Chapter 21: The Bloodline Codex

A month later, in the suburbs of London.

In a secluded courtyard of the manor, three large men of different ethnic backgrounds sat cross-legged on cushions, each holding a black-bound book and flipping through the pages. They were scratching their heads and contorting their faces in frustration, shifting about as if they had needles pricked into their seats, unable to sit still.

"Sigh... the Western way of thinking is truly beyond my comprehension. Teaching them cultivation is undoubtedly the greatest mistake I have ever made in my life," Li Yang sighed, covering his face with a hand while sitting in a nearby gazebo, watching the three burly men who were sweating profusely from sheer mental exhaustion.

He had known there were cultural differences between the East and the West, but he had never expected the gap to be this vast. Some cultivation terminology could not even be translated into English; even when forced into translation, the original meaning became unrecognizable. The introductory manual for the Blood Warlock path of cultivation that Li Yang had compiled was only five thousand characters long in the original, yet when translated into English, it had become a thick, massive tome—far bulkier than the thickest Bible in a cathedral. Even so, it was still incomplete in many respects, and the Westerners' inability to grasp the concepts was enough to drive him to madness.

He explained it word by word, yet they still could not understand. It was not that they were stupid; it was simply that the difference in their cognitive frameworks created a nearly insurmountable chasm between the two cultures. And this was while the three men were actually trying their best to learn. After an entire month, let alone cultivating, they could not even fully memorize the concepts or the techniques. They were barely scratching the surface, and in such a state, how could they possibly hope to practice?

"Our Western concepts are indeed like this—simple and clear. You Easterners, however, just love to make simple things overly complex. You insist on describing the most straightforward things in such cryptic, esoteric ways," said Catherine.

During this time, it was not just the three Blood Warlocks who were learning; Li Yang had forced Catherine to study as well—after all, it was no more trouble to herd a group of ducks than a single one. Although she shared the same lack of understanding of Eastern culture as the three men, her calm and meticulous nature allowed her to progress faster. At the very least, she could now understand the theoretical foundations Li Yang was teaching.

"Ha... do you really think our Eastern culture uses such esoteric language just to be mysterious?" Li Yang sneered at Catherine’s disdainful expression and continued, "The reason our culture is this way is simply for the sake of convenience in recording and reference. You must understand, in ancient times, we didn't have paper as convenient as we do now. Our ancestors recorded text on bamboo slips using carving knives, so brevity was the priority."

"If we had used your Western method of documentation, one would likely die of old age before finishing the content of a single book."

"Oh... I forgot. At that time, you Westerners were still savages. Never mind writing; you were all still living in caves. Naturally, you cannot comprehend the great wisdom of our Eastern ancestors."

"You..."

Stung by Li Yang’s mockery, Catherine was furious, yet she could find no retort. What Li Yang said was the truth: a few thousand characters of cultivation techniques, when translated into English, became a massive volume that made one’s scalp tingle. Faced with such ironclad evidence, no matter how indignant she was or how much she tried to explain, her words felt powerless.

Over the course of their time together, her perception of Li Yang had undergone a complete turnaround. In her past impressions, Li Yang was synonymous with cold-blooded, heartless, brutal, and bloodthirsty. She had never even associated him with humanity, always suspecting he was some kind of alien evil deity from another dimension, and that his current form was merely a disguise.

However, after more than a month of living together, she discovered that the reality was not as she had imagined. Although Li Yang was aloof and cold-hearted, he sometimes revealed a gentle side—a highly contradictory combination. He was, in fact, a genuine human from the mysterious East, possessing his own emotions, though he kept them well-hidden. Having realized this, she suddenly felt that Li Yang didn't seem like a god anymore. While his personality remained volatile, he was a living, breathing creature, not as terrifying as she had once feared.

At the same time, she grew curious about him. She could not fathom how a human could possess such immense power, or how he had ended up in the West. She had asked these questions before, but Li Yang had never responded.

"Enough. While the sun has yet to rise, you should go and give them their lesson. I am truly fed up with these idiots. From now on, you will take over their instruction."

