Chapter 65: You Were the One Who Asked Me to Bleed

They continued deeper.

Following the winding paths of the underground cavern, they pressed on, uncertain of how much time had passed. At last, a vast expanse opened before them.

Everywhere was suffused with a crimson glow, cast not by fire, but by the very stone itself—a fiery red rock that illuminated the subterranean world as brightly as day. In this sprawling underground chamber stood countless three-headed, bronze-hued beasts, each one motionless, as if cast from copper.

“These are the vanguard of my kin. There were once a hundred thousand; now, fewer than thirty thousand remain. That accursed taboo has claimed so many of our finest warriors—their deaths unknown and unavenged. The injustice is unbearable,” the three-headed beast spoke, his voice thick with fury and resentment.

Zhang Kai replied, “It is truly tragic. A warrior deserves to die on the battlefield, to fall in honorable combat. To be slaughtered by trickery, to die without even knowing how—it’s a bitter fate.”

The three-headed beast brightened. “You think so too?”

“Yes,” Zhang Kai answered. “That is the way of my people. We have countless warriors, scattered across innumerable worlds and universes, each fighting alone. If you know this world, you’d know there’s a nation that, with our blessing, made stories about us, even filming them using our likenesses. I myself had the honor of being featured in a television series,” he added with a cheerful smile.

“I don’t know what a ‘television series’ is,” the beast admitted, “but it sounds intriguing.”

Zhang Kai explained, “A television series is a way to recreate the heroic deeds of our people through fiction, so that future generations can look up to them. It ensures our names live on in the annals of our race.”

The beast’s crimson eyes gleamed. “Is that so? I wonder if I could be made into a film one day.”

“Of course,” Zhang Kai replied. “I’ll put in a word for you. Once it’s filmed, it will be preserved among your people, passed down forever. You deserve no less.”

The beast laughed heartily. “Brother Diga, I like you very much. Tell me, would you be willing to share blood with me?”

Zhang Kai looked puzzled. “Share blood?”

The beast explained, “We each draw our blood, mix it together, and drink it as one.”

“Certainly,” Zhang Kai said. “We met as adversaries, but fate has made us friends.”

“Come, let’s go to our sacred ground and prepare the blood-sharing ritual,” the beast, whose name was Kudeqi, called out happily.

The two walked together, passing through ranks of bronze-skinned, three-headed beasts until they reached a high platform of piled stones. Here, an enormous statue of a nine-headed beast was enshrined—majestic and fearsome. Each of the nine heads bore a different expression, and a single glance inspired a chill deep in the soul.

Upon arrival, the three-headed beast gestured to a stone brazier carved with green flames. “Brother Diga, this is our tribe’s sacred artifact, the Heartfire. If we pour our blood into it, the flames will fuse them together, binding our fortunes and fates as one. Then we each take half; should either of us face danger, the other will sense it at once and lend mysterious aid.”

Zhang Kai marveled. “Your people are remarkable. All right, let’s begin.”

Without hesitation, the three-headed beast bit into his own leg. A thick yellowish fluid streamed out, falling into the stone basin and causing the green flames to blaze higher.

Zhang Kai stepped forward calmly and spat into the basin with a “he, tui.”

The beast stared in confusion. “Brother Diga, what are you doing?”

With a smile, Zhang Kai explained, “Unlike other races, my people are beings of light. Our blood is stored in our bellies—when we spit, that is our blood.”

The three-headed beast was silent for a long while. “But the Heartfire isn’t reacting.”

Zhang Kai looked surprised. “Is that possible? Perhaps my blood is too advanced for the Heartfire to recognize?”

The beast was both frustrated and incredulous. Was his sacred artifact really being underestimated?

“Perhaps it’s destiny. We are beings of light, and no longer possess flesh and blood. Even this body is but a vessel I inhabit—a host I reclaimed from the brink of death. The blood of such a lowly species cannot truly represent me. Why don’t we set aside the ritual and forge our bond with sincerity?” Zhang Kai suggested, a touch helplessly.

The beast, unwilling to give up, replied, “Shall we try again?”

Zhang Kai pretended to hesitate, then nodded resolutely. “Very well, I will release my true essence blood. It will cost me dearly, but I hope it proves my sincerity.”

The beast was overjoyed. “Diga, you are a true brother!”

Zhang Kai approached the basin, dragged over a stone, climbed on, and loosened his trousers.

Under the beast’s watchful gaze, Zhang Kai relieved himself into the brazier.

The stream struck the green flames, which at first blazed up as if stimulated, leaving the beast dumbfounded. But the next moment, the flames rapidly shrank, dwindling to a wavering wisp, nearly extinguished.

“Stop! Quickly, stop!” the beast cried in alarm.

Just then, a faint red ripple spread out, covering the entire underground world. Its light flickered and dimmed, as if on the verge of collapse.

Seeing that Zhang Kai was still urinating, the beast’s eyes turned ferocious and he lunged to bite. Zhang Kai dodged and shouted, “Brother, what are you doing?”

With the stream cut off, the green flames barely survived, as fragile as a candle in a gale.

The beast was on the verge of tears, carefully shielding the flame until it stabilized, then glared at Zhang Kai. “What have you done to our sacred artifact? Do you know what happens if this fire goes out?”

Zhang Kai protested, “I offered my true essence blood, as you asked. I told you—my blood descends from the great King of Ultramen, divine blood that surpasses all others. You didn’t believe me, and now you blame me.”

The beast was speechless with grief. This fellow sounded so sincere—there was no hint of deception. But was that really blood? How could it nearly extinguish the sacred fire? Was it that his blood was too potent, or was it simply too base, so chaotic that even the Heartfire could not bear it?

“Why does your blood smell… odd?” the beast asked suspiciously.

Zhang Kai answered solemnly, “That’s the magic of Ultraman blood. Before it’s released, it’s fragrant and miraculous. Once released, it turns foul, polluting the air.”

The beast was at a loss for words.

Then Zhang Kai, biting his lip, offered heroically, “If you wish, I can try another kind of blood—my heart’s blood, the true lifeblood. If you—”

“No need, I think our friendship is best sealed with sincerity. No more rituals,” the beast interrupted hastily.

If he let this happen again, their tens of thousands of dormant warriors might be exposed before they could awaken!