Transaction

Inside an abandoned factory somewhere in New York, a man dressed in a white suit and a cape, red on the inside and black on the outside, sat behind a table. He was bizarrely attired, enjoying some Red Berg beer with dried neon squid, seemingly waiting for someone.

It was evening, and this area was filled with abandoned factories. The electrical and lighting systems had long since failed for various reasons, shrouding everything inside the plant in shadow. Only a few spots received sunlight filtering through the windows.

Before long, just as the last sliver of the sun's afterglow vanished below the horizon, a group of bodyguards, clearly elites, formed a human wall, escorting a middle-aged man in a suit as they entered.

"Mr. Bill, welcome. And Mr. Victor." Seeing the newcomers, the man in the cape raised his beer in a toast before continuing to drink.

The middle-aged man, addressed as Bill, waved his hand. The bodyguards surrounding him quickly dispersed, systematically using tactical flashlights to inspect the factory and securing key corners.

After their negotiations broke down, they could ensure Mr. Bill's immediate escape under their protection and his boarding of the bulletproof car waiting at the entrance.

Mr. Bill walked directly to the cape-wearing man's side, placed the briefcase handcuffed to his wrist on the table, and asked, "Where is the thing we agreed upon?"

Compared to the man drinking, the difference was stark. Mr. Bill's hair was meticulously styled with wax, and his suit had not a single wrinkle, clearly a high-end custom piece that accentuated his sharp figure. He was undeniably a successful individual from the elite class.

The latter's aura was significantly diminished by the beer in his hand and his mismatched cape. Not to mention his white suit was crumpled and obviously cheap, and his black hair was disheveled, making him look more like a madman than an important figure worthy of Mr. Bill's personal attention.

The cape-wearing man chuckled, "It's been here all along."

Mr. Bill nodded, entered the password, and opened the case, turning its front towards the cape-wearing man.

The briefcase didn't contain anything valuable, just a tablet computer and its connected external devices. However, in an era where Wi-Fi had not yet been widely adopted due to patent issues, this tablet, using some unknown technology, had a full signal and could even make video calls.

On the screen was a slightly aged face. It was an old man exuding an aristocratic aura, his skin as pale as if it had never seen sunlight. His eyes were a deep blue, with a hint of coldness.

"Doctor Death," Victor's voice came from the speaker. Contrary to his elegant appearance, his tone held a hint of impatience. "You said you have something crucial to the Blood Clan. I am very willing to exchange—if it truly holds that value, I can offer an oil field as compensation."

The so-called Blood Clan was the vampires' self-appellation. Victor, communicating with Doctor Death via the tablet, was a Pureblood Vampire, second only to the Thirteen Pureblood Elders in status within vampire society.

But being second meant still being subordinate. Under the pressure of power, Victor had always been frustrated and unfulfilled.

Vampires were immortal. The saying "How can a prince rule for sixty years?" was a joke among vampires. Those in power within the clan were always the strongest Pureblood Vampires. The stronger a vampire, the longer its lifespan, and over vast stretches of time, they even discovered methods of extending life unknown to other vampires, thus maintaining their grip on power.

Vampires like Victor, who craved power, could only obey and never get ahead. Resentful, he yearned for power and a way to overthrow the Thirteen Elders. Then, Doctor Death, claiming to be from Shuka, approached him, saying he possessed something that could change the vampire world's landscape.

In Victor's memory, only one thing could achieve what Doctor Death described: the Book of the Blood God, written by Blood God Madola. It recorded magic usable only by the Blood Clan and methods for their self-evolution. Obtaining it, Victor could soar to unprecedented heights and crush the Thirteen Elders under his heel.

The Book of the Blood God had always been in the possession of the Blood Clan. However, the whereabouts of such a precious item were known only to a select few. Victor had mistakenly believed it was lost and acquired by Doctor Death, a fortunate misunderstanding.

Unable to wait, Victor dispatched his human subordinates. After negotiating with Doctor Death, they chose this location for their meeting. As for the price required to exchange for the Book of the Blood God, Victor didn't care.

Immortals held a significant advantage over humans with an average lifespan of less than a hundred years. Their long lives allowed their collections to become antiques and appreciate in value, and their land holdings became astronomically expensive with economic development.

Not to mention the wealthy. After accumulating vast fortunes and gaining power through wealth, their ultimate pursuit was longevity. In an era of underdeveloped technology, the best way to achieve a longer lifespan was for a vampire to perform the First Embrace on them, turning them into longer-lived vampires, and continue enjoying everything wealth and power brought.

Vampires were, after all, vampires. Even if they were called the firstborn of humanity in scriptures, they were not good beings. Those wealthy individuals usually had to offer half their fortune for a chance to become a Lesser Bloodline.

In this way, vampires completed their initial capital accumulation without needing external aggression or bloody oppression of colonies.

With the increasing importance of capital in modern times, vampires, in addition to capitalists actively seeking them out, also learned how to acquire more wealth through the capital they held. Their experience accumulated over long ages gave them exceptionally keen insight. Even if vampires couldn't keep up with the times, there would still be people willing to serve them for wealth, power, or longevity.

To this day, too many capitalist groups have intricate ties to vampires. While saying all capitalists are vampires might be an exaggeration, it reflects the reality. Nick Fury could incite them, causing economic turmoil and a global crisis; this was an accurate prediction.

As a high-ranking member of the vampire hierarchy, with assets exceeding those of some small countries, Victor offering an oil field in exchange was not a big deal. Compared to the power and status he would gain from obtaining the Book of the Blood God, it was a minor matter.

Doctor Death placed his beer on the table and said, "Mr. Victor, you misunderstand. What I have may not be what you think."

As Doctor Death finished speaking, the lights in the vast factory suddenly illuminated. The intense change in light momentarily blinded everyone except Doctor Death. Mr. Bill, being a vampire, let out a scream and quickly raised the arm not attached to the briefcase to shield his face. Even Victor, on the other side of the screen, instinctively flinched due to his fear of sunlight.

"Don't be nervous, it's just ordinary lighting. What I said could change the Blood Clan's landscape is right before your eyes!" Doctor Death's slightly mocking voice continued.

Mr. Bill, not feeling the corrosive pain of being burned by sunlight, lowered his arm and looked at Doctor Death, somewhat bewildered.