Bloodstar System: Infinite Evolution Through Beast Slaughter

Chapter 7: Can You Grow Stronger by Hiding in an Ivory Tower?

Awakened Warrior.

In Brann’s mind, Joren’s identity was now certain.

An Awakened Warrior working in his slaughterhouse?

He would not have dared dream of something like that.

When he looked at Joren now, only respect remained in his eyes.

Joren flicked the blood from his blade with a clean motion.

He turned to Brann.

"Any more today?"

Brann snapped back to himself and quickly waved his hands.

"No. No more."

Joren nodded and slid the blade back into the sheath at his waist.

"Then I am heading back."

With that, he turned and left.

Brann did not dare stop him. He put on a smile, bent slightly at the waist, and watched Joren all the way out of the factory gates.

Inside the factory, the workers were still frozen in place.

Only after Joren’s figure disappeared from the entrance did the pressure that had been weighing on their chests slowly fade.

"Haa..."

"What are you all standing around for?"

Brann turned sharply and roared at the group of dazed workers.

"Work! Can you not see how many pigs are waiting to be processed?"

Rowan was the first to recover. He raised his voice and started shouting orders.

"Hooks! Carts! Move your asses!"

The factory went from dead quiet to chaotic in an instant.

The workers grabbed their tools in a flurry and began dealing with the huge bodies scattered across the floor. Only their movements were clumsier than usual.

A younger worker hooked one Ironhide Boar by the leg and pulled with all his strength, but the carcass did not budge.

He could not help looking at the fatal wounds on its body.

Eye socket.

Throat.

Heart.

Every strike had landed on the most precise vital point.

Brann walked to the four corpses that had crashed together and looked at the twisted, deformed boar heads.

His eyelids twitched.

He drew in a breath, walked to Rowan, and lowered his voice.

"Rowan."

"Hm?"

"From now on, Joren comes when he wants and leaves when he wants."

Brann’s tone had never been more serious.

"As for his pay, give him the highest rate. No, double the highest rate."

Rowan froze for a moment, then nodded hard.

"I understand."

Brann looked at the mess across the floor, his expression complicated.

...

Joren passed through several old alleys and returned home.

The room was small.

A bed, a desk, a wardrobe.

That was everything.

He took off the blood stained, torn shirt on his body and walked into the narrow bathroom.

The shower turned on.

Warm water washed over him, taking away the smell of blood and the fatigue clinging to his skin.

Deep in his muscles, soreness pulsed in waves. It was the result of pushing his body to its limit in a short burst of combat.

But as the water fell, his taut nerves slowly loosened.

He closed his eyes.

The scenes of the day replayed in his mind.

The feeling of a blade cutting through flesh.

That power of walking along the edge of life and death, of holding everything in his own hands, made every cell in his body tremble and cheer.

More than ten minutes later, Joren dried himself off and changed into clean clothes.

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

The room was quiet.

From outside the window came the faint noise of the streets.

With a thought, a pale blue virtual panel unfolded before his eyes, visible only to him.

[Host: Joren]

[Mental Force: 10]

[Combat Rank: Mortal 10/20]

[Bloodstars: 10]

[Combat Arts: Basic Bladecraft 5/5; Basic Body Tempering 3/8]

[Talent: Bladehand White]

Joren’s eyes settled on the line that read [Bloodstars: 10].

He had risked his life for these.

Ten Ironhide Boars.

Ten Bloodstars.

He did not hesitate.

Become stronger.

"Add points."

"Put everything into Combat Rank."

The moment the thought fell, the numbers on the pale blue panel began to change.

[Bloodstars: 0]

[Combat Rank: Mortal 20/20]

Boom!

A warm current burst from his heart without warning and swept through his limbs and bones.

The soreness left behind by his earlier burst of strength vanished under that wave.

In its place came a fullness he had never felt before.

Joren could clearly sense his bones growing denser, his muscle fibers twisting together like tougher rope.

He slowly clenched his fist.

The air in his palm seemed to give out a faint squeeze.

Power.

A surging sense of power filled him so completely that, for a moment, he felt as if he could punch through a steel plate.

Mortal had reached perfection.

He could feel it.

His body had arrived at a limit.

Ahead of him stood a thin, invisible barrier.

Once he pierced it, a whole new world would open.

That was the realm of a true Awakened Warrior.

Only one step remained.

Just then, a new line of small text quietly appeared on the system panel.

[Notice: Mortal stage has reached perfection.]

[To break through to Rank One Warrior, an advanced body tempering method is required.]

Joren’s pupils narrowed slightly.

What he practiced was only the common Basic Body Tempering method.

It was something the Aurelian Dominion promoted in high schools across the nation.

Students spent three years in high school practicing Basic Body Tempering, polishing their Vital Force until they reached the peak of an ordinary person.

That was what people called Mortal perfection.

A senior student who reached Mortal perfection would gain the qualification to enter an ordinary martial university.

After entering university, they could practice an advanced body tempering method.

Then they would break through and become an Awakened Warrior in one leap.

An advanced body tempering method.

Joren looked at the system prompt.

Of course he knew about it.

His teachers at school had talked about it until their lips nearly wore out.

Train with everything you had.

Temper the body.

Reach Mortal perfection during the college entrance exam.

Earn a ticket into a martial university.

Joren lowered his head and looked at his clenched fist.

He thought of the so called top students at school.

When they entered, their Vital Force was already far beyond that of ordinary people. The teachers held them like treasures and gave them the best resources.

Even so, it had taken them three full years to reach Mortal perfection.

And him?

One day.

Strictly speaking, not even half a day.

In that bloody slaughterhouse, he had killed ten half grown Voidbeasts.

Just like that, he had finished the road others needed three years to walk.

So why would he still go to university?

His system was the Bloodstar System.

Not a study system.

Could he grow stronger by hiding in an ivory tower?

Only constant slaughter could let him climb to the peak at the fastest speed.

This world was overrun by Voidbeasts, and danger waited everywhere.

Comfort itself was a kind of sin.

He had to go where the real Voidbeasts lived, where they tore flesh and drank blood.

Only there was his paradise.