The Blood Moon Trial Begins

Smack. Rounding the corner, Lorence collided head-on with a hurried human scholar. Both jolted slightly as they caught their footing. The human scholar glanced down and saw dirty blood stains smearing his white robe. His face darkened, and he was just about to snap when he looked up, saw it was Lorence, and instantly pulled his expression back, retreating a step. "Lorence? You're back from Shattered Lake Prison? I'm so sorry, I ran right into you. Forgive me." "It's fine. Where are you heading?" "To the bar café! Today's the fifteenth—the Blood Moon Trial is always way more exciting when everyone watches together." "Didn't you see enough of that working at the prison?" The man chuckled. "Guess who's on the prisoner roster announced this morning? Valkas Ur, the former elven scholar from Kaimeng University!" *Valkas?* Lorence froze slightly. Wasn't that the patient he had treated just yesterday...? "Want to come along? Everyone hasn't seen you in ages. Showing up at the bar café would definitely give them a shock—" "All right." The human scholar's expression visibly stiffened. He clearly had not expected the notoriously reclusive Lorence to actually accept; the invitation had merely been a polite pleasantry... "Uh... then follow me. Oh, right, do you want to change your clothes first, or go back and treat your wounds?" Lorence looked down at the blood and grime covering his body. "Doesn't the bar café serve blood wine? That's good enough for healing. Or is it that entering like this is improper and would bother you all?" The human scholar shook his head immediately. "No, no, no, how could it? Honestly, I think what you're wearing looks quite dashing—very trendy. Walking down the street, you'd turn plenty of heads..." Lorence sneered inwardly. As the institute's sole blue-scaled fishman, how could he not know that the other scholars secretly looked down on him and ostracized him? He had never cared before. His focus was solely on pursuing power, and being excluded gave him the peace and quiet he preferred, freeing him from any collective activities. Besides, bound by the Racial Equality Act, no matter how much resentment these people harbored, they had to swallow it. On the surface, they even had to maintain an attitude of 'I respect you' and 'I don't discriminate.' Otherwise, the moment Lorence caught any leverage and reported them to the Racial Committee, the offender's future prospects would be ruined for the rest of their life. Yet Lorence's mood was terribly sour tonight. Faced with his colleague's insincere invitation, a playful streak of mischief had flared, and he had simply agreed on a whim. Before long, though, Lorence regretted it. He had never set foot in a bar café before. The blue and purple neon lights, the sultry, lingering music, the clinking glasses of the Blood Saint scholars—every single detail made him profoundly uncomfortable, so tense that his skin began secreting mucus. "Isn't that... Mr. Lorence?" "Congratulations on completing the Blood Embrace ritual and returning, Mr. Lorence!" "Come on, cheers, everyone!" After a brief round of boisterous cheering, everyone drifted back to their own circles. Even the human scholar who had brought him made no attempt to introduce him to his group, slipping away under the excuse of using the restroom. Still, Lorence breathed a sigh of relief. Finding an empty table, he sat down and ordered a Melancholy Blues. Soon, the bartender set down a dusky-blue cocktail swirling with crimson. "Your Melancholy Blues: twenty percent human infant blood, thirty percent blue-scaled fishman infant blood. Please enjoy." Lorence downed it in one gulp and licked his lips. His festering wounds began to mend rapidly. He surveyed the bar café. It felt little different from the fishman taverns in the slums—a pregnant woman drinking at the counter over there, an orc and a human procreating in a booth over here, and someone who had indulged in far too much moon sugar twitching and thrashing on the floor like a dog. Yet the topics of discussion differed from ordinary bar cafés. People here were debating whether anyone had yielded research results, declaring that one day they would slaughter the administration, or lamenting that this year was their final year under the up-or-out tenure system—all adult worries that drained the joy right out of drinking. A shadow passed across Lorence's crimson, fish-like eyes. Now that his Blood Embrace ritual was finished, he too would have to sign a junior researcher contract with the institute. Given the current quality of his source blood and the institute's atmosphere, he would almost certainly have to enter the 'up-or-out' competition. If he failed to produce the required results within the deadline and couldn't advance to associate professor, he would be dismissed and expelled. Whether he went to the Sin Hunting Hall or started his own business, any further academic progress would be out of the question. The problem was that associate professor positions were few and far between, while dozens of Blood Saint researchers competed for them... He had heard of a research institute in Outsea City that was even more absurd: thirty researchers competing for zero associate professor openings. When the twenty-year probationary period was up, they declared everyone unqualified and dumped the entire cohort back into society, exploiting twenty years of free labor. Lorence took a brooding swig of alcohol and flipped the drinks menu over. On the back, he found a familiar establishment advertisement—a list of internal organ buyback rates for Blood Saints, managed by the Red Mist Organ Exchange. *Human Blood Saint: Heart, 80 silver coins; Lungs, 50 silver coins; Kidneys, 40 silver coins; Eyes, 30 silver coins...* *Blue-scaled Fishman Blood Saint: Heart, 44 silver coins; Lungs, 23 silver coins...* The organ buyback prices for Blood Saints were markedly lower than market value. Naturally, this was because their organs mutated upon transformation into the Blood Saint clan; as a result, organs could only be sold to members of the same Blood Saint race, leaving a narrow market. On top of that, since all Blood Saints could regenerate through blood healing, demand for organ trading was low, depressing the price even further. For normal races, selling prices were at least two to three times higher. However, regrowing an organ took far too long for normal races and took a tremendous toll on daily life. Back when Lorence was at his poorest, he had sold his swim bladder and several thousand milliliters of blood just to scrape together some extra cash. Lorence reconsidered his options. *Now that I've lost the prison post, the subsidies from the institute will plummet. Things are getting harder for Granny Yann, so maybe I should sell a few organs first to raise some money to send her...* Granny Yann ran the Blue Scale Rearing Institute and had raised Lorence. The Blue Scale Rearing Institute was one of the few rearing institutes willing to take in fishmen. After reaching adulthood, Lorence had sent nearly half his earnings to Granny Yann to ease the institute's financial strain. After all, if the Blue Scale Institute went under, several hundred more blue-scaled fry would perish each year. Free economy, free market. Infants not accepted by a rearing institute had no choice but to try their luck in the next life. At any rate, he had no vices: he didn't trade stocks, didn't spend on luxuries, and lived and ate at the research institute. That meager amount of money couldn't buy any decent sorcery spirits anyway; it was better used to add extra meals for the little fishmen at the institute. Just as Lorence was pondering which organs to part with, eight light screens suddenly flickered to life in the center of the bar café, offering every patron a view of the live broadcast. "It's starting! It's starting!" "Boss Snake, get over here and open the bets!" "Man, when are we going to see another 'Battle Royale' mode? That one was an absolute blast to watch." "I still think 'Computer' mode is the best. The visual of electric currents bursting straight out of eye sockets is simply magnificent." "Today isn't a festival, so how could there be a special mode? Don't hold your breath; tonight is definitely Classic Mode. I love Classic Mode anyway—plain, but packed with thrills." As the light screens illuminated the room, even Lorence, who had little interest in the Blood Moon Trial, could not resist looking up. The Blood Moon Trial had begun.