Translator: Aran

  From the moment the fresh blood touched his hand, Ye Qingyu felt a scorching burning intent that stabbed into his bones from the center of his palm.

  This drop of fresh blood was like it was boiling. It constantly changed between a myriad of weird and wonderful forms, as if there was an incomparably frightful thing that was about to jump out from this drop of fresh blood. There was a ray of white light, a dim scorching red heat and a strange scarlet red power ..