When the Funeral Bell Tollled, the Blades Were Drawn-Hear My Call, Devils of Another World! Testing Time!

The sunlight during the day was always irritating. Vampires easily grew tired when exposed to so much light, and as the sun reached its blazing midday peak, Murphy had already retreated indoors and fallen into a light sleep.

"Ding-dong."

A notification from the forum startled Murphy awake from his half-asleep state. He glanced at it and saw that a new message had appeared in the applications section.

The new testing application link had barely gone up, and applicants were already lining up?

How eager could they be?

Murphy opened the application. The applicant's ID was "Chen Dian Niu Niu Not Afraid of Difficulty," with "college athlete" written beside it. Murphy couldn't help laughing.

At a glance, it was obvious that A-Cha'en, one of the Dormitory Six Bros, had brought along one of his buddies. That guy was efficient, all right. Just what you'd expect from a model student.

He looked over the applicant's questionnaire answers and made a preliminary judgment: like the Dormitory Six Bros, this was an innocent college student with little experience of the wider world. He approved the application.

Murphy, an old hand at this sort of thing, liked innocent young people. They were so easy to coax into doing what he wanted.

There was other information in the applications section, though. The bizarre IDs opened Murphy's eyes and reminded him just how strange and uneven the world could be. Just look at the names these idiot netizens had come up with.

Black Silk Under Keyboard was still relatively normal. The other few were almost too much for Murphy to look at.

Duo Dao Le San Wu Dou, First Day of Abstinence, Electronic Succubus Lao Qu.

They were all going for maximum absurdity.

Way too absurd!

All of them had listed Meow Brother's ID in the "referrer" field at the end of their application questionnaires. Most likely, he knew them in real life.

No wonder that flirtatious foot-washing enthusiast was so good at socializing. Murphy was now genuinely curious about the makeup of Meow Brother's friend group.

But in all honesty, their questionnaire results were excellent. They had plenty of gaming experience, loved role-playing, enjoyed a challenge, and were law-abiding citizens. They sounded like the perfect little players in Murphy's eyes. As if!

With results this consistent, they had obviously filled out the questionnaires under Meow Brother's "careful guidance," hadn't they?

Murphy was tempted to hold them back.

But then he remembered that he had absolute control over the players' accounts and could ban them and kick them out whenever he wanted. Besides, he was in desperate need of recruits, so he could afford to loosen the screening criteria a little.

If it turned out that these guys weren't suitable, he could always put them in the "cannon fodder group" and send them on the most dangerous missions.

A terrible gaming experience would always drive away the unsuitable ones.

He just had no idea how he would retrieve those mysterious game helmets if a player got banned. Would they spin around 360 degrees on the spot and self-destruct?

Emmm, they probably wouldn't explode, right?

Murphy pursed his lips and approved all four applications. That brought the number of people available to him up to twelve. Add himself and his "temporary assistant," Mirian, and they had fourteen people.

That was enough to fight a battle!

That is, as long as the Witch Hunters didn't "spawn" right in front of him this very moment.

Based on what Murphy had furtively gleaned from the player group, it took time for the helmets to be delivered after an application was approved. They were all being sent through the fastest local shipping services, but on average, delivery took around six to twelve hours.

Maxim had set out over two hours ago. After accounting for the detour and the fact that vampires couldn't travel quickly in large numbers under the sun, Murphy reached a conclusion.

If all went well, the reinforcements would arrive sometime this evening at the earliest. In other words, in the best-case scenario, he just needed to make it through the rest of the day and everything would be fine.

As for whether the vampires would abandon him, the sacrificial pawn?

Murphy wasn't worried about that at all.

He had prepared a backup plan before Maxim left. As long as that loyal blood servant survived long enough to deliver the letter, the Midnight Hunters would definitely come to his rescue!

"I've done what you asked and spread out all the usable weapons and armor among the intact houses by the village entrance. Is there anything else you need me to do?"

Mirian came in wearing an old leather cuirass and carrying a Witch Hunter crossbow on her back. She stood in the doorway and asked Murphy, her tone less than friendly.

