The Blood Transformation Demon Blade — a divine artifact born purely for slaughter — was sinister by nature, violating the balance of the natural order itself.
Originally, Ryan had no plans to refine such a weapon.
But Deacon Frost and the Irish Mob had worked so hard to prepare every material and ritual step for him… it would've been downright rude to refuse their generosity.
At the same time, when Ryan siphoned over seventy percent of the bloody Evil Qi from the space above the altar, Deacon Frost's grand ascension to "Blood Godhood" slowed to a crawl.
Two hours later, the Blood Transformation Demon Blade floated before Ryan.
Under the nourishment of endless bloody Evil Qi, its internal runes multiplied, giving birth to twelve seals — a Medium-Grade Acquired Spirit Treasure, or in Earth terms, a Skyfather-level Divine Artifact.
From this point onward, any growth in its power would require more energy than all its previous stages combined.
However, the entity lurking beyond the blood dimension soon realized something was wrong.
A vast and terrifying will began to descend through the bloody corridor — the consciousness of a Dimensional God, perhaps even beyond Skyfather level.
The instant that will stirred, Ryan activated the Pure Yang Golden Bell.
The air trembled as the bell's sacred chime sealed time and space itself, shattering the bloody passage between worlds.
A faint roar echoed from the collapsing void — the fury of a god denied entry.
But with the bell's suppression across countless dimensions, that Dimensional God could only rage in futility.
When the Pure Yang Golden Bell returned to Ryan's Sea of Consciousness, the Blood Transformation Demon Blade dissolved into a streak of red light, fusing into his palm.
Feeling its murderous essence resonate within him, Ryan smiled faintly.
"What a good person," he said with mock reverence. "Good people deserve peaceful lives."
He chuckled to himself.
"The Sorcerer Supreme from Kamar-Taj might be waiting for this one to descend. Such a high-quality blood donor shouldn't be wasted… Ah, I'm really too kind."
Ryan's eyes then drifted to Deacon Frost, who was still suspended in the crimson light, his body mutating under the half-finished ritual.
He's also a good person — a very profitable one.
Deacon Frost: "…"
After Ryan had siphoned off most of the Blood Dimension's power, Deacon Frost's plan was both a success and a failure.
Originally, the Dimensional God had projected enough power to elevate Frost to Skyfather level — briefly, at least — strong enough to battle the Ancient One herself and open the way for dimensional invasion.
But with more than half of that energy stolen, Frost was left looking... pitiful.
"You! You damned thief!"
"Give me back my power and DIE!"
Frost's body swelled grotesquely to over two meters tall, sprouting twisted bat wings lined with bone spurs.
His roar shook the air as he charged forward, claws glowing with venomous green energy sharp enough to rend steel.
He moved like a blur, appearing in front of Ryan in an instant — claws aimed straight for Ryan's heart.
Ryan didn't flinch.
He didn't even bother to move.
A faint white light shimmered around him, blocking the strike effortlessly.
At that moment, a string of bone beads on Ryan's wrist detached, three merging into one as a surge of black mist poured out, forming twelve White Bone Gods and Demons.
Each one was a towering skeletal figure — black smoke coiling around its lower body, bone armor covering its chest, wielding jagged white weapons that gleamed with deathly aura.
Each possessed power comparable to the current Deacon Frost.
And together, they could form the Twelve Divine Generals Formation, capable of summoning the true White Bone God and Demon.
"What the hell is this?!" Frost shouted, eyes widening.
The answer came in the form of chains.
One of the twelve demons cracked a bone whip, and a sky full of chains erupted from the air, wrapping around Frost's limbs. The rest attacked simultaneously.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The scene devolved into pure carnage — twelve bone demons brutally beating a so-called Blood God into paste.
Even Thor, at his peak, would've been crippled under such a relentless assault.
After ten grueling minutes, the once-proud Deacon Frost — a Marquis-level Vampire — lay in a broken heap.
His regenerative powers were useless; most of his vital blood had been drained, leaving him a twitching puddle of crimson mud.
Ryan clicked his tongue.
"Tsk tsk tsk… brutal. Truly brutal."
He flicked his wrist, and the Taiyin Jade Ring on his finger flew out.
The Five Yin Ghosts within spiraled forth, wrapping Frost's body in a shroud of darkness and pulling him into the ring's inner space.
The ghosts then howled and swept through the nightclub, devouring every corpse in sight.
The Taiyin Jade Ring trembled, its inner space expanding by another hundred cubic meters.
Only then did Ryan retrieve the ring, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve before strolling out of the ruined nightclub.
Outside, Frank was already waiting beside the car.
"Boss, do you want me to call the cleanup crew?" he asked cautiously.
Ryan shook his head.
"No need. It's already handled inside. Drive me back to Presbyterian Hospital. Also, tell our people to take over the Irish Mob's assets and territory tonight."
He paused, smirking.
"Oh, and don't forget the Vampires' assets too. They're all good people."
Ryan leaned back in the seat as the car started moving.
"With these two new sources of income," he said lazily, "we can begin the preliminary acquisition of Osborn Group... and proceed to the next step of the plan."