Preliminary Exploration of Inheritance

In an era lost to history, a figure emerged from the shadows to cast a long, dark veil over the world: the Blood Demon Ancestor. His beginnings were humble, born not of nobility or divine lineage, but of the most mundane sort - a mortal servant, overlooked by the many, destined for obscurity. Yet, fate had a different path for him. Through a serendipitous encounter, he ascended, stepping onto the path of an Ascender, and embarking on a journey that would forever alter the fabric of existence.

Over the span of eight centuries, he climbed from the depths of insignificance to the heights of infamy, driven by an insatiable thirst for power and dominion. His rise was marked by the creation of heinous arts and forbidden techniques - the Blade-Wing Blood Bat, the Blood Droplet, and the Blood Frenzy among them. These innovations solidified his standing as a behemoth among evildoers, feared and revered in equal measure.

Despite his might, the Blood Demon Ancestor's reign was not unchallenged. The esteemed factions, guardians of order and righteousness, banded together in a monumental effort to quell his menace. Though they succeeded in cornering him, they could not foresee his final act of defiance. With his dying breaths, he orchestrated a legacy that would outlive him by millennia. He scattered hundreds of thousands of legacy sites across the world, each a repository of his forbidden knowledge and power, ensuring that his influence would permeate through the ages.

His final words were a curse, a promise, and a legacy all at once: "The path of blood is not lonely, It will afflict generations!"

The tale of the Blood Demon Ancestor is one of unparalleled villainy and power. His name alone evokes dread, a reminder of the depths to which one can fall in the pursuit of power. The nine true legacies he left behind are sought after by power-hungry individuals across the world, ensuring that his malevolent spirit lives on. His final act, the dispersal of his legacy sites, was his masterstroke, guaranteeing that his blood magic would continue to seduce and corrupt for generations to come, weaving an unending tapestry of bloodshed and darkness.

As the ultimate embodiment of evil and a pinnacle challenge for any who dare oppose him, the Blood Demon Ancestor stands as a monumental figure in a saga of epic proportions, his story a chilling testament to the enduring nature of true power and malevolence.

In the years that followed, any Ascender practicing blood magic would be regarded as a demon. Esteemed factions, and even Evildoers, dislike Ascenders practicing blood magic, to the point of being universally condemned and reviled. This is because blood magic allows Ascenders to directly absorb the strength of their slain enemies, leading those who practice it to have an insatiable thirst for killing!

Before his rebirth, Aidan had the fortuitous opportunity to inherit one of "The Nine True Legacies," which would occur more than 300 years into the future from his current time.

The first blood ritual Aidan performed allowed lower-level Ascenders to use Essence Conduits higher than their own level without paying any heavy price. 

The second time, Aidan combined the power of "Steal" to perform blood fusion, allowing him to directly absorb the cultivation and even talents of the fallen warriors. However, there were drawbacks to this, such as when he absorbed a peak-level Novice Tier Ascender with 40 Ascension Sigils. He only gained enough energy to advance to a high level and obtained only 20 Ascension Sigils. Additionally, these external energies and Ascension Sigils would bring significant risks, increasing the difficulty of every subsequent upgrade exponentially. 

Only the "Blood Skin" among the Nine True Legacies could elevate one's talents without any risks, but Aidan had never received this true legacy, nor had he even heard of it.

Mounting the giant wolf, Aidan began to ride back, leaving the cave entrance far behind him. If traced on a map, his route formed a complete circle, rounding a large loop, ultimately arriving at the hill where several elders were stationed, ready to conduct the mid-year assessment.

About an hour later, a young man covered in grass fragments, with coarse clothes torn by thorns, and mud caked on his feet, trudged up the slope with a bag slung over his shoulder.

This bedraggled youth was none other than Aidan.

As Aidan slowly approached from a distance, Isolde, Ewan, Tristan, and Emeric all stood up to look at him.

"Aidan, what happened to you?" the elder asked with a furrowed brow upon seeing Aidan's appearance.

"I encountered a large pack of wolves on the way, couldn't fight them off, so I had to run. It took quite a while to shake off those damn wolves," Aidan replied as he dismounted from the back of the giant wolf. The wolf itself bore numerous wounds, deliberately inflicted by Aidan with a knife to mimic claw marks for added realism.

"Twenty-eight, not bad," the elder remarked, taking the backpack Aidan handed over and counting the wolf teeth inside.

The result was quite fitting for Aidan's image, neither too much nor too little.

"Well then, I'll announce the final rankings. First place goes to Ewan, second to Isolde, fourth to Tristan, and fifth to Aidan."

...

...

...

After returning to the castle, Aidan remained silent for another two months until August arrived.

The first to advance to the high tier in this cohort was Ewan, followed by Isolde three days later.

Tristan followed suit five days after Isolde's promotion.

Finally, Emeric joined the ranks six days after Tristan.

Throughout this time, Aidan remained elusive, keeping his advancement to the high tier a secret.

As Aidan became increasingly inconspicuous,

one night,

Aidan squeezed into the crevice of the secret cave once again.

lingling...

In his hands, a wild rabbit struggled fiercely, its neck adorned with a bell.

This was a rabbit Aidan had caught in the forest, and he had tied the bell around its neck himself.

After a day, the stagnant air in the secret cave had completely dissipated, leaving behind a refreshing atmosphere.

The entrance to the passage was wide open, and inside it was silent. Aidan squatted down and carefully examined the ground. He had sprinkled powdered stone in two places last night, but the thin layer of powder didn't attract much attention.

"The powder at the entrance of the passage remains undisturbed. It seems that nothing unclean crawled out during my absence. There's a footprint at the entrance of the crevice leading to the secret cave, but that's from when I stepped on it earlier. It appears that no one else has been here," Aidan observed and relaxed.

He stood up, reached out and forcefully tore off the dead vines from the wall,

then sat on the ground, using his legs to restrain the rabbit while freeing his hands to manipulate the vines.

This was a skill most Ascenders wouldn't possess, but Aidan had abundant life experience. In his past life, there were several occasions when he was destitute and lost all his Essence Conduits.

In a certain period of his life, Aidan, although an Ascender, found himself devoid of any Essence Conduit, rendering him as helpless and ordinary as any mortal. Struggling to survive, he learned the humble crafts of twisting grass into ropes and weaving these into sandals and hats to sell for a meager living. As Aidan twisted the grass ropes, memories flooded his mind.

The bitterness and trials of those days transformed into a silent smile that played on his lips now. A wild rabbit struggled occasionally under his bent leg, its bell tinkling softly. The intertwining of lives, a lengthy embrace filled with countless twists and turns, echoed in his actions. Over the years, every twist, turn, and entanglement of the ropes seemed to gather the essence of time itself, embodying life's complexity.

Wasn't twisting grass ropes akin to navigating through life itself?

In the secret cave, where dim red light cast shadows, youth and age intermingled on Aidan's face. Time itself seemed to pause, silently admiring the young man as he twisted grass ropes. This simple act, a metaphor for life's struggles and complexities, highlighted the notion that adversity is not just a phase to endure but a state of existence that shapes and defines us. The hardships of life, while often bitter, are the very experiences that carve the depths of our being, teaching us resilience, craftsmanship, and the silent joy found in overcoming the insurmountable.