The Pact of the Blood Pagoda

He had died once.

Three hundred years ago, he was a great cultivator in the Deity Transformation stage, stabbed through the heart by the sword of his most trusted friend.

When he opened his eyes again, he was a blood thrall in a mine, chained hand and foot and being taken away to have his blood drained.

In his previous life, he had trusted brothers, sects, and the principle that diligence would be rewarded. In this life, he trusted no one.

Following the blood-drawing tube, he traced it to a vast network that drained people dry, spanning both the human and demon races and reaching back three thousand years.

The ones who signed the contracts sat in the heavens. The ones being drained knelt in the mud.

Shen Duanyuan looked up at the sky.

He would repay that sword that had pierced him, with interest.

He was going to flip over this people-eating table.