Everyone froze, unable to react.
"You—" Nekla was still in shock when he realized Tales was shouting at him.
Wild—wild dog?
The Red Viper's expression shifted from confusion to surprise, then finally to embarrassment and fury.
"What did you say—damn little bastard!"
One Blood Bottle Gang member nudged his colleague and made a "this is bad" face.
The handsome Istrone finally reacted, and his expression became wonderfully vivid. Twitches and tremors flew together, while awkwardness and embarrassment shared the same hue.
This brat is quite the actor—is he some star from a Midnight Temple play?
Nekla clenched his fists. He sensed his subordinates exchanging glances—their leader had been humiliated to his face by a Vampire, using a child!
That bastard!
How—how dare he? Even the Blood Elementalist, notorious for her cruelty and brutality, had never humiliated him so openly!
Fury spread through Nekla's mind. He glared viciously at Istrone, as if he wanted to gouge a chunk of flesh from his face!
In Nekla's eyes, he had merely been fulfilling his duty, asking about the mission's progress on behalf of the Duke.
Yet what had that pretty boy done?
That damn Vampire had turned around, called out, and gestured to his little lackey.
Then that little bastard had stepped forward knowingly.
With that punchable expression, he had told Nekla to "get lost, you lowly stray dog"?
And after hearing the little bastard's words, the Vampire's expression had been nothing short of a delighted sneer.
He was enjoying the pleasure of humiliating him!
Threatened by Green Skin, rejected by the Tricolor Iris, forced around by that damn Vampire, and then insulted by this little bastard—
As Tales watched the Blood Bottle Gang boss's expression gradually change, he was still considering whether to add a little more fuel to the fire when his vision suddenly blurred!
The Red Viper had already seized him by the neck with lightning speed and lifted him off the ground with one hand!
Tales immediately found it difficult to breathe.
This was not the first time someone had choked him!
His face flushed as Tales, just as before, reached up and clawed at the right hand around his neck. This time, however, all he felt was skin as hard as steel!
The Red Viper's weathered stubble loomed before his eyes, while his savage expression trembled with every movement of his mouth.
The Red Viper fixed his gaze on the Vampire opposite him.
"Pretty boy! Your little pet—"
Before he could finish, a hand blade abruptly appeared before his eyes!
Nekla had no choice but to release Tales and retreat instantly!
"Boom!"
The two men came to a standstill.
With a dark expression, Nekla caught Istrone's lightning-fast hand blade as it struck at the side of his head!
"Since you know he's my pet, don't touch him carelessly," the blond Istrone said in disgust. "Short-Lived Species!"
Tales fell from midair and landed on the floor, instinctively(?) beginning to cough.
He secretly swore never to let anyone choke him again.
It was far too painful.
The surrounding Blood Bottle Gang members tensed. Many of them ominously placed their hands on the weapons at their waists!
"Pretty boy." Nekla was expressionless now, but Tales could still sense his dark mood slowly rising. The Red Viper released his grip on the Blood Race and spoke slowly, one word at a time:
"Try calling me that again."
This Short-Lived Species isn't fast, but his combat instincts and experience aren't bad. He actually caught my right hand.
I'll have to be careful against someone like this. Even if I can suppress him with speed, I can't afford to be careless. Who would have thought he was already a master approaching the Extreme Realm? Istrone's heart sank as he considered how to make his next move.
"What's with that displeased expression?" Istrone's gaze sharpened. "Was I wrong? You—"
The next second, the blond noble suddenly roared:
"—Short-Lived Species!"
Before the words had even faded,
Nekla's fist and Istrone's palm met in midair.
In Tales's eyes, the instant fist and palm collided, the world seemed to freeze.
But the next moment, sound and air seemed to ripple visibly at the same time.
"Bang!"
When time seemed to start moving again, the violent wind raised by their exchange suddenly struck. It swept across Tales's face and forced him to shut his eyes!
"Boom! Bang!"
Two more gusts swept past. Eyes closed, Tales rolled and shifted several meters backward, barely avoiding the forceful winds around Istrone and Nekla!
