Early next morning, before the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, Han Shuo was already awake. His back still ached faintly from Eric's brutal strike, but the demonic yuan had worked wonders overnight—the wound was now only a faint bruise. He flexed his shoulders, feeling the new layer of lean muscle that had formed beneath his skin.
*That bastard Eric… his fighting aura felt so thick, so raw. When I finally make him lose control and bury that massive cock in my ass, I bet it'll feel even better than the power I stole from it.* The thought sent a dark shiver of anticipation down his spine.
He checked the wooden barrel first. Little Skull was still submerged, the seven whirlpools spinning lazily. The little demonic treasure's cracked ribs had almost fully mended; faint black demonic light flickered across its bones. Han Shuo sent a gentle mental command and the skeleton climbed out obediently, clacking its jaw in what felt like a happy greeting.
"Good boy," Han Shuo murmured, patting the smooth dome of its skull. "Keep getting stronger. One day you'll help me drag that muscle-headed Eric into my bed."
After hiding the barrel again, Han Shuo slipped out to finish his morning chores. The academy was still quiet. He swept the stone statues with unusual vigor, his body moving faster and more precisely than ever. When Jack arrived, the little fatty's eyes widened.
"Bryan… you look different. Did you secretly eat something good again?" Jack whispered, staring at the faint definition of muscle showing under Han Shuo's coarse shirt.
Han Shuo just grinned foolishly and shoved half his white bread into Jack's hands. "Eat more. You'll need the energy when we start claiming what's ours."
Jack blinked, confused, but happily stuffed the soft bread into his mouth.
By the time the necromancy students began heading to class, Han Shuo was already positioned at the window, broom in hand, listening intently to Master Gene's lecture. Today's topic was the precise synchronization between incantation and hand gestures for summoning mid-level dark creatures.
Han Shuo absorbed every word. His mental strength had grown again after absorbing Eric's aura, and the concepts clicked faster than ever.
At the same moment, in the training field next door, he caught sight of a familiar tall figure—Eric, the powerfully built swordsman, now wearing a clean white tunic that clung to his broad chest and thick arms. The man was sparring with another knight, muscles rippling with every swing of his blade. Sweat darkened the fabric across his chest, outlining the hard slabs of pectorals and the deep groove between them.
Han Shuo's grip tightened on the broom handle. *Look at him… all that raw strength, that straight, dominant energy. I can already imagine how he'd pin me down, those powerful hips slamming into me, stretching me wide while he growls like an animal.* His breath quickened, a slow, possessive heat building low in his belly.
Eric suddenly paused mid-swing, frowning as if sensing something. His sharp gaze swept toward the window where Han Shuo stood. Their eyes met for a split second. Han Shuo quickly dropped his head and continued sweeping with that same vacant, foolish smile.
Eric shook his head, muttering, "Must be imagining things… just some crazy errand boy." He turned back to his sparring partner, but the image of the skinny youth's strangely intense stare lingered in his mind.
Later that afternoon, while Han Shuo was disposing of waste near the dark major building, he ran into Lian. The pretty boy was limping slightly, one hand subtly rubbing his still-tender backside. When he spotted Han Shuo, Lian's beautiful face flushed crimson and he glared daggers.
"You—! Don't think I've forgotten what you did yesterday, you lunatic!" Lian hissed, voice low but trembling with humiliated anger. His soft golden hair was slightly messy, and the way his black mage robe clung to his slender, feminine frame made Han Shuo's mouth go dry.
Han Shuo smiled innocently. "I was only trying to help you up… and rub the pain away."
Lian's cheeks burned brighter. He looked ready to explode, but there were other students nearby. He settled for a vicious glare and a whispered threat: "Just wait. Next time I practice with you, I'll make sure you can't sit for a week."
The threat only made Han Shuo's dark smile deepen. *Oh, Lian… keep talking like that. One day soon I'll have you bent over, pretty ass up, begging me while I make you feel every inch of what you're threatening.*
As evening fell, Han Shuo returned to the warehouse and continued practicing the "Mystical Glacial Spellfire." The pain in his right arm had lessened; red-and-purple sparks now danced faintly at his fingertips. He could feel the power building.
Before sleep, he opened the small dark-green jade box he had taken from Dylan. Inside lay a pitch-black pill the size of a fingernail, radiating a sinister, icy aura that made his demonic yuan thrum with excitement.
Han Shuo's eyes gleamed with hunger.
*Whatever this is… it's going to make me stronger. And the stronger I get, the sooner I'll be able to claim every last one of them—pretty boys like Lian and Fin, and especially powerful straight men like Eric and Claude who'll fuck me senseless once I break them.*
He swallowed the pill without hesitation.
A cold, violent energy exploded through his meridians. Han Shuo clenched his teeth, body trembling as the demonic yuan eagerly devoured and refined it. Sweat poured down his back, but a dark, ecstatic smile never left his face.
Tonight, his dreams were filled with strong, muscular bodies pressing him down, thick cocks stretching him open, and the sweet sounds of once-straight men losing themselves completely to him.
The hunger only grew.