Asceticism

When her vision cleared, Mo Xi could see the basement before her, filled with dried blood and lined with torture implements.

At the center of the basement, a figure knelt before a corrupted world node, absorbing its polluted energy while lashing himself with a penitential scourge.

The scourge was woven from multiple leather cords, each tipped with a shard of bone. Every time the figure struck himself, blood and flesh went flying.

Mo Xi sucked in a breath at the sight. It was, to put it mildly, rather gruesome.

“I didn’t expect him to be an ascetic. This really is bad luck.”

As she readied herself for battle, Mo Xi recalled her opponent’s fighting style.

As far as she remembered, he was an ascetic who whipped himself and took comfort in pain. Rumor had it that a certain Miss Death had been hunting him down because of his ascetic practices.

Thinking of his absurd regenerative ability and bizarre mental state, the life energy within Mo Xi began to stir.

Perhaps he sensed Mo Xi watching him, because the ascetic kneeling before the world node abruptly stopped what he was doing.

He turned to look at Mo Xi. The blood-soaked rags covering most of his face shifted slightly. He seemed to be smiling...