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Chapter 39: The Rapine Sanguivore [Interlude]
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 13:12:03 +0000 UTC~~~
A long time ago, in a world very different from what it is today, there once lived a curious human child.
Growing under the safe shadows of modernity, the girl spent her youth studying the past of bygone eras. One day, after chancing upon a book detailing the life of ancient beasts, she beheld the tales of towering behemoths; ferocious creatures that once ruled a world without humans. Fascinated by such legends, she would often dress herself up in their image, to the great amusement of her adoring mother.
After she grew older and wiser, the child left her home, searching for those wonders of creation. Seven continents and four oceans she visited. The child discovered the fossilised bones of the ancient Saurus, bleached clean by time, sand, and salt.
She took upon herself the daunting task of assembling those hallowed remains, crafting towering edifices of ancient Colossuses that once ruled the planet aeons ago. The beauty of their corpus haunted her dreams, and the child lamented the tragic end they met.
Deep in the jungles of a long-forgotten continent, the child discovered a piece of amber, thrown onto her path by a mischievous monkey. Nestled within the golden resin was the priceless piece of ancient history: a drop of Primaeval Blood, preserved within the corpse of a sanguine-drinking insect.
“No caricature compares to the genuine,” the Primate stated plainly. “Play with bones if you must. But if your wish is pure, proclaim it to the Heavens. Mount Tai is kind, and will surely provide for any worthy supplicant.”
Following the monkey’s advice, the child took the amber to the summit of the Star-Hungry Mountain. After declaring her wish to the uncaring cosmos, she swallowed the blood-bearing amber and slit her throat.
For nine days, the jewel resided in her stomach, the corpse-acid melting away at the fossilised sap under Heaven’s gaze. On the tenth day, a loathsome bloodsucker escaped from the child’s open throat. The haematophagous insect buzzed with rapacious delight, her split mandibles chittering at her newfound freedom, and the opportunity to finally sate her thirst by suckling upon the child's rancid blood.
Yet before the sanguivore could drain even a single drop, the Primate arrived and reaped the rewards of its deception. Indifferent to her lamentations or rage, the Primate battled the bloodsucking fiend and crushed her under its golden staff.
From her mangled body, a singular drop of Primordial Blood was pillaged; a sliver of immortal claret, refined by Hunger across aeons. The monkey tossed the defiled insect aside, savouring the essence of ancient beasts — made all the sweeter by rapine greed.
And the Sanguivore? Without the Blood, her Hunger became impossible to sate. She swore eternal vengeance upon the Primate that stole her most precious virtue, and from then on, she never knew a moment's peace.
Cursed forever by Rapine Hunger.
— Excerpt from ‘Divine Chronicles’
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It was, she thought, rather beautiful.
The wraith looked upon the kneeling corpse of the woman before her. Even after countless centuries had passed since its death, the body was perfectly preserved. The screaming winds of Mount Tai raged all over that small clearing where the corpse sat. Yet, no matter how they lusted or raged, those hungry, flesh-seeking squalls could not touch the unspoiled cadaver which lay humbled in the ice.
It remained pristine, preserved within a perfect circle of virgin snow and a halo of ethereal light.
A corpse, frozen in time. A Divine Art? There were Gods that held the power to perform such a feat. Astral retention, extreme time dilation, or the application of conceptual permanence through esoteric means of spiritual energy manipulation. All were possible. The wraith could easily name several Gods who boast such abilities.
Or rather, boasted. The Gods were mostly dead now. There was only one true living deity left in all of Qiangyu, and he was too busy playing in a backwater Province to attend to his duties.
The wraith frowned as she observed further. This spiritual formation… It was different. The energies maintaining the spatial field were not entirely the product of Qi Techniques. She eyed the strange device that hummed at the foot of the body.
A creation of metal and science. She recognised it.
A Reality Anchor Device.
The words engraved on its side meant little. Numeric codes carved with inhuman precision upon a body of enigmatic alloy. Impaled upon the driven snow, the twig-like object sang and pulsed, its melody consuming the rage and lightning of the hungry storm around it to power its shimmering shield, stalwartly protecting the corpse.
The wraith understood its design — knew it to be not made from the hands of Artificers, nor the tool of some Divine Being.
This was an instrument made by mortal men. A technological relic from beyond the Abyssal Ridge.
Like the corpse before her.
The wraith approached the body, trespassing across that circle of untouched purity. Though her presence held no weight and her footsteps left no prints in the snow, it still felt like she was intruding upon hallowed grounds; a realm private and undisturbed for centuries.
Kneeling beside the time-sheltered corpse, the wraith examined its appearance. It was — is — a pretty thing. Noble facial features, long lashes, sharp cheekbones, golden hair pulled into a bun... Its exotic appearance alone would have drawn eyes when it was alive, especially in these lands.
Its apparel was undoubtedly strange; a white coat matched with a blue scarf, both made of a synthetic material that was more advanced than any fabric the Empire of Qiangyu could produce, yet lesser for its complete lack of any qi-imbued properties. A silver tag was still pinned to the coat’s breast, the words utterly foreign to any native of the land.
But not to the wraith.
‘Director Rebecca L. Chang’
‘31st UEC Expeditionary Force, 2nd Research Division’
‘Primary Officer of Anti-Daemonic Sub-Field: Saurian’
“Is that what it says? I always wondered what the words meant. The language of your nation is an ugly one.”
