River Of Blood Stats Novels & Stories

He also drank liters after liters of blood, and nourished himself well enough, even managing to increase his cultivation and stats by a bit. [Existence Realm: [Pseudo Demi-Deity: 2/9 (Middle Stage)] has increased to [Upper Stage]!] [Blood Core Rank: [Level V: Dragon Vampire (Middle Stage)] has increased to [Upper Stage]!] [Dragon Heart Rank: [Level V: Developing Adult Blood Dragon (Middle Stage)] has increased to [Upper Stage]!] [All your stats have increased!] [You learned the following Skills] [Sonar Wave]: Produce a sonar wave from the sound made by your cry to expand the range of your detection.

I swayed where I stood, bile rising in my throat as his graphic details conjured visions I had tried so hard to repress - my mother and father torn limb from limb defending me, their lifeblood soaking the earth. A small broken sound escaped me. River's grin widened, his scarred face truly demonic. "And taking you as my captive after was the perfect finishing touch. I've so enjoyed watching your spirit slowly wither in my pack, pet." Red hazed my vision. With a raw scream, I flew at him in mindless fury, determined to tear his evil heart out with my bare hands or die trying. But faster than my eyes could follow, River seized my throat in an iron grip, cutting off my air. "Still just a weak li

I hope the moon shows mercy on me so that one day, I will be reunited with my mate, my kin in the spirit world. I can feel River’s coarse tongue against the wounds on my hide. It will not be enough to save me, as I lose blood far too quickly, as I can feel it in my throat. Our Wolfblood is not the only thing the moon blessed us with healing properties. But it doesn’t seem like my cousin is going to give up the fight quite as easily as I. My chest shudders as my lungs seem to shrink, but still River licks my wounds. Still, he bumps his nose against my hide whenever I close my eyes. Then my cousin sinks his fangs into his own front leg, and when his blood flows freely, he soaks my fur, my mout

My fingers tightened slowly as I asked, “I just need a box of cold medicine, the kind that reduces fever.” The nurse looked at me but didn’t move. Instead, she asked, “Basic paracetamol is one dollar. Cash or card?” One dollar? I couldn’t even come up with one dollar. All I had left on me was the 41 cents Cole hadn’t spent. The nurse waited quietly for a few seconds, her eyes sweeping over my miserable state. It seemed like she understood something. She tilted her chin toward the hallway and said, “See the door with the blue light over there? That’s a licensed blood donation center. It’s open twenty-four hours. Ma’am, you can sell your blood for some money.”

River had no idea about this and was laughing uproariously. Clive did not even think twice. He swung his sword and ended things right away. The outcome shocked River, who was the Saint of the Sosa Sect. His weapon was a spear, and he had killed numerous people with it. He was a stage-eight martial god and one of this world's most powerful fighters. Under normal circumstances, Clive could only bow down to him and try to get on his good side. However, he had vanquished River with a casual swing of the sword.

The blood wouldn't come off. No matter how hard I scrubbed, no matter how raw my hands became, it stayed there, a dark stain that seemed to sink deeper into my skin with every passing second. I crouched by the riverbank, the cold water biting into my fingers as I rubbed them together, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The night was quiet now, the battle behind us, but my mind was still filled with the screams. The gunfire. The bodies.

*Show them what happens to cages when the river rises. I don't shift into the wolf. I stay in my human skin, but I let the Southern Fire flood my veins until my hands are smoking in the damp air. I step directly into the black, rushing water of the River of Bones, the freezing current swirling around my ankles. I reach down, burying both of my hands deep into the river mud, my fingers locking around the ancient stone bed of the valley. The violet light at my neck doesn't just flare; it explodes.

I called. The figure ran. I walked behind, stomping my feet, and feeling a hot rage in my chest. Not fear. Don't panic. Rage. He burst onto the rooftop. Wind whipped around us. The city was spreading under, and ignorant. The sniper turned. Young. Thin. Eyes wild. "You're done," I said. He raised his weapon. I fired. He went crashing down, the rifle clattering. Trying to crawl he groaned and left a smear of blood.

Since she was family, and I'd always gotten along with her, I agreed. In the end, she floored my car and raced at 125 mph. She didn't even slow down through the crowded stretch. Right then, a family of three was about to cross the street. They hadn't even stepped onto the crosswalk when Maeve hit them. The baby she was holding flew out of her arms. Maeve didn't call 911. She backed up and ran over them again, making sure they were dead. Her brutal actions angered the people nearby. But she pretended to be me and acted as if nothing could touch her.

I say. "For what she expended." Maret chooses her words carefully. Sets them down like objects she is placing on a surface she isn't sure will hold them. "What she carries, what was revealed tonight, it isn't something we have a reference for. Not in living memory. The Moonblood hasn't manifested fully in generations." She pauses. "She used a significant portion of it in a very short time. The shift. The fight. And then what she did for you." She says that last part without inflection.