The outpost burned beneath the starlit canopy of the Qianlong wilderness, its rafters collapsing under showers of amber and ash. The scent of scorched iron and human panic in the air.
Li Wuji stood at the edge of the inferno, his black robes snapping in the night wind like torn banners. Around him, his newly gathered bandits screamed their war cries—half-mad, half-entranced—as the crimson gleam of the Blood Lotus relic pulsed in their midst.
The relic was no larger than a clenched fist, its surface rippling like liquid garnet. Every few breaths, it throbbed—slowly, hypnotically. With each pulse, the bandits' eyes clouded over with the sheen of bloodlust.
"Kill! Cut them down! For the Lord of Blood!"
Their shouts rose, ragged and ecstatic. The energy of the Blood Lotus flowed through them, eroding reason, kindling only hunger. Li Wuji's smile was faint and cold as he surveyed the chaos.