A voice behind her — one she was hoping not to hear, especially after the wound she dealt to it in their last meeting.
The annoying monkey was back. The wraith turned her dead gaze to the self-proclaimed Regent, who came dressed in ceremonial armour bedecked in jewels and precious metals.
What ugly ornaments it wore. Such ostentatiousness bordered on vulgarity.
The Primate chuckled.
“I can practically hear your thoughts from that glare alone. If you must know, I didn’t design this thing. And garishness aside, it is rather comfortable to wear.”
Even on Mount Tai, you would follow me here?
The Primate clicked its teeth. A foam of white clouds gathered and formed beneath his legs. He sat languidly upon the heavenly cloud before pointing his fingers at her accusingly.
“I am present on this cursed mountain only as much as you are, Hierophant — which is to say, not at all. Neither of us is supposed to be here. This is a graveyard, and the lonely confines of such places are the sole domain of the dead, after all. ”
One could argue, then, that I do belong here while you don’t.
The Primate grinned. “One could.”
And yet, your voice pesters me still.
“Perhaps thoughts of me linger in your mind, then. I am told I have that effect on others.”
The wraith ignored the monkey and continued to study the corpse. The dead woman’s eyes were closed behind a spectacled frame, her expression peaceful. Her lips were slightly parted, as if in exhale. Legs knelt beneath her, hands placed in her lap, the body looked to be deeply asleep rather than deceased.
Her throat was neatly sliced open, yet no blood stained her front or neck.
Placing her hand against the corpse's cheeks, the wraith closed her singular eye, searching for the barest signs of cultivation: dead qi, meridians, even just a rudimentary Dantian.
There was nothing. Just as she suspected. Just as she knew.
"Horrifying, isn’t it? Especially given the strength this one wielded when she was alive. The thought of mortals having toys that could match their strength with Divines does send chills down my spine.”
Innovation has always been Humanity’s strongest trait. Without it, we would have been destroyed millennia ago.
“And yet, it was you mortals who made first contact with this side of the World, with us, not the other way around. Although… 'Mortals' would not be the correct term, would it? There's a word for your kind. You foreigners, who came from beyond the Abyssal Ridge."
Demon is a misnomer your people used for us. No true Demon has set foot in Qiangyu for centuries.
"But it suits rather well, no? After all, he was from beyond the Ridge as well, and that man ended up being a greater monster than anyone, any God, could have ever imagined."
The wraith smiled. The expression ill-fit her dead gaze, lifeless and false.
He was always the worst of us. Your imagination lacks breadth, however. Wise you might be, but worldly you are not.
“Oh? The dead dare lecture me on wisdom?”
You were born within Mount Tai’s shadow. Even after four thousand years, you remained here, ruling your moonlit domain protected by the Abyssal Ridge. On my side of the world... Even my foolish God struggles to devour his prey.
"So he came here, seeking weaker meals? Perhaps I should visit your lands one day... Things have become dull in the Imperial Court. There's only so much entertainment one can derive from sycophants, assassins, and sycophantic assassins."
Woe to you, then. The Demons there will render you mad.
"My, my. Is that worry I hear in your voice, Hierophant?"
The wraith turned to him. Her singular Jade-drenched eye looked straight at the grinning Imperial Regent.
Begone, pest.
There was a chorus of unearthly laughter from the Immortal, and then silence once more.
The Primate was never there.
The wraith left the timeless circle, no longer interested in the corpse or that familiar piece of technology that came from half a world away. The most curious part of the Legend she came to seek was not here; the body of that Split-Headed Carnivore was at the edge of Mount Tai’s influence — near the Northern Abyssal Ridge, where she once crossed from, and in the desolate Province where her God currently resides.
Speaking of which, what was he doing now?
She blinked, and returned once more, close to her home — the Heart of her God. He was… Ah. The boy was in the presence of intimate company.
Hmm… that woman… A cultivator in the Path of the Rapine Sanguivore? Was that the same weakling Young Miss she had prepared for him a decade ago, now grown to fulfil the promised concubinage?
… No… The Path was the same as the girl’s, but this was just another disciple. Someone of meddling importance, then.
She supposed it would be rude to intrude upon his moment of pleasure. The wraith did not hold a monopoly on her God's affection, nor did she want to. He had already given her his Heart aeons ago. It would be greedy of her to ask for more.
And greed was a thing best left to cultivators.
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Split-headed Carnivores Sect, Part 3
Though its reputation is not as stellar as the other Sects of the Four Mountain Sects Group, the Spilt-headed Carnivores Sect still commands a vast amount of influence, albeit partially through the dark grip of infamy rather than any real political authority.
While their disciples are often regarded as the strongest, their numbers are also the smallest amongst the four Sects in the province — in part due to their stringent entry requirements, but mostly due to the Nights of Famine that see their numbers internally culled every year.
It is the hope of the Sect that with their new alliance with the Yang-dominated Beheaded Phoenix Sect, such unfortunate casualties might be reduced each winter with rations of Yang flesh, and that they may one day command the same number of disciples as the other Sects of the Province.
Their current leading Clan is the Chen Clan, led by the Matriarch Chen Zijing, an exceptionally bloodthirsty and vicious Carnivore who rose to power a decade ago through the brutal devouring of her six older kin sisters.
– Excerpt from A Citizen’s Guide to the Flesh-Grafted Empire
