Vol. 16 [Crimson Cloud · Scarlet Mist]
The word Cossack originates from a Turkic word meaning "free man" or "brave man"—the Kazakh word of the Cossack people (Turanese) originates from the same Turkic word.
Jason Megan's waiter is of mixed race. His father is an American of Poland descent, and his mother is a Soviet Slav, both of whom have Cossack ancestry.
Her full name is quite interesting.
It's called [Hors·Juthrbog·Лидия·Катюша]
The translated name is [Holls Juseberg Lydia Katusha].
It is a hybrid of Latin and Russian languages.
This is related to her family background.
--Holles' father was a CIA contract worker and an international mercenary active in the Middle East. He worked for the Emperor Penguin Unit, the Arctic Fox Force, and HK Weapons Company. He was a swift and skilled hitman with a license to kill, and his real name was Juseberg.
--Holls' mother was a KGB agent who infiltrated the Federal Bureau of Investigation KGB the Soviet era. Her real name is unknown; she used three aliases and two code names. Let's just call her Big Katusha for now.
The two met while carrying out their respective missions during the Gulf War.
--After the mission ended, during the turbulent period of the collapse of the Soviet Union, Katusha sought out her wartime friend Chris to avoid the successive purges by the KGB and CIA. The two fled to a small village in Romania, living in anonymity and rebuilding a wonderful family.
By 2007, Lehman Brothers had already initiated bankruptcy proceedings, and Merrill Lynch had been acquired by Bank of America. A massive financial tsunami had plunged US intelligence agencies into a state of confusion and busyness.
Katusha and Chris had just had their first child.
--She is Jason Megan's waitress: Holles Juseberg.
But this hardcore version of "Spy House" is anything but heartwarming.
Holles' upbringing was filled with lies and deception; even his parents, who were as close as family, would fight over issues such as his surname and his safety.
Chris's father wanted little Katusha to learn quick-fire shooting and CQC by the age of four.
Katusha's mother instructed young Katusha to begin using disguise and makeup at the age of eight, and to become fluent in multiple languages.
They are always busy; they are always traveling around.
Dad always has a furrowed brow, and Mom always has a fake smile on her face.
Little Katusha understood everything and knew everything.
After all, she had the blood of a warrior and the heart of an actress.
She was raised by a retired medic from the SAS Royal Special Task Force. This older woman was Chris's father's instructor and a specially hired armed employee of the [Philosopher Foundation] sent to the BOSS to help him train his soldiers and monitor his every move in the underworld.
For little Katusha, nothing in this world is easy.
Movies, magazines, dolls, or pop music.
Fast food, cell phones, accordions, or cats and dogs.
These things were too extravagant for her.
Her world contained weapons of war, self-hypnosis techniques to resist waterboarding interrogation, and training in the mannerisms of typical individuals at a spy school.
She has top-tier membership cards at major shooting ranges around the world.
Eight weapons workshops want to tailor-make firearms customization plans for her.
She has fired many, many shots, but she has never killed anyone.
Under her parents' training, little Katusha knew how to survive, but had absolutely no idea how to live.
Until the BOSS found her guardian, found the SAS instructor grandmother, took little Katusha to the Underworld, and arranged for her first passenger— Jason Megan.
At this very moment--
--The clock tower in South Sea City struck midnight.
The large estates surrounding the castle were deserted, creating an eerie atmosphere.
Specifically, it was Leonardo who couldn't understand it.
Sixteen newspapers, thirty-three detective agencies, and three MI6 agents from across the United Kingdom were sent out to gather intelligence and spread information.
--No one came back.
All that returned were meaningless, bizarre, and chaotic messages.
Or it could be a will or testament written on one's deathbed.
Or perhaps it's the piercing screams and agonizing cries from a recorded phone call.
More often, it's a matter of inexplicable disappearances within a very short period of time. These include marginalized individuals with slightly less strength, those lacking security awareness, and ordinary, unfortunate people who haven't yet undergone the blood-donation ceremony. One second these unfortunate souls are discussing where they're going and what they're doing, full of anticipation that the Rose Sect can make a significant impact in this power shift—and the next second they vanish into thin air, along with their GPS signals, disappearing from satellite maps. No matter how much they call out or ask other brothers in the area to search the residential houses where these sentries are stationed, they find nothing.