"You're only this fast?" The blond Blood Race laughed eerily before flashing forward again!
Knowing he was not fast enough, Nekla gritted his teeth and threw his next punch!
Istrone's figure flickered like a ghost, shifting from one frozen position to the next.
Nekla, meanwhile, moved like a continuous mechanical wheel spinning at high speed, his attacks growing increasingly fierce.
Both men wore feverish expressions as they exchanged six strikes in an instant!
The forceful winds from their fists and palms forced the surrounding Blood Bottle Gang members to raise their arms for cover, leaving them unable to interfere!
Tales remembered Yala and Rolf fighting while moving at their limits. But that had been a contest of speed and agility. The two opponents before him were engaged in a battle of explosive power and strength.
Istrone's figure flashed backward one step, while Nekla dragged his left foot back one step. They glared fiercely at each other.
Something's wrong! Why are this gang's Short-Lived Species's movements getting faster and faster? In the end, he actually kept up with me? This was Istrone, frowning.
Hmph! This Vampire is slippery indeed. I'll put you down with my next move! This was Nekla, his face twisted viciously.
Both sides looked solemn now, having sensed their opponent's tenacity and difficulty.
The next exchange came without warning.
"Vampire!"
Nekla roared. His red coat slipped from his shoulders and fell to the ground. His body rotated smoothly, the veins in his right arm bulging as he drove a right punch toward the Blood Race's chest with astonishing force and speed.
"Short-Lived Species."
Istrone spat disdainfully. His fangs extended, blood mist rose around him, and his figure flickered between reality and illusion. The fingers of his right hand formed visible claws. He spread his palm wide, tore through the air, and reached for Nekla's throat.
Tales's heart tightened. Following the example of the surrounding Blood Bottle Gang members, he hurriedly raised both arms in front of himself, preparing to withstand the next exchange of forceful winds—which might also be the most powerful one yet.
The two fully charged attacks crossed in midair!
Tales squeezed his eyes shut.
Yet the expected gust and thunderous crash never came!
"Now that you've both exchanged greetings," an aged voice drifted over, "you may as well disperse."
Tales slowly opened his eyes.
Istrone's claws and Nekla's heavy fist had both been caught firmly in the hands of an elderly nobleman who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room, his face deathly pale and gloomy.
The force and momentum from before seemed to have vanished soundlessly into the old man's palms.
That's not right. Even if he blocked their collision, there should have been some recoil and inertia, shouldn't there? How could power of that level vanish without a sound? Tales thought in shock.
The old man turned his head from side to side, looking at the two men. Istrone's expression showed unwillingness, while Nekla's held both wariness and astonishment.
The Extreme Realm, the Red Viper repeated inwardly, and a master among those in the Extreme Realm! This is the strength possessed by a Bloodline Count—or even a Marquis-level member of the Blood Race! There are not many such people even among the "Upper Six Branches" of the Blood Race in Feast Territory!
The old man revealed an unpleasant smile and instantly released their hands. Without needing to be told, the two fighters both retreated a step.
"Mr. Nekla, there's no need to quarrel with the young. Please leave now." His dry lips moved up and down like a puppet's.
Nekla glanced at his surrounding subordinates and saw fear and tension covering their faces.
Damn it. Today has been nothing but bad luck.
He understood now. Nothing would go smoothly for the Blood Bottle Gang as long as the Blood Elementalist did not return.
It seemed he would have to go personally to Steel City and bring her back at any cost.
Nekla gave a harsh "hmph," looked at the old man, then at Istrone, who was still provoking him with his eyes, and spoke through clenched teeth:
"Fine, fine, fine."
"I hope the Duke and his Termination Knights are as good-natured as I am."
The flush on Nekla's face had yet to fade, but he said nothing more. With a fierce wave of his hand, he led the others away.
"Little bastard, when they drain every drop of blood from your body—"
As he left the estate, Nekla looked back viciously at Tales. His voice dripped with malice. "Don't scream too loudly."
He took the coat one of his men handed him and casually draped it over his shoulders. The members of the Blood Bottle Gang then left the estate.
Tales silently let out a breath in his heart.
