"Brother Biao, teach this kid a harsh lesson! Kill him!"

The little beggar stood behind Brother Biao. In the dim light of the alley, he had yet to notice anything abnormal and continued to shout viciously.

Sensing that there was nothing left to devour from Brother Biao's physical body, Song Wen gave a light push with his left hand, sending the dried corpse fluttering away.

Only then did the little beggar clearly see Brother Biao's miserable state.

The man was entirely shriveled and dehydrated. His skin had turned a sickly, wrinkled yellow, looking like a desiccated corpse that had lain unrotted for a thousand years.

"Ah... a ghost... a blood-sucking demon!"

Terrified out of his wits, the little beggar's legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. In a blind panic, he scrambled backward, rolling and crawling to get away.

The little beggar's screams snapped Song Wen out of his euphoric daze. He too was momentarily shocked by Brother Biao's gruesome state. After a brief span of disorientation, his gaze turned ice-cold as he locked onto the fleeing beggar.

He absolutely could not let the little beggar escape.

The secret that he could kill and devour another's blood essence must never be known.

Recalling the strange energy that had inexplicably appeared in his body to save his life when he consumed the Blood Qi Pill, Song Wen was absolutely certain of one thing. His body harbored a terrifying secret, one that would cause mass hysteria. It could never be exposed.

Pushing off the ground with all his might, Song Wen shot forward more than a zhang, seizing the little beggar by the back of the neck.

"No... no! Please let me go!" the little beggar pleaded loudly.

Song Wen turned a deaf ear. His heart was as cold as stone, utterly devoid of pity for the child's young age.

This little beggar possessed none of the innocent naivety of other children; he was filled only with ruthless ferocity. Letting him go would undoubtedly plant a massive hidden danger for the future.

The dagger mercilessly pierced the little beggar's heart, ending his short life.

The blood essence within the little beggar's body was instantly devoured empty, reducing him to a dried husk.

Once again, Song Wen experienced that intoxicating, profoundly euphoric sensation.

Having consecutively absorbed the blood essence of a robust adult male and a vibrant child, Song Wen's body felt somewhat overwhelmed.

It was exactly like a starving man who had binge-eaten until he was bursting at the seams.

Song Wen felt every muscle cell in his body twitching. His frame trembled uncontrollably.

His mind spun in a dizzy haze, as if he were blackout drunk. The ground beneath his feet felt soft and spongy, like stepping on clouds. Everything felt intensely surreal.

Even the meager amount of spiritual power within his Dantian boiled and churned relentlessly, as though it had been injected with stimulants.

Song Wen forcefully suppressed his scattered thoughts, barely managing to calm down. He looked at the two dried corpses on the ground and pondered how to dispose of them. If left here, they would inevitably incite panic among the commoners and draw the attention of the authorities. If anyone traced this back to him, he would be in massive trouble.

They would likely brand him as an evil demon descended into the mortal realm and burn him alive in the public square.

"I must destroy the corpses and erase all traces."

Enduring the intense physical and mental discomfort, Song Wen swept his gaze across his surroundings. Seeing no one lurking in the shadows, he confirmed his deeds were still undiscovered.

He attempted to circulate his Spiritual Qi, throwing a full-force punch directly at the little beggar's corpse.

Drained of its blood essence, the corpse's structural integrity had become incredibly frail. Song Wen's punch directly shattered the little beggar's head.

The exploded skull collapsed into a pile of pale, grayish-white mush. There was not a single trace of crimson blood to be seen.

Song Wen's eyes lit up. This pulverized head was already completely unrecognizable as human.

Lifting the two dried husks, Song Wen walked over to the stinking drainage ditch lining the alley. Punch after punch, he battered the corpses.

Soon, both dried bodies were pulverized into fragments, which Song Wen callously tossed into the murky, foul-smelling water.

He gathered every last speck of the little beggar's shattered skull and scattered those into the sewage as well.

Having done all this, Song Wen swiftly departed the alley.

Only when he stepped onto the main road did he realize that the manic hyperarousal in his body and the floating sensation in his mind had grown even stronger.

While disposing of the corpses just moments ago, his sheer terror had diluted the discomfort. But it had never vanished; it had simply accumulated, violently erupting at this very moment.

Song Wen felt he was losing control of his limbs. Even walking in a straight line became a struggle.

Gritting his teeth, Song Wen stubbornly endured. Stumbling and swaying, he finally made his way back to the Heavenly Fiend Gang.

Upon returning to his room, Song Wen immediately tried to circulate his cultivation technique to suppress his bodily distress.

However, he found that between the churning blood qi in his veins and his drifting mental state, it was impossible to calm his mind enough to meditate.

With no other options, he simply lay down on his bed, waiting for his body to naturally digest the energy. To his surprise, the moment his head hit the pillow, he fell into a deep slumber, not waking until dawn.

By the next morning, the physical and mental discomfort had significantly faded.

However, his body still brimmed to overflowing with surging blood qi, feeling as if it were constantly on the verge of leaking out.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

"Young Master Song, breakfast is ready."

It was Aunt Chen, a servant, coming to deliver his meal.

It seemed that while his body was passively absorbing and digesting the devoured blood qi overnight, it had also burned through a massive amount of mundane energy. At this moment, Song Wen felt a ravenous, gnawing hunger. He felt like he could devour an entire cow.

Song Wen immediately got out of bed and opened the door.

Outside stood a middle-aged woman, holding a wooden food container.

Taking the container, Song Wen spoke up.

"Thank you, Aunt Chen. I'm quite famished today. Could I trouble you to bring two more, no! Five more breakfasts?"

Aunt Chen stood there, visibly stunned, failing to reply for a moment.

Only after Song Wen closed the door did she snap out of it, muttering under her breath.

"Not very old, but what an appetite."

After devouring all six breakfasts Aunt Chen delivered, Song Wen finally felt a sense of fullness in his stomach.

He opened the door, stepped outside, and entered the medicine garden. Tending to the spiritual herbs served as a good way to digest his massive meal.

Simultaneously, he inwardly analyzed the process of devouring the two men's blood essence last night.

Through internal observation, he discovered that his severely depleted blood qi had been entirely replenished. As for the massive surplus of blood qi from last night, he had no idea where it had vanished to; he could no longer sense it.

He also noticed a slight strengthening of his physical body. The enhancement was minute and far from obvious, but he could clearly feel the difference.

Furthermore, his spirit felt somewhat elevated, rendering his comprehension of his cultivation technique distinctly clearer.

"Could it be that I didn't just devour their blood essence, but something else entirely?"

"Just where does this devouring Ability in my body come from? Could this be the legendary Gold Finger, the must-have perk for any transmigrator?"

With his sharp wits, Song Wen quickly deduced that this devouring Ability could be the key to solving his current crisis.

As long as he utilized it properly, he had a very high chance of scheming Jiyin to death.

At this thought, Song Wen's mind began to race with possibilities.

What he failed to notice, from beginning to end, was that he felt absolutely no moral revulsion at having murdered two people. Instead, buried deep within his heart, lay a faint, undeniable anticipation to kill and devour blood once more.