What's even more terrifying is--
--If you call on an unprofessional helper to find someone, the GPS blue marker on the satellite map will turn into a black hole.
Other search and rescue personnel who approach the target are also swallowed up by this inexplicable [black hole].
Special forces members like the SAS are world-class, skilled at rescuing hostages and carrying out combat missions in complex and challenging environments. The Blessed Holy Blood has given them stronger bodies and more resilient spirits, making them the top combat units among vampires, even in South Sea City and throughout London.
But when they lost all contact, not a single message came back.
This is what Leonardo found utterly baffling and incomprehensible.
These unseen enemies were incredibly cunning, possessing almost complete knowledge of the SAS's lifestyle and combat methods—so much so that these three soldiers couldn't even leave behind their last words.
On the contrary, other marginalized people, other ordinary people, were able to buy themselves a little time to survive, and some incomprehensible screams came back.
"Just like"
Leonardo swallowed hard, his face ashen, as he stood by the manor's large iron gate.
"It's like they did it on purpose, they absolutely did it on purpose."
At this moment, Little Li's hands trembled uncontrollably as he covered his face in terror, peering through his fingers into the dark, deep distance of the road.
How he wished a car could break the deathly silence.
Even if there is only one survivor, even if there is only one.
At least we won't be groping in the dark like we are now, wildly guessing at the enemy's capabilities.
His brain was racing, trying to glean any useful information from the phone recordings, from the varying lengths of the last words and screams.
"The Donald brothers, with little influence at Blackflynn's Guardian branch, survived for two minutes."
"Judging from the sounds of bones breaking and muscles tearing, the two brothers were as if they had been devoured alive by a monster. Such monsters seem to have very high body temperatures. Before they died, they cried out, 'It hurts so much, it's so hot, let me go. Please, let go!' -- From these characteristics, it can be determined that this was not the Lapis Lazuli Guards' bathound unit. Werewolves who have been bled by the wolf mother do not have such high body temperatures."
"Qiao Li of Greenwich lived for less than a minute. She was far more capable of fighting Donald brothers. Apart from some mysterious last words, I couldn't get any useful information."
"The surveillance footage showed Winston Spencer first threatening her, then assembling a junk revolver from antique parts, and finally piecing together a muzzle-loading flintlock shotgun. He then used a supernatural ability, invisible even to the camera, to dismantle Qiao Li's armor and deliver the final Qiao Li with silver shotgun shells."
"They did it on purpose. They deliberately let these weak and ugly lackeys bark a few times before they died, thinking that this would scare us and make us cowardly?"
Is he Winston Spencer?
I'm not sure.
"Seven days ago, he asked me to send my regards to the mistress and sent me an electronic invitation to Dr. Cheng Gui's funeral. The knight in the video was still a frail, old man with a full head of white hair."
"But now, he's grown blond hair?"
"Could someone have secretly given him blood, turning him into a vampire?"
"But the way he casually handled the silverware drove me insanely with jealousy."
"If I'm not mistaken, Wilson, who went to investigate Spencer's background, also died."
"We only found a stack of backup copies of the manuscript at his house—the subject was Jack the Ripper."
"What kind of international joke is this? This urban legend could actually become reality?"
Are we fighting a ghost from over a hundred years ago?
"Otherwise, where did his eternally youthful and ageless body come from, and how could he access the perfected holy blood of antiviral products?!"
At this point, a hint of greed and cruelty flashed in Leonardo's eyes.
If this blood could be obtained, the life cycle of the Rose Sect would come to an end.
It is superior and more perfect than the Blessed Holy Blood worshipped by vampires, and requires almost no cost.
If I, Leonardo, could get my hands on that kind of blood, this perverse order of female supremacy and male inferiority would be swept into the dustbin of history.
I, Leonardo, will become the living Son, the Holy Father, and the Holy Spirit.
As long as I use my soul power, along with this miraculous blood...
Whether on the surface or underground, I will build a new world order.