He had gotten through it.
He had gotten through what happened at Mindis Hall.
He was temporarily safe.
But the strange old man's next words made his sinking heart rise again!
"So, little friend... I'm guessing you're connected to their mission at Mindis Hall... am I right?"
Chris Corleone turned his head like a puppet, bared his wrinkled lips in a smile, and said, "The Tricolor Iris and the Blood Bottle Gang both seem very interested in you?"
"So you're saying that, on the second day after bringing him here, you—the Attendant Officer most trusted by His Majesty the King, the Former Foreign Minister, the driving force behind and signatory of the 'Fortress Concord,' Count Gilbert Casso—and you, His Majesty's most reliable secret guard, the 'Nameless One' Yordel Gato, whose background even I don't know—"
A mature female voice rang out from the roof of Mindis Hall after sunset:
"—just went and lost His Majesty's only child and heir!"
Before this mature, dignified, black-haired beauty in the standard blue-and-cyan uniform of a forty-year-old Female Official, Gilbert and Yordel both lowered their heads slightly.
Gilbert had been prepared for her arrival, but he had never expected to meet her under these circumstances.
Just thinking about her special and awkward position gave Gilbert a headache.
Yordel beside him was probably feeling the same.
"Yes, Lady Jinnie," Gilbert said quietly, his voice full of hatred and regret.
Yordel said nothing, but the fist of his left hand slowly tightened.
"You searched the surrounding area for an hour and found no clues?"
"Yes, Lady Jinnie," Gilbert said shamefully.
The gears on Yordel's mask turned once.
"And then, our only hope—" Lady Jinnie pointed at the lamp in her hand and said slowly, her tone filled with sarcasm and anger, "—is this broken lamp and the tiny flame in Yordel's arms?"
"Yes, Lady Jinnie." Poor Gilbert gave the same answer yet again.
Jinnie said nothing more. She stared at them with displeasure for a long, long time.
Gilbert's heart sank deeper and deeper.
After a long while, Jinnie finally snorted through her nose:
"Hmph."
She closed her eyes and slowly said:
"His Majesty's forty-eighth birthday is approaching. I'm certain the Six Great Houses are operating at full force. They want to pressure His Majesty into appointing a Crown Prince from among the nobility, whether through adoption or formal succession."
"And that child is our only hope in the darkness."
Jinnie drew a deep breath, opened her eyes, and enunciated every word:
"And you lost him!"
Gilbert and Yordel lowered their heads even further.
"Men really can't be relied upon."
Jinnie placed the Bloodline Lamp on the roof and exhaled disdainfully. "Come on. Mobilize everyone. We'll begin searching at the place where the child disappeared!"
"Even if that child really is as clever as you said, we can't simply wait around for that lamp. That would only prove our incompetence and cowardice!"
Under the night sky, the seductive, mature Female Official abruptly turned around and roared angrily in the tone of someone reprimanding her subordinates:
"What are you standing around for!"
Only then did Gilbert and Yordel seem to awaken. They broke free of their statue-like stupor and stepped forward.
"You two useless men had better put some effort into this!"
Istrone made Tales sit in a chair in the estate's inner hall.
Tales swallowed hard, shifted his bottom slightly to the side, and moved away from a patch of sticky red liquid.
If one ignored the dried corpses scattered throughout the hall, the bloodstains—both wet and dry—on the dining table and floor, and the three people before him who were obviously not normal, this place was actually quite pleasant.
The boy looked at the man, woman, and old man before him and awkwardly gave them a friendly, toothy smile.
"He really is a superior blood source! What an aroma. My goodness, Istrone, it seems Cousin underestimated you before—I thought you had merely gone out for a walk with those humans."
The sexy woman with the red ponytail bent over and excitedly examined Tales from head to toe, her eyes shining.
Tales only opened his mouth and smiled foolishly.
His instincts told him that, apart from showing friendliness and cooperation, any action he took now would be inappropriate.
He had also considered secretly cutting himself.
But he was certain that these three creatures had a sense of smell for blood sharper than even Morris's Rage Wolf Dog.