Murphy didn't mind. He said:

"If the Witch Hunters come during the day, I won't be able to fight in the sunlight. So I need you to act as bait."

"You want me to go and die?"

Mirian's expression changed, and she clenched her fists. But Murphy shook his head.

"No, I just need you to draw their attention and create an opportunity for my summoned creatures to ambush them and take them out in smaller groups. Like how you lured that Witch Hunter into the cellar and killed him. You should be familiar with the approach.

Don't be afraid, Mirian.

I'm their primary target. You'll be completely safe until I'm dead."

"If that's all, then I'm willing to help."

Mirian let out a long breath.

She didn't feel particularly attached to her family, but this was still the place where she'd been born and raised. Seeing her hometown burned to the ground by those mad Witch Hunters, and nearly being violated herself, had left her furious.

The Transian region was superstitious and isolated, but its harsh environment had made the people of Transia a tough bunch. Even the women had fiery tempers.

Mirian was also a scholar-in-training with a wealth of knowledge!

That made her both tough and clever—the hardest kind of Transian to deal with.

Seeing that Mirian was willing to help, Murphy immediately told her his plan. When he was done, he looked her up and down before adding:

"Lastly, I need your blood."

"I knew it!"

The wary Mirian immediately took a step back, drew the crossbow from her back, and aimed it at Murphy.

"I shouldn't have trusted you! You damn vampire! You dogs would sell anything for a little blood!"

"Don't get worked up. Hear me out."

Murphy waved a hand and held up his fingers in a "tiny" gesture.

"I only need a little, just enough to wake me up and stimulate the recovery of the psionic energy in my body. A single bottle will do. Miss Mirian, you wouldn't want to watch me die right in front of you, then get burned alive by the Witch Hunters, would you?

Look, I'm negotiating with you right now.

But I don't actually have to negotiate."

The poor souls of Morland Village had never provoked anyone, yet war and destruction had fallen upon them for no reason at all. The village's very geography had been erased by last night's fire. All that remained was a corpse waiting to rot and be forgotten, attracting vultures that came in search of carrion.

It was dusk, that moment when day and night changed places. On the path outside the ruins, a Witch Hunter squad rode swiftly toward the village on horseback, keeping their guard up.

The hunters among them who were gifted in psionics kept scattering some kind of powder to ward off any enemies who might try to detect them with psionic energy.

Such a simple trick was nothing in front of a true psion, but it was the most effective counter-surveillance method the Witch Hunters could manage now that they had lost the support of their organization.

"The last traces of Malus's squad are right there."

A veteran on horseback lowered the rust-speckled Model 675 Monocular Telescope in his hand.

The halflings had designed and built the thing for the Avalon Church's warriors during the Unification War on Greeny Island in the year 675. It had been over four hundred years, but classic designs never went out of style.

Unfortunately, the Avalon Church of old was now something people wouldn't even name aloud. They simply called it the Old Church. And there was a reason it had been forgotten.

The veteran straightened in his saddle, took the crossbow hanging at his waist, and cocked it. Then he quietly spoke to the companion beside him, who wore a hood like the rest of the rough-looking men but was clearly a woman, with a heavy leather pack strapped to her back.

"They haven't reported back in over eight hours, so it looks like they've gone down. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Malus himself burned this village to the ground."

The female Witch Hunter leading the squad didn't answer. Another hunter behind her, an old man with one arm, said coldly:

"Who else could it have been?

Of the ten squads hunting in the area around Cadman City, they were the craziest and most depraved. Losing their faith in Avalon had let evil consume their souls.

The innocent people who died at the hands of those degenerates have already become too many to—"

"Shut up, Porter!"

The veteran with the crossbow frowned and snapped:

"Those are our orders. No more talk! And stop invoking Avalon's name, too. The Tower of Rings' lackeys might hear you."

"Do you think I'm afraid of them?"

The one-armed veteran bared his teeth. Years of hunting had made him short-tempered, and he snapped back like an aggressive hound:

"I could take down ten of those incompetent psionic hunters by myself! Hmph, they're just knockoffs trained to imitate us."

