Red.
The color of blood.
He shook his head, feeling nothing but dizziness.
Where am I?
A wave of excruciating pain struck his chest and abdomen!
He groaned in panic and opened his eyes blankly, but all he could see was blood-red.
"Qiren, don't move. Hold on a little longer! The ambulance will be here soon." Just then, a gentle, familiar voice sounded beside him.
For an instant, he calmed down.
But in the next moment, the pain in his chest and the dizziness in his head grew increasingly intense.
"Wu Qiren!" The voice became more frantic. "You can't die here! You—you haven't changed the world yet! How can you die in a place like this? You haven't changed the world, so how are you qualified to have a child with me?!"
Change the world? Have a child?
His mind cleared for that brief instant. He sucked in a deep breath, and felt much better.
Amid the blood-red haze, he endured the agony and forced a smile.
"Being childish is a disease—it—needs—treatment~"
That familiar voice seemed to cry with joy.
But the voice that laughed and sobbed at the same time grew fainter and weaker.
Like a candle on the verge of going out.
Suddenly, he felt terrified.
No.
It couldn't be.
He smiled through the pain and tried to call out to that voice, to joke with her as he always did.
Yet he opened his mouth blankly.
Only to discover that he couldn't say her name.
Everything before his eyes was still blood-red, and his entire body grew hotter and hotter.
"Pfft!"
Tales crashed into a patch of grass.
He opened his eyes and fully awoke from the bloody haze.
"Damn it! What happened?" Beside him, the pale, blond man cursed in shock and anger.
"Why did it consume so much blood?" His voice was filled with doubt and displeasure.
Only Tales knew that when the blond man transformed into blood and carried him away at high speed, Tales had found a Fragment. In the Fragment's dream, he seemed to have experienced "Loss of Control" once again.
This time, what had shifted seemed to be some of the blood into which the blond man had transformed.
Tales lay on the ground coughing dryly, as though he had just gotten off a roller coaster.
Fortunately, he had experienced motion sickness—or, uh, "person sickness"—before, back at Yordel's place.
Thinking this, he shook his head and drove the unsettling blood-red color from his mind.
"We were almost there—are your injuries not healed yet? You've even become rusty with Blood Shadow Dance." The handsome blond man muttered, then roughly grabbed Tales up.
It was already dusk. Had the sun really set?
It was a little cold. Were they outside?
Only then did Tales see clearly that they had landed in a patch of grass beside a dim path. Before them stood a spacious manor and its sprawling garden.
A flag fluttered above the iron gate between the garden and the path. Overall, however, the manor seemed overgrown with weeds, as though its owner had neglected it.
If not for its slightly inferior elegance, it could almost rival Mindis Hall.
Tales narrowed his eyes at the flag and saw a strange three-petaled flower in red, blue, and green.
Tales recognized the flower. It was the favorite flower of Wu Qiren's first girlfriend.
Was this the Iris Flower?
A noble crest?
This was probably one of the "enemies" Gilbert had mentioned.
This was bad. He had landed right in the enemy's nest.
"Move, you Short-Lived Species brat!" The handsome blond man impatiently shoved him toward the manor.
Tales's mind began racing as he analyzed the situation.
It seemed this blond pretty boy could talk. He wasn't some savage, uncontrollable monster.
Judging from what he had said when kidnapping me:
"I was only stretching my muscles a little—"
"Fortunately, the sun is almost down—"
Fortunately, he was rational. Tales thought of a plan. His JC Dagger was tucked at his waist, but he clearly couldn't count on anything like "holding the dagger to his throat."
Nor could he suddenly cut himself to send a signal to Yordel and Gilbert. That would be too obvious and deliberate.
Then he could only gather information first.
"Hey, hey!" Tales turned around and angrily shook off the blond man's hand. "With your bearing and demeanor as a great noble, shouldn't your words and actions match? Mind your manners!"
The blond man stopped at those words.
"Manners? Bearing?" He grinned and deliberately revealed two pairs of savage fangs. "Why would I need manners with food destined for my stomach?"
The blond man even ground his sharp fangs together in the air.
He really was similar to the creature in my memories.
