He Yiming's spirit was intensely focused. In the next moment, it was completely immersed in a marvelous realm.

With White Horse Thunder guarding him, He Yiming felt utterly secure. At least on this island, no power could possibly surpass Thunder's.

Even Chu Haozhou, whom the Ancient Demon called the master of Wu Qi Chao Yuan, might not necessarily defeat Thunder.

Thus, He Yiming possessed profound confidence in his own safety.

As his spirit entered the Book of the Divine Path, he immediately perceived a rain of blood. This blood poured down endlessly from the heavens, slowly coalescing below to form a vast sea of crimson.

Within this sea of blood churned countless whirlpools; they formed and dissolved intermittently. Some were boundless, vast beyond measure, while others were as thin as a pinky finger.

Suddenly, an immense suction erupted from the largest, boundless whirlpool below, instantly pulling He Yiming in.

He Yiming's heart seized with alarm. He desperately struggled to break free, but to his horror, the pulling force was inconceivably powerful. Even with his Venerable-level strength, he was drawn in without the slightest resistance.

Once his spirit was swallowed, his entire body gave a slight tremor. Afterward, the temperature of his body began to drop, and his breathing became almost imperceptible.

Beside He Yiming, Thunder turned its head, its eyes filled with extreme perplexity.

Though immensely powerful, it knew little of human cultivation and could not comprehend what was happening to He Yiming.

However, intelligent as it was, it sensed vaguely that He Yiming's current condition was perilous.

It abruptly raised its head and let out a world-shaking neigh. This sound traveled far, causing visible ripples to spread through the surrounding space.

An equally earth-shattering roar echoed in response, and then a figure flew over as swiftly as an arrow.

But before this figure could arrive, another silhouette overtook it in mid-air and landed swiftly beside Thunder.

Mere moments later, the second figure finally reached the spot and also descended from the air. He regarded the first silhouette and said earnestly, "Brother Chu suspected long ago that Brother Bai's cultivation was unfathomably deep; it turns out you had already stepped into the Wu Qi Chao Yuan realm. My apologies for my previous lack of perception."

The first figure was Chu Haozhou, who had rushed over upon hearing Thunder's neigh. The figure who arrived later was naturally Bai Lingba, who was still holding the Precious Pig.

Bai Lingba glanced at Chu Haozhou, then at He Yiming, and stood rooted to the spot, unmoving.

Chu Haozhou offered an awkward smile and looked twice at He Yiming. Sensing the faint energy emanating from him, he asked suspiciously, "Brother Bai, what is wrong with Brother He?"

Perhaps due to his good mood, Bai Lingba casually replied, "He's hibernating."

"Hibernating?" Chu Haozhou blinked, murmuring, "I believe only animals hibernate."

Bai Lingba responded without turning around, "Humans are a type of animal."

Chu Haozhou fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he harbored immense apprehension toward Bai Lingba, a powerful master of Wu Qi Chao Yuan, and was unwilling to provoke him. He could only manage a few helpless chuckles and fell silent.

The three waited quietly until, an hour later, He Yiming finally exhaled deeply, and his spirit withdrew from the book.

While they waited, his spirit had plunged into the vortex. To his astonishment, the churning blood within the whirlpool seemed to have no effect on him, not even the slightest corrosive damage.

His mind immediately settled, marveling at the situation.

After feeling the suction force within the vortex, He Yiming realized he had likely fallen for the Ancient Demon's trap.

Entering this void space using spiritual power was not impossible, but it required specific, precise conditions.

If one's spirit was thrown into the Book of the Divine Path without any preparation, the only outcome was that the spirit would be drawn into the whirlpool, never to return.

However, the Ancient Demon could never have anticipated his peculiar physique. Although the crimson vortex could pull the spirit in, the energy within could not harm him.

This was because the power within the blood color was the Coagulation Technique of the Hao family of Changzhou. He had long mastered this power; therefore, within a system of the same origin, it could not inflict any damage upon him.

Looking up, the scene before him seemed to shift again in an extraordinary manner.

The endless vortex appeared to transform into a gigantic, continuously spinning mirror, upon which countless patterns were drawn. These patterns merged to create infinite, marvelous transformations.