Li Yang ignored Catherine’s indignant glare. This kind of bickering happened often, and he had become accustomed to this dynamic. In truth, it was more than just a habit; deep down, he enjoyed it. Given his prestige among the vampires and werewolves, everyone who saw him was unfailingly respectful; he couldn't even raise his voice without frightening his subordinates, who viewed him as a god. Only Catherine, who feared him not in the slightest and often argued with him, helped preserve the remnants of his humanity, preventing him from being entirely consumed by his divinity. He was not consciously aware of this, yet he instinctively relished their interactions.

During this period, besides cultivating and teaching the three Blood Warlocks, Li Yang spent his time writing the cultivation techniques he had prepared for them. Although the system was not yet perfect, he had successfully created the foundational method for nourishing the bloodline. In essence, the technique he was practicing now involved the complete absorption of the energy from the Six-Winged Golden Centipede. This was similar to how the Blood Warlocks absorbed energy to nourish their own bloodlines, so this part of the work was not difficult for him.

...

Late at night, the moon was bright and the stars sparse. A full moon hung high in the sky, casting silver radiance across the earth. It was the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month, the Mid-Autumn Festival.

As the saying goes, one misses home all the more on festive days. At this moment, Li Yang sat on the roof of the manor, staring blankly at the full moon hanging in the sky, lost in thought.

"Tap... what are you looking at?"

At some unknown moment, with a soundless tread, Catherine climbed onto the roof. Clad in tight black leather, her deep blue eyes shone like spirits of the night. Watching the expression in Li Yang’s eyes, a ripple of inexplicable emotion stirred within her—longing, nostalgia, yearning, and melancholy. She had never seen such complex emotions in him before. In her mind, Li Yang had always been a cold, heartless tyrant, a being devoid of human sentiment, ethereal and unapproachable. Only at this moment did she truly see him as a man—a man of flesh and blood. His character had never felt more vivid than it did now.

"Do you miss anyone?"

Li Yang did not answer her question. He continued to stare foolishly at the moon, asking out of the blue. At this moment, the longing for his homeland had never been more intense. His yearning for his two wives surged from the depths of his heart like a spring. Unbeknownst to him, crystal-clear tears welled up at the corners of his eyes.

"Are you homesick?"

Seeing the intense emotional fluctuations in Li Yang’s eyes, Catherine felt a sudden, urgent impulse to comfort him. Her voice was gentler than it had ever been, a neutral tone that echoed in the night air with a unique resonance.

"Yes, I am homesick. I miss my two wives. It has been a long time since we last met. A long, long time..."

This time, Li Yang did not evade the question. He smiled faintly, a warm, sunlight-like expression on his face, his eyes gleaming with a bright, soft luster. This light was not blinding, but it seemed capable of illuminating the darkness of the human heart, leaving Catherine stunned.

Deep within Li Yang, in the dark corners he could not see, a twisted and frenzied energy was churning—the bestial nature of the Six-Winged Golden Centipede, the very source that clouded his Daoist heart. This brutal, murderous instinct had been subtly influencing his temperament. As Li Yang fell into his memories, a massive pulse surged from his heart, and three faint, almost non-existent golden lights seized the moment to burrow deep into his soul.

These three golden lights were profound and incredibly resilient, as if carrying some esoteric truth. As they entered his heart, a sliver of hazy white light began to rise from within, and the sound of the pulse grew more violent. Following this pulsation, the brutal aura covering his heart began to stir and roam wildly, gradually suppressing the hazy white light.

His Daoist heart began to sink back into silence, becoming quiet once more. Though the brutal aura had won, it had suffered significant losses, thinning out at a visible rate. Outside, Li Yang gradually regained his senses. The coldness in his eyes had diminished, and the expression on his face softened, bit by bit.

"Since you are homesick and miss your wives, why don't you go back and find them?"

Hearing that Li Yang actually had wives, Catherine was astonished. She could not imagine anyone willing to marry someone with his personality. While she silently mocked the blindness of others, a faint sense of irritation stirred deep within her—though she herself did not notice it.