Yet Tales merely turned his head to study the two fangs before curling his lip disdainfully. "You treat food so poorly. Clearly, you have no talent as a gourmet. Emotional and physical conditions affect the quality of food. What if your rudeness affects the taste of the ingredients?"
The handsome blond man froze for three seconds.
The ferocious expression on his face was only half-formed.
Then he recovered.
"For your size, you're quite courageous, Short-Lived Species brat." He chuckled. "But you're not the first courageous piece of food. Don't hold out hope. You won't escape."
"So my flesh really tastes good?" Tales made an expression of sudden understanding, then unexpectedly raised his leg and walked toward the manor.
The man had just been preparing to carry the little brat into the manor when he saw the child walking ahead of him.
Facing food that seemed to have no intention of escaping—in fact, he didn't even deign to call it "prey"—the puzzled blond man raised a hand to scratch his head. Halfway there, he felt it was undignified and lowered it again. Then he followed Tales at a speed visible to humans.
"Not flesh. Only blood. You must have been injured recently, right? The scent of blood is everywhere. Tsk, tsk, it smells wonderful. I really want to take a bite first."
The two continued walking.
"Then how are you planning to eat me? Tear me apart raw or suck my blood directly? Which part will you start with? What about seasoning?"
"People from the Tuval Family prefer tearing prey apart raw—they enjoy its screams. We usually suck blood directly. There are two methods: neck-feeding and wrist-feeding. As for seasoning—wait, why am I telling you this, Short-Lived Species brat?"
The blond man stopped and looked suspiciously at Tales, whose words and actions were clearly unlike those of a seven-year-old child.
"I'm destined to be food, right? Isn't it a virtue to show some courtesy to food that willingly sacrifices itself? Besides, food in a good mood might taste better too—"
"You're a strange piece of food. You don't think this will make me spare you, do you?"
"Rare delicacies are naturally rare in this world. Come, come, don't stop. Let's keep walking. May I ask your name, sir?"
"Brat, why are you asking? Planning revenge?" The blond man stopped again, his suspicion and wariness toward the strange boy growing stronger.
"With your skills, getting revenge wouldn't be easy. Besides, since you're going to eat me, shouldn't I at least know your name? Isn't it rude to keep calling you 'hey, hey'? Uh, you don't happen to be a bastard without a surname, do you? You should at least have a name, right?"
The last sentence seemed to strike the blond man's pride even harder.
He answered arrogantly and proudly, "My name is Istrone van Lyka Lister Corleone, First-Class Blood Knight of the Night Kingdom, leader of the Seven Branches, of the Corleone Family."
"Come on, keep walking. So why do you call me a Short-Lived Species?"
"Humans whose lifespans do not reach one hundred and twenty years—what else could they be? Even a young brat like you has at most another ninety years to live." Istrone spoke contemptuously.
"So you're, uh, a 'Long-Lived Race'? Your lifespans are much longer than ours?"
"Of course. The lifespan of the Blood Race is infinite. How could an inferior Short-Lived Species imagine it?"
Tales silently stored all the information in his mind.
Istrone Corleone.
Long-Lived Races. Short-Lived Species.
The Night Kingdom. The Corleone Family.
A superior Blood Race.
And—most importantly—he didn't seem interested in why I had appeared in Mindis Hall.
This might be his only chance at survival. Oh, right—he had originally planned to "eat" me.
Tales and Istrone entered the manor. Tales narrowed his eyes as two fierce men wearing red headscarves approached them from the entrance.
The Blood Bottle Gang? What were they doing here?
"Why stop here? Wouldn't it be better to fly straight in?"
"If not for Blood Shadow Dance—cough, cough—"
The handsome young man Istrone suddenly realized that the Short-Lived Species brat beside him could understand his words. He cleared his throat with great composure, then continued calmly:
"Hmph. If this weren't someone else's territory, I would have flown straight in. But we're guests, after all, so we must naturally show our host respect and courtesy."
A Long-Lived Race who cared about his bearing, Tales silently noted.
The two Blood Bottle Gang members walked over and glared at the pair. "Who are you—"
But Istrone frowned, hardened his expression, and interrupted them disdainfully:
"Get lost, inferior Short-Lived Species!"