He Yiming stared, dumbfounded, as all this unfolded. Slowly, these patterns seemed to acquire sentience and seeped into his mind, arranging themselves automatically within his consciousness.

In an instant, He Yiming witnessed many vivid tableaux, all sharing the common traits of the grotesque and the sanguinary.

Beings of immense power were slain; their bodies were brutally torn open. At the center of their brows, and at certain joints where bone met flesh, rested small, white, spherical beads.

He Yiming's brow lifted; he immediately recognized that those gruesomely murdered were, in fact, powerful Venerables, and the sarira within their bodies were being extracted in this fashion.

All the sarira were collected, with the largest one, situated in the center of the brow, being the most crucial.

Upon death, a Venerable could yield three to nine sarira, but among them, the one from the brow was the largest and contained the most potent life force.

Slowly, one hundred and eight sarira were gathered and arranged in a peculiar configuration.

He Yiming clearly saw that seventy-two were ordinary sarira, but thirty-six were the large type, like the one from the brow.

Then, a figure stood among these sarira. He suddenly opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood. This blood transformed in mid-air into tiny beads, which were then sprinkled evenly over the sarira.

A strange phenomenon occurred: the blood beads glowed with a mystical light, gradually sinking into the sarira.

He Yiming's eyes faintly shone as, at the center of the vortex, countless pieces of knowledge concerning the power of blood flooded his mind, making him understand that potent and wondrous energy resided within human blood.

This energy did not belong to the Five Elements, nor was it directly related to external energies, yet its profound mysteries were in no way inferior to any other power.

At this moment, he even felt a peculiar sensation:

Outwardly, there was a vast universe; but within every single human being, there was also a universe. However, the power of the individual universe was too minute to matter against the forces of the external world.

Day after day, year after year, after countless blood beads had permeated the one hundred and eight sarira,

the power within the sarira was finally ignited. They rose up, transforming into a mist-man—a crimson, blood-red figure of mist.

Only then did He Yiming understand the origin of the mist-man controlled by the Ancient Demon.

However, He Yiming was surprised to find that the sarira used by the Ancient Demon were certainly fewer than one hundred, whereas the sarira in this vortex totaled a full one hundred and eight.

But he quickly understood the difference.

The moment the mist-man in the vortex stood up, a massive pressure slammed into him.

He Yiming's spiritual energy was already incredibly resilient and powerful, yet upon contact with this pressure, he felt an instinctive chill. Just as he tried to resist, the pressure surged abruptly. In a single instant, the intensity of the pressure exceeded He Yiming's limit of endurance.

He seemed to hear a deafening roar, as if countless bombs were detonating beside his ears, plunging him into a state of deafness.

Then, He Yiming vaguely witnessed the blood mist-man casually wave its hand.

Instantly, the world changed. Countless whirlpools collapsed entirely; the entire universe groaned under the weight of its immense power. All diagrams vanished, along with the vortices and everything else.

Throughout the entire expanse, there was nothing but a deep crimson hue, even the air itself.

He Yiming shuddered violently, and when he opened his eyes, he realized his spirit had exited the miraculous Book of the Divine Path.

He inhaled deeply, trying to retain the knowledge of the Blood Power he had received.

He finally understood what those patterns represented.

This book contained the ultimate method for utilizing the power of Blood. By using one hundred and eight sarira from different locations, and refining them through a certain esoteric secret method, eventually, that blood-red mist-man would condense.

Once the mist-man formed, it would become a formidable adversary, even more troublesome than a Venerable.

When the Blood Mist-Man made contact with another, it could invade that person's body, drawing their blood to strengthen itself.

Because it was cultivated through the power of Blood, the mist-man shared a mysterious, vital connection with its original caster, the main body. The caster could completely control the mist-man's movements, directing it at will.

Furthermore, unless facing an existence as powerful as Thunder, the mist-man was virtually invulnerable.

Recalling the might of the mist-man described in the Blood Coagulation Sutra, a cold sweat broke out across He Yiming's back. It was fortunate that the Ancient Demon was only able to cultivate a flawed, incomplete Blood Mist-Man. Had he successfully forged the complete version, the outcome of today's battle would surely have been entirely rewritten.

However, he quickly reconciled himself to the thought.

If the complete Blood Mist-Man were so easy to forge, this world would have long since become the dominion of Blood Mist-Men.