"And then ten psions would rip you apart into scraps not even a dog would eat. Don't provoke the Tower of Rings. They're our 'masters' now. Thanks to their protection, we've managed to survive these last ten years."

At last, the woman leading the squad spoke.

Her voice was cold and hoarse, with a hint of exhaustion she couldn't quite hide. She raised her left hand and gave a slight wave. The remaining seven members of the squad immediately spread out into an assault formation.

The huntress captain gripped the hunting sword at her waist, its hilt inlaid with unusual oak, and spoke to the two squad leaders on either side of her:

"Whatever Malus did to this village, it's clear he fought here with the wanted vampire courier.

"I believe in Malus and his team's fighting ability. Even if that vampire courier isn't dead, he must be badly wounded. We have to get the letter he's carrying!

"At any cost.

"Norman, what are the other squads nearby doing?"

"We contacted them with a falcon at noon. All squads except ours are retreating to the border. This round of tactical interdiction has achieved its goal."

The veteran at the head of the squad slotted his crossbow into his belt and surveyed the silent village. He could even see the toppled carriage by the entrance and the corpse of the blood thrall inside.

He replied to the huntress:

"After we've collected the vampire courier's body, we'll be leaving Transia too. Maybe we'll never come back. I hate this place. I hope this is our last mission here.

"But something about this village feels wrong."

"It's dusk. Even if that vampire is still hiding here, he wouldn't dare jump out and confront us now. It'll be dark in two hours, and I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't want to hunt a vampire that can kill crazy Malus at night.

"I say we move now."

The one-armed hunter sneered and offered his opinion, then looked to the huntress. After a moment's hesitation, she gave a signal.

"Second squad, stay outside the village and keep watch. First squad, come in with me."

At the order, the squad members who had been worked up moments ago immediately fell silent.

The one-armed hunter strapped a mechanical, articulated blade to his stump. He flexed the rough, bloodstained three-pronged blade at his fingertips, then dismounted and followed the hunting captain into the village with his three squadmates.

But the smell from the bodies, burned by the fire and then left under the sun for a day, made even these hunters—who had seen real hell on earth—turn pale.

This wasn't the aftermath of a battle. This was a one-sided slaughter and torture!

"Malus should be grateful he's dead!"

The one-armed veteran spat and said coldly:

"If he were still alive, I'd strangle him with my own hands. The warband commander has forbidden this kind of thing again and again."

"But I heard the Tower of Rings' psions are unhappy with the commander's weak leadership in enemy territory. Those cold-blooded bastards clearly prefer a madman like Malus, someone with no restraints."

The squad's psionically gifted hunter muttered under her breath.

Unable to bear looking at the scene, she went ahead and took out a special vial, smashing it against the ground.

Green motes mixed with the psionic energy in the air, forming a gust of wind that swept through the village and eased the awful stench a little.

"By Avalon, when will this slaughterhouse finally end?"

The scout muttered. While the other three kept watch, she returned her crossbow to her belt and crouched on the ground. Placing all five fingers against the earth, she used her mediocre psionic abilities. In the next instant, as green motes danced around her, her senses spread like radar, carried by the ground beneath her feet.

As she expanded her search through the village ruins, she spoke to the captain beside her, who stood guard with her sword in hand:

"There are no living people in the village. Malus's body is in the cellar at the back. He blew his head apart with his own bullet, and he wasn't even wearing trousers. Heh, I can guess what he was doing before he died. What a disgusting beast.

"Hmm?

"Wait!

"There's someone alive!

"In the house at the far end of the village, on the left!

"An ordinary person, a young woman. She's injured and bleeding!

"She's very weak. No threat."

The huntress gripping her hunting sword nodded and pointed forward.

The veteran with the mechanical claw and a middle-aged man holding a shotgun immediately moved in a two-person formation toward the location the scout had indicated. The other two stayed where they were, continuing to search and keep watch.

None of it escaped Murphy's notice.

The vampire was hiding in the shadow beneath the water tower at the highest point on the other side of the village, carefully watching this group of dangerous-looking people.

He drew his head in a little, confirmed that the enemy had split into three groups, then opened the forum and brought up the group chat:

Alpha: @everyone, get ready to log in! Testing time!