Tales's face twitched. He decided to retract what he had just thought.
A few minutes earlier.
After the disastrous defeat in the "One Night War," Nekla, the "Red Viper," had been one of the Blood Bottle Gang's few ruling figures to hurry back to the Royal Capital. As the leader of the Eight Psychic Warriors, he had spent the entire day after the battle in a state of frantic chaos.
At least until the other three Psychic Warriors and the long-hidden Blood Elementalist hurried back to the Royal Capital, he had to keep the situation under control.
First came the aftermath of the "One Night War."
Aside from a grand explosion, the Air Elementalist had vanished without leaving a trace. His personal guard—the lunatic with the sword—was lying beside Rolf, with his upper body nearly split open. Thus, they could only conclude that Ashida had been killed. Nekla therefore had to confirm whether the Brotherhood's Three Assassins—especially Black Sword himself—were in the Royal Capital before he dared go out. In fact, Tink, who had fled back from Red Quarter, had always thought Nekla was overthinking it. Even if Black Sword was in the Royal Capital, he probably wouldn't take an interest in Tink.
Tink and Numino were among the few members of the Blood Bottle Gang's Twelve Supremes to make it back. "Damn it, cowards really do survive to the end." —Nekla. They were both vague about what had happened in Red Quarter. Aside from fear and panic, they could provide nothing useful. Nekla directly abandoned his attempt to uncover the truth. As for avenging the Air Elementalist, he would wait until the Blood Elementalist returned before deciding.
After losing Red Quarter, a lucrative district the Blood Bottle Gang had operated for years, the gang's morale plummeted, and many ordinary members began wavering. Their clients—whether nobles, merchants, or hidden competitors—all declared that their "deep friendship with the Blood Bottle Gang would never waver" while drastically reducing business dealings and even withdrawing funds. Some had even broken contracts midway through. "I'll—calm down, I need to calm down. Blood debts will be repaid!" —Nekla.
In the other districts of the Royal Capital, the demoralized Blood Bottle Gang was also driven back step by step by the Brotherhood's unstoppable "lower-class people." It was easy to imagine that once the news spread throughout the country, the struggles in every branch would look the same.
Second, one of the Blood Bottle Gang's main supporters, the Cavendish Family, whose crest was the Tricolor Iris, had acted indifferent even after learning of their crushing defeat. They had sent neither reinforcements nor consolation—not even a copper coin of comfort. What infuriated Nekla most was that after they had done so much dirty work for the Cavendish Family throughout the country, at the critical moment that Termination Knight named Sechelle had not even allowed him through the gates of the Duke's manor! And then, at noon, they had given Nekla a task: "Investigate the theft at Mindis Hall." A theft? Damn it, which part of him looked like an Alert Officer or a private detective? Did he have to cut it off?
Speaking of Alert Officers, Nekla became even more furious. Damn it, the big Green Skin at the XC District Vigilant Hall—was his name Lobik or Lockebik? He always wore a smiling face, yet during the crucial moment of the One Night War, he hadn't sent a single reinforcement. So much for "cooperation between citizens and the authorities"! Fine, Nekla had swallowed his displeasure and asked him for a few corpses, but the man had still dragged his feet. The funniest part was how he pretended to be a righteous hero. He had accepted so many benefits from them, and now he wanted to uphold justice? Where had he been before? Talking about justice in front of Nekla? Which part of him looked like a good person? Did he have to cut it off? Damn it, in the past, Nekla would have dared go to his house that very night, strip his wife naked, and hang her from the West Gate as a doorbell!
And now Nekla had to deal with another matter. The three Vampires from the Cavendish Family had actually been dumped at the Blood Bottle Gang's DC District branch by the Iris Flower with instructions to "entertain them properly." Did they think they were hosting lost puppies? They needed the blood of ten people every day! They were even demanding experts of Transcendent Rank or higher! Fine, why not find Black Sword, knock him unconscious, tie him up, and send him over? Nekla had already sent over many Blood Bottle Gang members he disliked, yet it still wasn't enough, forcing him to humbly beg that big Green Skin for corpses! Which part of him looked like an animal keeper? Did he have to cut it off? Worst of all, there weren't many Vampires, but they had huge tempers and acted imperiously. The way they looked at Nekla made it seem as though he was the puppy!
