To awaken a class, one had to pay a fee of 20,000 gold. That was the reason Allen was selling his blood.
Thankfully, over the past year, he had saved enough coins. Tomorrow was the Class Awakening ceremony. As long as he got a class—even the weakest production class—he would have a way to make a living and wouldn’t need to sell blood for survival anymore...
Butcher’s at Shop.
"You lost him again? Didn’t you say no one could escape your hands? How many tis is this now?" The fat man, with a face full of cruel wrinkles, slamd his hand on the table in anger.
Mason hunched his back, head bowed, his expression filled with awe.
The fat man had another identity: he was the boss of this underground casino, code-nad Butcher.
"My Lord, that guy is strange. His presence suddenly vanished, just like he was dead..." Mason paused, thinking about how Allen had just had 2,000 ml of blood drawn, and asked with doubt, "My Lord, do you think he might actually be dead?"
"Impossible." Butcher shook his head. He just had a feeling that Allen had a secret, perhaps sothing like blood regeneration.
And he felt that after this ti, the other party probably wouldn’t sell blood anymore.
"You must find that person. If you can’t, then go ask Mr. Gamma to handle it." Butcher said coldly through clenched teeth.
"Gamma" wasn’t a single person’s na, but a rank in the Wolf Clan, equivalent to a human who had reached Class Awakened stage 4 or stage 5.
Such a powerful existence could do almost anything in Blackspire without fear.
"Yes." Mason replied respectfully. He paused for a mont and added, "My Lord, even though I lost that guy, I did manage to track down a big client of ours."
"The mysterious person who bought the blood bags?" Butcher’s eyes lit up. He lit another cigarette and asked curiously, "Who is it?"
This person was even more mysterious than Allen.
"My Lord, you won’t believe it," Mason said, teasingly. Seeing Butcher look annoyed, he quickly added, "It’s Blackspire City Lord, Viscount Lucas."
"What?" Butcher was shocked, nearly dropping his cigarette.
"Are you sure?" He frowned, his expression doubtful.
Viscount Lucas, the City Lord of Blackspire and the nominal ruler, was untouchable. Except for those dirty people from the Church of Light, no one dared to offend him.
Why would such a big shot co to buy blood?
"I am sure." Mason nodded firmly. Seeing Butcher’s confusion, he continued, "My Lord, Lucas seems strange too. Do you think this guy might be a Vampire?"
"A Vampire?" Butcher picked at the fat on his chin, frowning as he thought hard.
"It’s really possible." He thought about the strange things about Lucas: his car always had dark tinted windows, he never went to the Church, and rumor had it his ho never used silverware. In the world of nobles, silver was a sign of high status...
These habits matched a Vampire perfectly.
"Hehe, that’s a huge discovery!" Butcher smiled in a creepy way. "Find a Mithril container. Next ti Lucas cos, I’ll store his blood in it."
"My Lord is so wise! That guy will definitely reveal his true form in shock when he sees it, and then we can use it to blackmail him!" Mason quickly agreed, stroking Butcher’s ego.
"You did a good job. Here is your reward." Butcher nodded in satisfaction, opened a drawer, and took out two small blood bags. "One is for you, and the other is paynt for Mr. Gamma."
"Thank you, My Lord." Mason quickly took the bags, tucked them away carefully, and thanked him again and again.
Butcher waved his hand, signaling him to leave.
"Sigh, people around are so useless."
Butcher sighed softly. He didn’t want to let Gamma get involved. That guy’s blood was too special. If his secret got out, Butcher feared he wouldn’t be able to keep a share for himself.
The best case scenario would be a 50-50 split.
Even so, he was making a huge profit. Allen’s blood had been worth just 1,000 ml, but Butcher had sold it for 100,000 gold—a hundredfold increase. Plus, there was high demand but no supply.
City Lord Lucas was his biggest custor.
"I hope Gamma isn’t too greedy..." Butcher muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair and lighting another cigarette.Listening to the chaotic noises from the casino, Allen’s lips curled into a faint smile as he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
...
On the other side, Allen returned to his shabby room. He washed off the dirt on his body and changed into a set of faded white clothes.
By now, the sky was turning pale gray with dawn. He felt no sleepiness at all; staying up all night had no effect on him.