Just as Little Li was feeling quite pleased with himself, preparing to extract initial shares from the waning competitiveness of the "vampire" product and then jump to researching the industrial upgrading of another "holy blood" industry, aiming to expand and strengthen it through a backdoor listing, while he was pondering these things—
--Car headlights appeared in the distance.
Leonardo was overjoyed.
He hurriedly took out a white silk handkerchief from his black tuxedo; it was the napkin that Our Blessed Mother used to wipe her mouth after meals, and he had always been reluctant to throw it away.
At this moment, Mary's fragrance could dispel his anxiety, making him radiant and ready to welcome the victorious warriors.
Who could it be?
Who will be the first to come back?
The prayers must have been answered!
Lady Luck smiled upon the brave warrior; the courageous sentinel overcame numerous obstacles and brought back vital intelligence!
Leonardo clasped his hands together in a devout prayer, murmuring something under his breath.
"How many people are there? At the very least, we need to figure out how strong they are."
"At least speak normal human language, speak English."
"What the hell? Two newly joined bitches chatted with me in Korean for over two minutes before they died—I had to go through all that trouble to find a translator at the university town to figure out what kind of rubbish they were talking about."
The car lights got brighter and brighter.
Leonardo immediately gave the order over the walkie-talkie.
"Come to the front gate of the manor to greet our guests! All doormen, come here! We have distinguished guests!"
The light sources on the winding mountain road amidst the low hills appeared and disappeared intermittently.
Within a minute, seventeen or eighteen servants stood in front of the manor's large iron gate.
Leonardo grabbed one of them and kept talking about it.
Can you tell what kind of car that is?
"I can't tell, sir,"
Then he grabbed another one.
"It should be Mercedes-Benz?"
Nobody in the newspaper office drives a Germany car.
Leonardo was covered in sweat, which he couldn't wipe away.
He then grabbed another person.
"You can hear the engine?"
"I heard you, sir, it doesn't sound like a gasoline engine."
Leonardo breathed a sigh of relief. The roar of the diesel engine reminded him of the Red Title Sun, and the newspaper's owner—
This boss has a good income, but he usually wears plaid shirts and jeans. His entire wardrobe, including clothes, watches, and jewelry, costs no more than three hundred pounds. He is a frugal and simple person, and he also likes to drive a Mazda diesel car.
This boss is a shrewd businessman with an exceptional ability to read people and understand their character. He can often figure out a person's personality and habits with just a few words.
If this newspaper owner can return to Chaderton Fort safely, he will surely gain something from the experience.
Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs"!
--It's over!
As the roar of the engine grew closer, the blinding high beams made Leonardo's servants squint.
Leonardo, fearing that his unsightly demeanor would make him a laughingstock to his distinguished guests, instructed his servants to bow and line up to greet the vehicles.
Immediately afterwards--
He felt Hot Wind blowing against his face.
In just a second, the servants lined up in a row were torn apart like puppets by a powerful, monstrous force, their leg and hip bones exposed.
He barely had time to think; his eyes could only catch glimpses of the sparks flying from the silver-core bullet as it cut across the asphalt.
The explosion of the supersonic bullet didn't arrive until two seconds later.
At this moment, Leonardo's legs went light, leaving only half of his body, and he collapsed to the ground in despair.
He looked into the distance, about a hundred meters away, with panic and fear.
A sixteen-wheeled truck sped towards us.
--It was like an ancient monster about to split mountains and shatter rocks, easily smashing the gargoyle sculpture next to the iron gate.
The doorman and the servant only glanced at each other and uttered a curse word.
The bullets that sprayed out of the window immediately extinguished those words.
Leonardo was terrified in an instant.
He barely reacted and didn't dare to move at all.
The gunman in the truck was searching for prey; any target showing signs of movement would be locked onto and aimed at, its head smashed.
But if this continues...
--If this continues...
"Click!"
The shrill, piercing sound dragged Leonardo back from heaven to hell.
The servants at the front of the procession were already dead; the steel behemoth's white front teeth and black tires had crushed them!
Blood and foam splattered everywhere along the spinning wheel hub, and all the screams of agony instantly turned into the clear sound of bones cracking.
Leonardo's heart was pounding in his throat.
