Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 347

Chapter 347: Witnessing The Blooded Aura Technique Personally
Claudia hurried to bring the Ancestral sword to Chiron. Immediately he touched it and activated his Aura energy, the healing function of the sword was activated. And it instantly healed his wounds.

“Hmmm! Very interesting!” Barbara commented as she stroked her chin.

Her eyes on the Ancestral blade were something that Chiron could clearly see from the corner of his eyes.

Her greed for the blade was brazen in her gaze.

“Now, for the Tear down before the final backdrop!” Chiron muttered in his head. Instantly, tears filled his eyes as he rushed for his Grandmother.

For such an occasion, one must wear the proper look to propel both the emotions of the audience and create the desired mood.

Chiron began the act with a Wail to the sky for his loss.

And so it began…

Under the velvety night sky, where stars twinkled like distant lanterns, this village of the Flavus (yellow) Aura was shrouded in a solemn silence.

It was supposed to echo with laughter and the melodies of celebration, but it now stood hushed, the air heavy with a sense of impending loss. The joyful day, meant for Chiron’s marriage to Claudia, had turned into a nightmare.

In the dim light of flickering candles that signified a most joyous event all now mournful, the villagers gathered around Igbi’s (Chiron’s) Grandmother, her frail form lying still on a makeshift bed.

The soft glow illuminated the worry lines etched on their faces, their eyes reflecting the grief that had settled upon the village like a heavy fog. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows upon the worried faces, enhancing the gravity of the situation.

Chiron, his eyes swollen from tears, clung to his Grandmother’s weakening body. His sobs, normally drowned out by the village’s cheer, now pierced the night with a heartbreaking melody of despair. His hands trembled as they brushed against her skin as if hoping to infuse her with his own vitality, willing her to hold on just a moment longer.

One of the villagers stepped forward, a man of around Old Magu’s age. He was the village healer, a wise old man with deep wrinkles etched by years of experience. He moved silently around Chron’s Grandmother.

His hands, weathered yet gentle, hovered over the wounded woman, attempting to draw upon ancient remedies to ease her pain. The silence was broken only by the soft chanting of incantations, a desperate plea to the spirits for mercy.

Outside, the night seemed to hold its breath, as if nature itself recognized the gravity of the moment.

The rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze and the distant chirping of crickets served as a mournful backdrop to the village’s sorrow. The stars above, usually symbols of hope and guidance, now appeared as distant witnesses to a tragedy unfolding below.

In this melancholic atmosphere, the villagers stood together, their hearts heavy with grief and disbelief. The village, once filled with the promise of a joyous union, now bore witness to a family torn apart by violence. The night, which was supposed to be a celebration of love, had transformed into a haunting tableau of despair, a reminder of the fragility of life and the darkness that could cast its shadow even in the midst of happiness.

“Grandma! Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me in this wicked world!” Chiron cried, pouring his heart out like a little child. “If only this useless sword could heal you, I would have done it! But it only works for its user. Unless… Unless I abdicate as its user! I…”

“Hush! My child, please don’t do that. You said so yourself. The moment that you do that, your cultivation rank will drop. It will take away your power. But if you continue with the sword, it will continually increase your power.”

Old Magu advised as she gave out intermediate coughs. These were all coughs of blood.

Meanwhile, Barbara continued to take note of the conversation. Her eyes were still locked on the sword.

Old Magu raised a hand to his face and stroked it gently. Her affection for him was obvious.

This moment was witnessed by all, especially Barbara. While she was not moved by what she saw, observing the moment like a bystander, Mani was different.

Right now and here, what he saw was not Old Magu lying down and dying on the ground, but his own woman.

After all, on his wedding day, he had managed to save his father and his village but unfortunately lost his wife.

Now, yet again, another wedding, and Igbi had saved his wife but was now losing his grandmother.

It felt like a coincidence but at the same time, it felt like a trick of Fate. It was as if the very stars were reminding him, opening the wound that was still fresh in his chest.