Hearing his cousin's words, Istrone's heart clenched. Fortunately, as a member of the Blood Race, he could not blush. Even so, he hesitantly reached out and pulled Rolana back a little, since she was practically drooling onto Tales.
In his heart, he had raised the level of suspicion and danger surrounding the brat to the same level as the Mermaids of Crystal Wall City and the priests of the Sunbreak Sanctuary.
"Rolana, be careful. There's something wrong with this youngling. It's best not to talk to him too much. If you ask me, just connect him to a blood-drawing device and an infusion tube, then lock him in a coffin." The blond Blood Race spoke awkwardly.
"The target specifically sought by the Duke of Iris lives in a heavily guarded royal property, orders a First-Class Blood Knight of the Corleone Family around at will, and does so without him even realizing it." The deathly pale old man spoke quietly, while Istrone turned his face away awkwardly. "Of course there's something wrong with this youngling! At the very least, we need to dig the secrets we're supposed to know out of him."
"I'm good at that." Rolana leaned over the dining table on Tales's left and licked her lips at him. "A small cut on the wrist, hang him upside down, and interrogate him while satisfying your hunger. Not a single drop will be wasted. I heard that's how the Loriroya Family does things."
Istrone hesitated. Butler Chris had left an indelible shadow over his upbringing, while the old man's merciless reprimand just now had severely damaged his confidence. Even so, Istrone muttered, "I still think we should just kill him. Given our current situation, I have a feeling this brat will bring us trouble—"
"Shut up, you fool!" The old man Chris rudely cut Istrone off.
If not for his personality, how could this young man, despite his skills, still be nothing more than a bloodline knight of the Corleone Family after three hundred years? Someone clever, like Rolana, would have long since become a bloodline baron!
Under the old man's imposing authority, the blond nobleman took a fearful step back.
But it was already too late.
Tales's heart stirred.
"With our situation as it is now"—Tales sharply seized upon that information.
So their situation wasn't very good?
First, if they were Mercenary or allies of that great nobleman, the "Duke," then after completing the mission, wouldn't the employer at least provide their commission and payment? How could things be "not very good"?
Second, their failure to hand themselves over to the Blood Bottle Gang immediately could be explained as their competing with the Blood Bottle Gang for credit before their mutual "Duke."
But judging from Istrone's words, they did not even intend to hand themselves over to the "Duke"!
So they intended to force the secret out of me? Keep it for themselves?
That left only a few possible explanations.
They were not Mercenary or allies of the "Duke," but an independent force!
This might be where his chance of survival lay.
After scolding Istrone, the old man said nothing. He merely stared fixedly at Tales, placing immense psychological pressure on him.
The boy knew he could not remain silent any longer.
Since things have come to this, I'll follow my earlier reasoning and give it a try.
"I say," Tales chuckled, "perhaps we can sit down and talk?"
"Then we can exchange information. Maybe we'll happen to discover that we're actually allies?"
Chris's expression grew even gloomier. His eyes flickered like dropped frames, and then he abruptly appeared barely an inch in front of Tales!
He had not even stirred the wind.
Tales's heart thundered.
Just pretend you're watching a horror movie.
One in 4D, at that.
"That's a good suggestion, young sir. Let's exchange information," Chris said, once again revealing an ugly smile.
His form of address reminded Tales of Gilbert, while his words made Tales relax slightly.
Until the old man continued:
"And our information is this: your life is in our hands."
Tales let out a long sigh inwardly.
What rotten luck. I had to run into someone who doesn't play by the rules.
Chris's ominously dead gaze slowly lifted.
"Then may I ask, what is your information?"
Just as Tales frantically pondered his next move, a sudden change occurred.
"Thud, thud!"
A dull, heavy pounding suddenly came from the top of the hall!
The expressions of all three members of the Blood Race changed at once! Even the old man Chris was no exception!
"Thud, thud! Thud!"
Another series of dull, muffled impacts came from the ceiling!
The three members of the Blood Race exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with both surprise and excitement.
It was as if something they had been anticipating for a long time had finally happened.
Tales saw all of this.
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