Suddenly, Allen’s mind sparked, and he opened his status panel.
[Na: Allen]
[Age: 18]
[Class: Unawakened]
[Constitution: 11]
[Strength: 9]
[Spirit: 22]
[Agility: 7]
[Cultivation: Art of Immortality]
[Art of Immortality: Tier Unknown; Effect Unknown; Current Rank 1 Level 1, 100 Years to Life Span]
Allen hadn’t awakened a class yet, but his current stats were already comparable to a Stage 1 Level 1 Class Awakened.
It must be the result of practicing Art of Immortality.
"What exactly is this Art of Immortality?" Allen whispered to himself.
This mysterious technique had been deep in his mory since he could rember. There was also a reminder left by a man who claid to be his father.
"Allen, this Art of Immortality technique is extrely important to you. It can break the curse on your body. You must train hard, never be slack, and never expose the secret hidden in you..."
Curse?
Was there a curse on his body?
Allen was completely confused. Since he could rember, he had lived alone, and he started practicing this technique carved into his mind even back then.
For over ten years, nothing changed. But one year ago, he finally broke through to Rank 1 Level 1, instantly adding 100 years to his lifespan.
He clearly rembered how shocked and doubtful he had been at that mont.
There were many techniques for cultivators, but most only boosted personal stats. A technique like Art of Immortality that increased lifespan was sothing he had never heard of.
It was around that ti that Allen accidentally discovered a miraculous function in his body: Blood Creation!
No matter how much blood he lost or how severe his injuries were, he could recover quickly within a short ti, though it cost a corresponding amount of lifespan.
Besides that, he had another ability: holding his breath to pretend to be dead.
Allen used this ability to break free from Mason’s pursuit many tis.
Holding his breath also consud lifespan. The longer he held it, the more lifespan it cost.
However, the consud lifespan slowly recovered. It seed he had beco immortal...
No, wait. With the added 100 years, he should at least live to be over 100 years old.
This was just the effect of the first layer of Art of Immortality. As the technique improved, the added lifespan would surely be even greater.
Allen felt the energy circulating on its own inside his body and stretched.
After breaking through to the first layer of Art of Immortality, he no longer needed to consciously guide it. It was cultivating him every single second.
Outside the window, the light had turned bright, and there were faint shuffling sounds.
People in the slums had started their day, struggling hard just to survive.
"It’s ti for school." Allen pulled out a heavy bag full of gold coins and stuffed it deep into his chest, making a bulge in his clothes.
He stepped out carefully, trying not to make any noise so he wouldn’t draw attention.
The morning sun rose, casting light on the dilapidated streets. A few old people, their clothes in rags, were rummaging through trash cans, looking for sothing barely edible to eat.
Allen was used to this, even numb to it.
People living in the slums were at the very bottom of society. They were bullied and suppressed at will, with no human rights to speak of.
He rembered how he almost died as a child because of a single piece of bread...
Without great strength, no amount of wealth could keep you safe.
Allen wrapped his bundle tightly and quickly crossed the barrier of the slum district.
Since he was still a student, the guards stationed there wouldn’t stop him.
The street ahead was clean and tidy. Pedestrians wore bright, fancy clothes, and the traffic flowed heavily. It was a scene of prosperity, yet it felt unreal to Allen.
Heaven and hell seed to be separated by just a thin line.
"I hope I can awaken my class successfully." Allen whispered to himself. He walked through the bustling street straight toward Quinn Academy, the only school in Blackspire.
It was said that this academy once had an SSS-rank Class Awakened, a Hurricane Archer, who eventually grew into a Stage 9 powerhouse.
The academy was renad after that person.
Groups of students walked in, eating breakfast and chatting excitedly about today’s class awakening. They laughed and talked as they entered.
Allen walked among them like a ghost, invisible. No one cared about him.
He didn’t mind. He headed straight for the Class Awakening Office, hesitated for a mont, and pulled out his gold coins to pay the registration fee. He just had to wait until the afternoon for the awakening.
"I really hope this works." Allen prayed silently in his heart. Those 20,000 gold coins were all he had. If he failed to awaken, he feared he would have no choice but to survive by selling his blood forever...
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