CHAPTER 76: DISCIPLE CULTIVATION SYSTEM CH76 AFTERMATH

Art’s day had been rather uneventful—at least, that was what he wanted to believe.

In truth, it had been anything but.

He had witnessed a strange confession from Trish.

He had felt more powerful than ever during his fight against the students.

He had almost had his memories erased.

He had seen the world itself break apart before his eyes.

And finally, he had insulted the very individual responsible for breaking that world.

Oh, and did he also mention he had been stabbed through the chest... and also through the head? Not to forget, he now had demon blood flowing through his veins.

That last part should have been temporary—or at the very least, he desperately wanted to believe it was.

Anyway, after everything he had experienced, Art did not expect any more excitement. He thought the chaos was over, that maybe—just maybe—he would get a moment of peace. But he had been wrong.

The moment he opened his eyes in the dimly lit hospital room, he saw Grim.

And she, in turn, was passing him a neatly sliced piece of apple.

It felt strange having a woman other than his mother feed him, but he wasn’t exactly complaining.

"Open your mouth," Grim instructed, her tone surprisingly gentle.

Her hair, let loose, covered part of her eye, giving her an almost mysterious air. She no longer had the dark spots under her eyes, and without them, she looked... beautiful.

"Thanks," Art muttered, "but I’ll do it myself."

Just as he tried to move his hand out of the cloth to grab the apple slice, Grim immediately pointed the fruit knife at him.

"Eat it, or I will stab your hand."

"Excuse me—what the actual fuck?" Art exclaimed, blinking rapidly in confusion.

"You heard me loud and clear, partner," Grim said firmly. "You’re hurt. You don’t seem to register that, so I’ll make you eat if I have to."

"But—"

"I really care about you," she interrupted, her threatening tone softening into a nagging one. "More so than I even want to admit. I... I hate this. I hate when things I care about get hurt. I... lo—" She faltered, cheeks twitching as though the word was too heavy. "...I just really hate it."

She shook her head, visibly annoyed with herself.

"Look, woman, I just want to eat on my—"

Swish—!

The knife gleamed dangerously close past him, silencing his complaint.

"I would gladly let you feed me till I die," he blurted out instantly, gulping down his pride and singing praises for the sake of survival.

"Really?!" Grim’s eyes lit up with an odd joy.

She touched her chest unconsciously, startled by how rapidly her heart was beating.

"You’ll let me feed you for the rest of your life?"

"...It was actually a hyperbole—you know, an exaggeration," Art admitted, sighing. "But right now, just go ahead and stuff that fruit in my mouth. I’m really hungry."

He opened his mouth and even pointed to his tongue like a child.

Grim smiled softly, her heart pounding harder with each second. Slowly, she brought the slice to his lips. Under the dim lighting, a faint blush colored her cheeks.

Art caught the apple between his teeth and began chewing.

As he did, Grim’s hand grew bolder. She gently touched his lips.

Art froze. His eyes darted toward her, horrified.

He wanted to ask what the hell she was doing—why now, of all times—but Grim, entranced by his lips, only caressed them further.

"W–"

"Sshh."

When he tried to speak, she silenced him with a single gesture, leaning closer. Her gaze burned hot, and her mind seemed hazy with desire.

Art, on the other hand, was absolutely terrified for his lips.

Yes, a beautiful woman was about to kiss him, and yes, he was undeniably attracted to her—but this was a hospital. If someone like Trish were to suddenly burst into the room, it would create a storm of new problems.

And more importantly, Grim’s emotional state shouldn’t have been this high. She wasn’t the type to suddenly lose control, so why was she acting like this?

"Oh no... don’t tell me she’s—"

His thoughts melted away as Grim’s lips met his.

The kiss wasn’t what he expected.

It wasn’t tender.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t the kiss of someone in love.

It was desperate. Possessive. Almost... hungry.

Her fingers, once softly caressing his lips, now firmly held his jaw in place. Meanwhile, the fruit knife in her other hand moved toward his neck.

The cold blade brushed against his throat, and panic shot through Art’s body.

Finally understanding the situation, he tilted his neck and quickly moved his right hand forward, grabbing Grim’s wrist. With surprising strength, he pinned down the hand holding the knife.

"I... see..." he muttered breathlessly. His sapphire eyes glowed faintly as he used more of his strength to restrain her.

The assassin, lost in the moment, tilted her head in confusion. Slowly, she let go of the knife.

Art wasted no time—he caught the falling blade and stabbed himself with it.

Grim’s heated, lust-filled gaze instantly shattered into panic.

"What did you do?!" she screamed, jumping back, ready to call the nurses.

But Art quickly raised a hand, signaling for her to stop.

"It’s the demon blood," he said through gritted teeth. "You were... attracted to it."

Kiara’s blood had been mixed into his during her spell. The spell that kept the rank games running might have prevented wounds, but it didn’t account for pain or blood contamination.

Since demons were magic-born, like dragons, their blood carried potent mana properties. When Art’s body had broken down after his death, the spell that rewove his body back into reality had mistakenly treated Kiara’s blood as part of him, weaving it into his very existence.

But now, his body was rejecting it. Two opposing energies clashed within him.

And Kiara’s grandmother had belonged to the succubus class of demons. The blood of that lineage carried a unique signature that made entities—or simply members of the opposite sex—irrationally attracted to it.

That explained Grim’s sudden behavior.

Stabbing himself wouldn’t remove the demon blood, but the shock of it was enough to break Grim free from its influence.

"I’m fine," Art said weakly. "So don’t call anyone."

He pulled the knife out of his side. Blood spilled freely, dyeing his hospital gown a dark red.

The cloth, the bedsheets—everything was stained. But Art didn’t react much to the pain.

The past few weeks had sharpened his tolerance. Pain was nothing new. A knife wound like this wouldn’t faze him.

Make him scream? That was another story entirely.

"You know what..."

Staring at the blood still pouring out of him, he sighed, then turned to Grim with resignation.

"I think I will need a doctor after all