In this foul mood, Nekla entered Weed Manor with his entourage at nightfall. He casually waved at the Blood Bottle Gang members, whose expressions were just as unpleasant.
He walked up the stone steps of the manor's main building. The distant cries and screams rising faintly from underground made Red Viper's already terrible mood even more irritable.
Forcing himself not to think about the "blood food" in the dungeon—many of whom had once been his colleagues and subordinates—Nekla climbed to the second floor with an iron-gray face. He shoved open the wooden doors of the Main Hall and displeasedly looked at the people before him—or, more precisely, the two people and their food.
A thirty-year-old woman with beautiful features, fair skin, a red ponytail, and a seductive allure wore a noblewoman's riding outfit. She gently pushed away a dazed man.
The alluring woman licked the blood from the corner of her lips, gave Nekla a charming smile, then extended her index finger and wiped the blood that had run from her mouth to her chin.
The man she had pushed aside seemed to be an abducted commoner. His eyes were vacant, his skin pale, and he twitched on the floor as his breathing grew weaker. He clearly wouldn't survive.
At least seven or eight corpses lay throughout the hall, all dead from excessive blood loss. Dried blood covered the floor.
Blood dripped onto the floor and table with a soft, rustling sound, horribly eerie.
Before the tall windows of the hall stood a white-haired old man dressed in equally luxurious clothing, his hands clasped behind his back as though waiting for the moon to rise.
"Oh, my," the woman said gently, her eyes lighting up. "Have you brought us something delicious? Are there twenty people? Anyone of Transcendent Rank? Any virgins? Any children?"
Those damn Vampires!
Had they gone out hunting humans again?
"Miss Rolana! Mr. Chris! I was just about to tell you." Nekla suppressed his displeasure and disgust as he unhappily addressed the two members of the Blood Race. "The twenty corpses delivered this afternoon are already the limit. We don't have that much blood in storage!"
When he mentioned the "blood stores" and recalled the screams from the underground dungeon, even Nekla felt nauseated.
"Oh?" The alluring Rolana giggled. As the corners of her lips curled up, a dangerous light gradually appeared in her eyes. "Can the blood from those corpses be eaten too? What we need is the blood of living people."
"Otherwise, watching your Blood Bottle Gang members come and go, we simply can't help ourselves..." Rolana revealed the fangs beneath her lips and struck a charming pose. Her index finger lightly touched one fang. Under the Eternal Lamp, against the bloody backdrop, it created a strangely ferocious beauty.
"Please understand, esteemed guests. Everstar City is, after all, the Royal Capital. Our abilities are limited..." Nekla held back his anger and lowered his head as he spoke softly.
"Oh, but that young and adorable Duke of Iris didn't say that. He said there would be as many people and as much blood as we wanted! If he learned that his loyal dog was treating guests this way, do you think he might stop giving you bones? Hehe..."
Loyal dog?
Bones?
Damn it!
Hearing the sarcastic humiliation and condescending mockery, recalling the Duke of Iris's attitude after the Blood Bottle Gang's defeat in the battle at Red Quarter, as well as all the grievances he had suffered that day, Nekla felt a fire burning in his heart.
"You damn bitch—there are no living people!"
Ignoring the blood covering the table, Nekla suddenly slammed his palm down and roared in Loss of Control:
"Don't think I don't know! You Vampires can survive on the blood essence of the dead! You don't need the blood of living people! It's not five hundred years ago anymore!"
"I've risked my life to deliver so many living people and corpses, and there was even an expert of Transcendent Rank among them! And you still say it's not enough!"
"Eat if you want, or get lost! I wasn't raised to be frightened! At worst, we'll break ties and fight it out! We'll gather our people and have a proper battle!"
"We're the Blood Bottle Gang of the Starfall Kingdom, where 'blood debts must be repaid'! We're not the Cavendil Family, who 'die for their friends'!"
Silence descended.
Only Red Viper's furious breathing echoed through the hall.
Even the follower behind Nekla was frightened into taking a step back.
