>>5326684And that is "When ghosts are reincarnated, the rage they felt remains, spread out across the world. And within these orphan emotions, the final memorial of all things rests, when all other signs of their existence has faded. Blood embodies life, it carries both passion and sorrow. Rage is a kind passion. Within each drop of blood, there then slumbers, ghosts of ghost. Thus within life, there lingers death. Ghosts within blood. A legacy of spite, passed down and inherited eternally. Life and Death, intertwined, Yin and Yang, in harmony"
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[Special Condition Met: Roll 108 against a devil/ demon of any kind]
And so, for the briefest of moments, the great wheel of reincarnation is revealed to you in its full majesty, set against a cosmic field of stars and nebulas, where you float, egoless and bodiless, until you are dragged back into your flesh and return to your living.
"I understand" You whisper, closing your eyes
[Secret Art unlocked: Cat's Court: Spiteful Blood Legacy (猫 法院: 刻毒血遗产, Māofǎyuàn: Kèdúxuèyíchǎn. A technique that forcefully awakens the last lingering dregs of personality within the rage left behind and inherited within a single drop of blood. Can be used to enhance one's self through the rage of their ancestors, create grudge miasma within a target to "poison" them, or as an attack by briefly giving the long sleeping anger a physical form. Very versatile. A mixture of "Pure" Carmine Mysticism and Necromancy, and an evolution of Blood Refinement]
Baol-Wuyawang has drank the blood of countless victims, and he has spilled a sea of it. His heart may be stubbornly refusing to stop or explode by the sheer amount of rage you are pouring into him, but he has spilt plenty of blood that can be reminded of the rage and fury of its original owners.
And so, he is chained, by the blood pouring out of his open belly, gouged out eyes, and broken neck and limbs. They form into hundreds of hands, attached to ghoulish figures like corpses left to be picked at by crows, all missing their eyes. They grab ahold of his hanging, swinging arms, and pin them to the ground, they pull open the cut along his stomach, and wrap around his legs as they begin to melt back into blood, cursing the name of Baoli-Wuyawang, as they are forcefully consumed by the most potent grudge that he unwittingly took into himself through his consumption of his fallen enemies and rivals.
Another crow demons, stands from the blood, formed by it, and growl. The familiarity of the dreg's voice is enough to bring Baol-Wuyawang to his senses, as the memory plunges a hand into his chest, all the way out his back. Missing his heart by an inch.
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