Count Hannibal Lecter, 3rd of his line, was a Doctor and Cultivator trained in the arts of Roman medicine and spiritual Cultivator, had grown bored in his Castle in the Baltic Lands. His wife Wilhmena had died after three years of marriage, and left him with an heir and a daughter besides to carry on his name. The son was grown, Hannibal Lecter the 4th, and his daughter was married off to an impressive Italian Count.
So, he left the lands and the castle to his son, took as much gold as he could carry, and went off to travel the Silk Road. Offering his services as a doctor, then a cultivator. He had only gone twenty miles from home, when he came across his first round of fierce corpses surrounding what looked like an elaborate ritual, written in the old languages. He managed to kill the corpses and find the unfortunate individual in the center of it, an older sage who clearly had revenge on his mind ... too much of it. The formation had been done without finishing the final details, and then? He died, a victim of the trap he tried to lay.
Hannibal finished off the fierce corpses, and then took the scrolls the man had been trying to use. They were dirtied, but even he recognized the words 'demonic cultivation'. So of course, he studied it. He studied all the other scrolls he found, but every single one of them led him to one place. One country. One area. So off he traveled along the Silk Road, until he reached the place called The Middle Kingdom.
He helped heal the son of one of the minor sects, and found himself invited to dine at the largest sect in the region - Qinghe Nie. He sat at the table with the same kind of useless squabbling he had heard about his own table, years ago. He simply enjoyed the cuisine, eating delicately with his chopsticks. Most left him to his own devices, only asking him to pass a plate of meat. Surprised that he understood, perfectly. Why travel to a place when you have not mastered their tongue?
Only once did he glance up the long banquet table to see that the young master Nie was looking at him intently. He met the gaze without flinching or looking embarrassed, merely tipped his chin down. A smile lingered on his lips as he went back to his food - clearly the pretty young master of this fortress had never seen a man of his ilk before. How interesting.
Even more interesting was the invitation to come the next night, which he did. In the smaller hall, with a large table between them. Hannibal didn't even flicker surprise - he knew enough of politics to see what was happening here. Instead, he bowed deeply to the lord of the manor as he came in, keeping his eyes cast downward. "Good evening, Sect Leader Nie."
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So, he left the lands and the castle to his son, took as much gold as he could carry, and went off to travel the Silk Road. Offering his services as a doctor, then a cultivator. He had only gone twenty miles from home, when he came across his first round of fierce corpses surrounding what looked like an elaborate ritual, written in the old languages. He managed to kill the corpses and find the unfortunate individual in the center of it, an older sage who clearly had revenge on his mind ... too much of it. The formation had been done without finishing the final details, and then? He died, a victim of the trap he tried to lay.
Hannibal finished off the fierce corpses, and then took the scrolls the man had been trying to use. They were dirtied, but even he recognized the words 'demonic cultivation'. So of course, he studied it. He studied all the other scrolls he found, but every single one of them led him to one place. One country. One area. So off he traveled along the Silk Road, until he reached the place called The Middle Kingdom.
He helped heal the son of one of the minor sects, and found himself invited to dine at the largest sect in the region - Qinghe Nie. He sat at the table with the same kind of useless squabbling he had heard about his own table, years ago. He simply enjoyed the cuisine, eating delicately with his chopsticks. Most left him to his own devices, only asking him to pass a plate of meat. Surprised that he understood, perfectly. Why travel to a place when you have not mastered their tongue?
Only once did he glance up the long banquet table to see that the young master Nie was looking at him intently. He met the gaze without flinching or looking embarrassed, merely tipped his chin down. A smile lingered on his lips as he went back to his food - clearly the pretty young master of this fortress had never seen a man of his ilk before. How interesting.
Even more interesting was the invitation to come the next night, which he did. In the smaller hall, with a large table between them. Hannibal didn't even flicker surprise - he knew enough of politics to see what was happening here. Instead, he bowed deeply to the lord of the manor as he came in, keeping his eyes cast downward. "Good evening, Sect Leader Nie."