Just like Chiron was powerless right now to save old Magu’s life, that was how he too had been powerless to save the life of his beloved wife.

The loss of his wife was a tragedy that still haunted him over and over again.

At this moment, he could imagine himself in Chiron’s shoes.

And then instantly, he arrived at a swift decision.

Immediately, he stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Barbara asked.

“The fight is already over. All I am doing is fighting for the Highland Tribes. Besides, we came to recruit him right? Then we better show our hospitality.”

He removed his hand from Barbara’s grip as he rushed forward, parting the ground as he stepped up to the center.

“Brother!” Mani called to Chiron, that word carrying a meaning deeper than just a call, but an understanding of the current circumstance.

“She is still alive, and I think that I can help save her life.”

Those words surprised Chiron.

“Really!? Stranger, can you really save my Grandmother?”

Mani nodded, “but what I am about to do is very forbidden!”

“Please, do it. And I’ll do anything you want. ANYTHING at all, I’ll do it!” Chiron pleaded.

Mani sighed as he raised his hand, and then his eyes suddenly changed color from their dark shade to deep red.

Mani had dual aura energy. He had both purple and red.

Purple, he had gotten from his father by birth, and red from the sacrifice of his mother.

*Blooded Aura Technique: Bloom of the Red Flower*

Under the shimmering moonlight, Mani stood with outstretched hands, his palms glowing with a soft, ethereal light.

He channeled the ancient Blooded Aura Technique: Bloom of the Red Flower, a power only whispered about in legends.

As he invoked the technique, the air crackled with energy, and the very ground beneath him seemed to tremble in anticipation.

With a focused mind, Mani directed the technique towards the dying body of Ralph, the fallen enemy. As the technique took effect, a vibrant surge of crimson aura enveloped Ralph’s form. The aura, pulsating with life force, began to swirl and dance, weaving intricate patterns like blooming petals in the wind.

The aura energy spread, encasing Ralph’s body in a luminous cocoon of red light. As the technique worked its magic, Ralph’s form gradually disintegrated, becoming one with the aura energy. It was a sight both awe-inspiring and eerie as if the very essence of life was being harnessed in an otherworldly ritual.

The crowd gasped as they backed away.

Simultaneously, the ground beneath Mani transformed. It rippled and shivered as if responding to the surge of energy coursing through it. An enchanting display unfolded, as the ground’s surface seemed to sprout immense, translucent petals, each petal crafted from the same vibrant, crimson aura energy. The ground now resembled a giant rose petal, glistening under the moonlight.

Amidst this spectacle, the aura energy flowed towards Old Magu, its essence gentle yet powerful. It enveloped her like a warm, healing embrace, seeping into her wounds and injuries. The aura energy pulsed with life, mending torn flesh and soothing the pain with a tender touch.

Old Magu lay still, her eyes fluttering open as the healing aura worked its miraculous effects. The wounds that had marred her body slowly began to fade, replaced by the healthy glow of rejuvenated skin. It was as if the essence of the fallen enemy was being transformed into life, breathed back into the woman who had suffered at his hands.

The air was thick with the heady scent of roses as if the very aroma of healing had permeated the surroundings. The luminous aura energy continued to dance and twirl around Old Magu, mending her injuries with every graceful movement. The process was both beautiful and haunting, a testament to the incredible power of the Blooded Aura Technique.

In the end, as the last vestiges of aura energy dissipated into the night, Old magu lay healed, her breathing steady, and her wounds vanished as if they had never existed. The giant rose petal made of aura energy slowly crumbled, returning the ground to its natural state.

The crowd was left speechless.

It was a moment of profound awe and gratitude, as the village witnessed the miraculous healing power of the Blooded Aura Technique. Mani, his hands still glowing with the remnants of aura energy, looked upon Igni’s grandmother with a gentle smile, his eyes reflecting the relief and wonder of the villagers who had just witnessed a miracle unfold before their very eyes.