Demon Cultivator: I Can Forcefully Drain the Lifeblood of Living Beings

A single blaze of spirit fire claimed three hundred lives, reducing them to ash and scattering them like dust.

The boy escaped death in a place of slaughter, his body forged from blood and bone, his hatred etched into a monument.

An old Taoist from the barren mountains arrived, whisking his fly-whisk. He asked nothing of immortals or demons, only vengeance.

There is no road back from the underworld. Blood debts must be repaid in blood.