Red eyes looked better.
Based on what I'd seen so far, that one sentence from the Blood Clan Progenitor, Annalise, had very likely been the catalyst for the birth of this race.
And as such a classic concept, the Blood Clan's long lifespans and emphasis on bloodlines undoubtedly gave them the value of living fossils.
The succession of bloodlines and the transmission of the supernatural could serve as samples for studying all kinds of patterns.
By comparison, the Chen Clan, who had probably once been caught with their guard down, had far too many confounding factors.
Of course, most important of all was the relationship between the Blood Clan and the moon.
I'd once tried to use the Lunar Annals to define the entire history of the supernatural, never realizing that the history was also a thousand years of solitude for a single race.
Fu Qian didn't hurry inside. Instead, he surveyed the surroundings, cultivating a sense of immersion by drawing on the history and culture.
The courtyard was a familiar sight, and even quieter than he remembered. The restless young man had yet to come bursting out again. The lifeless air rivaled that of a haunted house.
Wasn't this a bit much?
To be fair, Brother Taylor's recent string of antics had certainly put the family elders' blood pressure to the test.
First he'd been confined to the house, and then they'd even stopped letting him sleep.
But Shangjing had been peaceful for several days now, and Selena, the stricter elder, had gone out to take care of business. Was there really any need to make the young man suffer so terribly?
Or was he simply not here, having already been taken to Grantham to be personally disciplined?
After clicking his tongue in admiration and working up his emotions,