In the next moment, Rolana's expression changed. She bared her fangs, her face turning savage. Her seductive, almost coquettish voice became sharp and wild:
"Filthy Short-Lived Species! I was only being polite because of your master!"
"Blood from corpses? You can survive by drinking water and eating vegetables, or by eating carrion. So why do you still eat meat and drink wine?"
"'Risked your life'? That half-dead expert of Transcendent Rank in the dungeon was clearly someone you wanted us to deal with out of personal vengeance!"
"You dare speak of 'blood debts must be repaid' to the Corleone Family? I can make you 'repay your blood debt right now'!"
Nekla's eyes burned with even greater fury. He gritted his teeth and abruptly threw open his scarlet coat, while the ferocious Rolana let out a sharp cry and instantly leaped onto the chandelier overhead, baring her claws like a feline!
At the tense standoff, the old man, who had been gazing out the window all along, finally turned around.
"Rolana, mind your manners."
"Mr. Nekla, there's no need for this. If we fall out, Duke Jenn will be the one caught in an awkward position."
His voice was not loud, but it clearly reached the ears of everyone in the hall.
Chris Corleone—the white-haired old man—suddenly appeared before Nekla.
Before the Blood Bottle Gang's leader could recover, white-haired Chris casually reached out and patted Red Viper on the shoulder.
That single gesture forced down all of Red Viper's pent-up fury.
Rolana landed on the floor and returned to her alluring mature-woman form. She gave a light chuckle, but her eyes remained vicious.
"Sorry. They're still young and don't know when to stop." Chris's eyes were inscrutable, and his wrinkled face was filled with gloom and silence.
Young? Nekla cursed inwardly. Does a monster who's several hundred years old really have the nerve to call themself young?
Even so, he suppressed the anger in his heart.
The situation left him no choice.
Although the old monster before him looked sickly, that move he had just shown... With his own abilities, Nekla was not entirely confident that he could deal with him.
"How about this? You've all worked hard these past few days. From now on, we'll handle our own food."
Just like his lifeless tone, Chris's dead man's eyes remained utterly unmoving.
Handle our own food? With the way these vampires are, if they go out hunting, they'll cause trouble sooner or later! But wouldn't that be exactly what I want?
"Let's go!" Nekla waved angrily. "Withdraw every brother!"
"Oh? Not leaving even one person behind? I was still hoping to apologize properly~" Rolana lay seductively across the blood-red dining table, her tone turning coquettish again.
"No need!" Nekla turned around and snarled. "Wouldn't want Miss Rolana to 'lose control' again!"
The Blood Bottle Gang's enforcers followed Nekla down the stone steps. Not one of them felt any regret about leaving that disgusting estate.
For a while, the only sounds in the hall were Rolana's eerie laughter and the dripping of blood.
Nekla had gone far away.
Rolana suddenly dropped from the table, her face full of frost and murderous intent.
"Did he discover something?"
Chris shook his dead-looking head. From a distance, it looked like a white chess piece had shifted slightly. "That man didn't. But Cavendil must have sensed something amiss. After all, such a huge demand for blood is already enough to sustain a whole guard of Blood Race knights."
Rolana lowered her head. "But it's still far from enough—and we wasted another one just now for the act. I'll go hunting again later."
"Fortunately, we drove the Blood Bottle Gang away according to plan. This will buy us some time before we're exposed."
Chris's head suddenly twisted backward at an eerie angle of one hundred degrees, turning toward the window. His nose twitched.
"Istrone is back."
"And he brought someone with him—ah, that scent is wonderful. It's blood of superior quality or higher."
His figure reappeared before the window.
The moon came out.
Nekla led the members of the Blood Bottle Gang angrily out of the estate.
Those damn vampires—huh? That pretty-boy vampire is back. Wasn't he at Mindis Hall with those squads of Mercenaries this afternoon, searching for the secret treasure?
So they walk on their legs too? And use the front door?
Nekla had thought the Blood Race traveled the way he had seen before, turning into a puddle of blood and then going "whoosh" here and "whoosh" there.
That pretty boy even brought a little one? Damn, did he go hunting too? Judging by the clothes, the kid looks like he's from some noble family, but he's covered in wounds—no, wait. The child doesn't look like he's being held hostage. The way they're walking, they look more like they're on the same side.
