his heart quivered. If only he could win her aid... He quickly bowed in respect. "Lucius Smith, Viscount of the Smith Clan of the Bloodline, greets the mighty one."

He knew how to be deferential, Bingyan thought silently.

Bloodline? Recalling the information she'd received from Ziling, the "encyclopedia," she knew the Bloodline were creatures born of darkness, somewhat resembling bats, worshippers of Lucifer, the Devil King of Hell, and mainstays of the Dark Council. They comprised countless clans, with thirteen founding families at the pinnacle. This Viscount Lucius Smith must be of the Smith Clan, one of those thirteen. Viscount—his power was respectable.

Bloodline ranks were defined by titles: legendary Emperor-level Bloodlines at the top, followed by thirteen Princes—leaders of each founding clan—then Dukes, Marquises, Counts, Viscounts, Barons...

Yet, in Bingyan's eyes, a Viscount's power was laughable, no more than an Earth-level martial artist.

"I accept your greeting, but keep your schemes to yourself," Bingyan said coolly. Lucius broke out in a cold sweat, panic plain on his face.

Bingyan observed him, amused. With her Chaos Reincarnation Eyes, his petty ambitions were transparent to her. She hadn't expected to frighten him so thoroughly. With a hint of apology, she pursed her lips and said, "Shouldn't we deal with the nuisance first?" Her gaze flicked toward the bishop, still in a state of confusion.

Her meaning was clear. From the conversation earlier, Lucius had earned Bingyan's approval, while the bishop invoked her inexplicable disgust—too self-righteous, truly believing the world was governed by their God?

"No, you cannot do this to me! I am God's messenger!" Though the bishop was capable, he quickly realized Bingyan and Lucius's intentions. But he was foolish; Bingyan detested those "bird-men," spreading their doctrine across the world, claiming their God had created it all. Where did that leave the Eastern cultivators who believed in the evolution of heaven and earth? The bishop's supposed compassion had already crossed a line, calling the East "lost lambs."

"Useless," Bingyan said, a wicked smile curling on her lovely face. "Since you are God's messenger, I will send you to meet your God a bit sooner. Oh... though I need not do it myself."

Remembering something, she pointed at Lucius, injecting a vast, potent stream of spiritual energy into his body. Lucius was bewildered, but soon realized this energy far surpassed his own blood power, its intensity terrifying him. Then he was overjoyed as the spiritual energy continuously transformed into blood power, which he absorbed.

Bloodline evolution depended entirely on blood power, closely linked to the purity of their lineage, accumulated over long ages. When enough was gathered, they could evolve. Now, with an endless influx of energy, how could he not be delighted?

Spiritual energy was the source of power in the lower realms; converted to lesser blood power, it was inexhaustible. With this gift from Bingyan, Lucius's luck was extraordinary. His blood power surged, and he began to evolve: Viscount, Count, Marquis, Duke—until finally reaching the level of Prince, where the transformation ceased.