Chapter 8: Seven Weeks of Blood

I cultivated day and night without stop.

The taste of being at someone else's mercy in the last life was too unbearable.

After all, I have phoenix blood—something everyone drools over.

Even before Aubrey died, she drank my heart-blood for a full seven weeks.

Caleb tied me up and personally took the blood.

He said I was of the ancient bloodline, the Phoenix Patriarch's direct line; a mere few drops of heart-blood wouldn't kill me.

I cursed him viciously, cursed until my voice went hoarse and then was gone.

At the last drawing of blood, I struggled and cried, "Shouldn't have saved you..." Rope burned my wrists; the iron tang of my own blood filled my mouth.

The dagger pierced into my heart; Caleb's voice was indifferent: "Look at you—at this moment you're still angling to impersonate Aubrey’s lifesaving grace; hopeless."

I decided I would never again be a sacrificial lamb.

I set my jaw, vowing to never let him see me vulnerable again. The taste of blood and betrayal lingered, a reminder not to give anyone that power.