Right, I should ask about the Mindis Hall theft.
While Nekla was still considering this, Istrone and Tales entered the estate side by side.
Tales spotted the group from the Blood Bottle Gang coming out from afar.
Thinking of the Iris Flower banner above, he silently cried out in alarm.
But he also knew that he had to remain calm at that moment if he wanted to find a way to survive in this narrow passage.
Istrone, however, kept his eyes straight ahead, as if he did not even regard the Blood Bottle Gang beside him.
Nekla waved, and the Blood Bottle Gang stopped where they were, waiting for Istrone to come over.
But the handsome blond member of the Blood Race merely snorted through his nose and turned his head aside. He walked past Red Viper without the slightest intention of speaking.
The blond member of the Blood Race then unhappily discovered that the human cub beside him, who did not even reach his waist, also strode forward with his head held high. The boy gave a "hmph," turned his head aside in sync with him, and walked past Nekla with his nostrils pointing skyward!
What is this? Relying on someone's power to act arrogant?
Istrone decided that once they returned, he would teach this imp who loved pretending not to know anything a proper lesson.
Only Tales knew that at that very moment, he was forcing down his pounding heartbeat and pretending to be calm!
Nekla's fury surged once more.
"Hey! Pretty boy!" Red Viper blocked Istrone's path in annoyance.
"Did you finish the task Duke gave you?" Nekla stared unpleasantly at the handsome member of the Blood Race before him.
Duke?
Tales secretly groaned.
Istrone raised his eyes and looked with disgust at the human blocking his way.
"The stolen treasures from Mindis Hall! Remember? You even took four squads of Mercenaries with you!" Feeling Istrone's gaze, Nekla reached the peak of his anger. He walked right up to Istrone's face and shouted without the slightest courtesy,
"You must have gained something, right, pretty boy?"
Pretty boy?
Damn Short-Lived Species— Irritation welled up in Istrone's heart. His original plan had been to lure those twenty Mercenaries out, hunt them down one by one, and bring their high-quality blood back to the estate.
Who could have expected them all to fall into the hands of the Masked Weirdo inside Mindis Hall?
But as for the Mindis Hall theft—after all, it was a request from that Tricolor Iris duke.
He still had to say something about it.
Istrone turned his head toward Tales.
No one knew that Tales's heart was as cold as ice and snow at that moment!
What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
Calm down! the boy told himself. I have to save myself.
His mind spun furiously as pieces of information and clues flashed back and rapidly rearranged themselves!
Istrone lowered his head and looked at the little cub, wondering how to respond to Nekla without losing face in front of that damned Short-Lived Species.
Nekla unhappily watched Istrone's arrogant head. Following the direction of his gaze, he turned toward the little boy beside him.
"Hey, kid..." Istrone said indifferently.
Everyone turned to look at Tales!
At that moment, Tales drew a deep breath.
According to what that chuunibyou said, I'm a man who's going to change the world.
How can I die here?
Then.
Then everyone present saw the seven- or eight-year-old boy's expression turn cold. Before Istrone could say his next words, he shouted,
"Yes, sir!"
Istrone froze for a moment. Why has this brat become so respectful all of a sudden?
But before he could react, the situation before him changed again.
Without hesitation, Tales took a step forward. Like a loyal guard, he positioned himself between Istrone and Nekla.
Then, beneath the bright moonlight...
Everyone heard that irritating little boy address the current leader of the Blood Bottle Gang, the foremost of the eight Psychic Warriors, Red Viper Nekla. In his childish voice and with an arrogant tone that looked down on everything, he shouted in utter disgust:
"Get lost! You lowly Short-Lived Species!"
"The noble Lord Istrone Corleon has no need for a despicable mongrel like you to meddle in his affairs!"
Eight thousand words in a major chapter. There was no good place to stop, so I decided not to stop and posted the whole thing!
P.S. I made a Qidian alt account called "The Strong Prevail" (CM said the name was way too chuunibyou ORZ). From now on, I'll use this account to chat with everyone on Qidian. Comments are welcome! Whether it's thunder and rain or bricks and flowers, I'll accept them all!