He was about to reach for his gun in his tuxedo to return fire when he saw the two young valet servants in front of him lose their legs and also try to draw their guns.
Their arms had just reached into the Kevlar lining of the scissor-tailed suit when a full-powered rifle bullet roared—his skull was already flying into Leonardo's face.
Fragments of the antiviral silver bullet splashed into Little Li's eyes, rendering him incapable of fighting back. He could only hear the Death God wielding his scythe.
Oh no--
--It was Death God driving a huge truck, like riding a warhorse that spews deathly flames, driving away vicious dogs that gnaw at bones and flesh, about to come before him.
Cruel!
Cruel!
This is absolutely outrageous!
Leonardo felt a chill run through his body, as if he had fallen into an ice cave!
He couldn't believe there were such cold-blooded people in the world!
To conserve precious silver bullets, they resorted to the brutal method of whipping corpses until they were reduced to mush.
The originally powerful wails from the frontal lobe gradually weakened.
These physically strong vampires couldn't even utter a scream.
The young valet at the front of the procession pleaded with his godfather Leonardo.
"I, the general affairs officer, won't live much longer."
"But you must... you must survive, General Affairs."
"Mary is waiting for you to serve her."
The bodies of these male servants occasionally emitted bursts of spiritual light, attempting to force the writhing White Lady back into her body from her open wounds, to forcibly prolong her last bit of life, so as to create a path for Leonardo to survive.
Leonardo had no compassion whatsoever; he was ecstatic inside, but dared not utter a sound.
He feared that if he uttered even one more word, it would become a tracer in the raging noise, exposing him to Death God.
With a loud "bang," the loyal servant roared and, with his last ounce of strength, like a mantis trying to move a chariot, plunged two sharp thigh bones into the front wheel of the truck.
The entire front of the car veered and bounced to another location due to the immense impact of the tire blowout.
The red-hot steel wheel rolled over most of Leonardo's torso, but unlike its originally precise and clear trajectory, it failed to completely destroy his skull.
The large truck drove all the way to the central courtyard, crashed through the flowerbeds and into the castle gate, like an old, weary wolf, its headlights going out.
A dark figure jumped out of the car.
At that moment, Leonardo had no time to think about anything else.
He had to survive; he had to draw primordial energy from this pool of flesh and blood to rebuild his physical body.
With only one arm and half a chest remaining, it didn't stop him from eating silently.
As long as he can consume the flesh and blood of these nobles, this aristocrat can return to his peak condition.
His eyes were fixed on the bullet's armor fragments embedded in the flesh, and he could vaguely make out the size of the AK-12 ammunition.
--The enemy is Jiang Xueming!
--She was the murderer that Mary longed for.
An indescribable sense of shame and jealousy almost robbed him of all his reason. He couldn't understand why a mere boy who hadn't even awakened his Soul Might could win the favor of the mistress and relegate him, the current godfather, to the sidelines.
This cunning, blood-sucking monster struggled in the mire of flesh and blood, its throat, tongue, and every mycelial protein cell in its body twitching and throbbing wildly as it absorbed energy to aid its brain in devising the best strategy to deal with Jiang Xueming!
Ever since Mary bluntly stated her intention to change godfathers, Leonardo has been unable to eat or drink, often forgetting to suck blood, and repeatedly watching the surveillance footage from the Royal Free Hospital and that video recording.
He had studied it for so long, and thought he knew Jiang Xueming's height, strength, killing efficiency, and metabolism inside and out.
He was impatient and summoned the true name of his soul, eager to fight his nemesis.
"[Crimson Scarlet Mist]!"
A cloud of crimson mist burst forth from the tattered body, from which came the faint chirping of insects; these tiny mosquitoes were measured in nanometers.
They surged into the bloody mud, extracting more essence for Leonardo.
Any living being that inhales such spiritual insects, or that enters the body through the five senses, is highly poisonous.
These insects are like sophisticated nanomachines, capable of destroying cellular structures at the molecular level. In just one minute, a blood clot in the lungs and a bacterial infection can kill an elephant.
Leonardo grinned maliciously from within the swirling blood mist.
"--My soul power is invincible!"