The elderly man sitting upright at the head of the circular conference table—the Vice President of the Guild—forcefully suppressed the metallic taste in his throat, his hands clenched tightly under the heavy oak table, fingernails nearly digging into his palms.
At the very moment Tulia burst through the doors, he relied on the composure honed through years of hard struggles to discreetly activate the Emergency Call Button hidden beneath the table, sending the highest-level alert to President Balza.
Right now, he had to stall for time!
Grover took a deep breath, struggling to steady his pounding heart, and forced a complicated expression onto his face—a mix of terror and an attempt to maintain dignity.
His voice trembled almost imperceptibly as he looked toward the doorway, at the silver-haired vampire who seemed the incarnation of death:
“This… this esteemed and powerful guest,” he carefully chose his words to avoid provoking her, “we… of the Northport Guild, believe we have no enmity with you. For you to arrive tonight… with such a display, what exactly is your purpose? If it’s wealth you seek, everything can be discussed! I have the key to the Guild’s treasury right here—there are gold coins, jewels, magic materials, all at your disposal! All I ask… all I beg is for your mercy!”
As he spoke, his gaze indicated a nearly-collapsed female councilor beside him.
The woman, shaking, fished out a keyring inlaid with various gems from her bosom, and cautiously pushed it to the edge of the table. The metal clinked with a crisp sound that, in this moment, seemed feeble beyond words.
Tulia watched his performance with keen interest, her crimson eyes seeming to pierce right through to his soul.
She didn’t even glance at the keys that would drive any thief mad. Instead, she took a few light steps forward, the sound of her high heels striking the floor magnified infinitely in the deathly silence of the chamber—each step like a blow to the hearts of those present.
The Blood Blade spinning through the air adjusted its direction slightly with her movement, like a venomous serpent ready to strike, exuding a suffocating, bloody aura.
Suspended in midair, the massive orb of blood—condensed from all the blood of that burly man moments ago—still rotated slowly, casting a nauseating, dark-red shadow.
“Wealth?” Tulia finally spoke, her tone breezy, as if discussing the weather. “Oh my, Mr. Vice President, that’s quite an outsider’s way of putting things.” She stopped at the other end of the table, facing Grover across the distance, her slender fingers tapping the cold tabletop. “Look at me—do I seem like someone who’d be troubled over money? Top-tier custom outfit, all handmade, a hit among the vampires! Besides,” she shrugged, “I’m my own ‘Mobile Blood Bank’—what would I need with your stash of coins?”
Her gaze swept over Grover’s facade of calm, the keys on the table, and finally fixed on his pupils, now shrunk with fear.
“As for enmity…” She drew out the words, as if recalling something. “Oh! You mean the Northport ‘Slave’ Traders Guild?” She deliberately stressed the word “Slave,” wearing an expression of sudden realization. “How forgetful of me! All those blood debts you owe—have you got them all written down somewhere? Should I help jog your memory? Though I imagine the list’s so long, it’d take till morning to read it out loud, and wouldn’t that just keep everyone up all night for nothing?”
Tulia’s deliberate emphasis on “slave” made it clear that there was no way to wash away their sins.
She cocked her head, a mischievous smile flickering on her lips:
“Or perhaps, Mr. Vice President, you’re banking on that little flashing ‘Emergency Call Button’ under the table… thinking it’ll change the script tonight?” She winked. “Don’t be nervous, I’m a reasonable person. Go on and call for help, I’ll be right here waiting. The more, the merrier—just right for a group deal: buy one, get ten free! That’s a bloody good bargain, don’t you think?”
Grover’s pupils shrank to pinpricks, his face going ashen in an instant! She knows! She even knows about the Transmission Crystal!
Tulia nodded in satisfaction at his look of sudden collapse, like an actress appreciating a cooperative audience member.
“No worries,” she said lightly, as if arranging a party, “I can wait. In fact… let’s have everyone who needs to be here, arrive together.”
“After all, when settling old scores…”
She raised her hand, and the Blood Blade spinning overhead hummed in excitement.
“…the more people, the better, don’t you think?”
As her words fell, the remaining Guild executives in the hall plummeted into utter despair.
Their last hope—that the President would arrive with overwhelming force to save them—was so easily pierced and twisted into an even more terrifying threat: all of them, swept away at once.
Grover could no longer support himself; his bulky body slid off the expensive chair, collapsing onto the floor, a warm patch spreading in his pants.
He was finished, and the Guild… was likely finished, too.
Heavy footsteps accompanied by a mighty presence approached rapidly, as the President of the Northport Slave Traders Guild—Balza—finally arrived, flanked by his elite Guards.
This elderly man, his hair and beard snow-white and his frame gaunt, swept the devastated conference hall with hawk-like eyes, finally fixing his gaze on Tulia, brows knitted tight.
He was certain he’d never seen this powerful vampire before, but regardless, anyone daring to provoke the Guild’s authority would not leave here alive!
“Kill her!”
Balza wasted no words; with a wave of his withered arm, his battle-hardened Guards—all high-rank warriors or mages—immediately charged forward with a roar.
Dou Qi and magical radiance burst forth in an instant, the momentum fearsome.
Yet, a bizarre scene unfolded.
Several of those in front suddenly stumbled, as if tripped by something, and fell forward screaming.
Looking down in horror, they discovered that everything below their knees… was gone! Not severed, but as if wiped away by an invisible eraser—smooth as glass. Only then did blood begin to gush out in torrents!
“My legs! My legs are gone!”
“Ahhh—!”
Shrill howls of agony replaced the battle cries, the air thick with the stench of blood.
A flicker of shock flashed through Balza’s clouded eyes, but was quickly replaced by a deeper, more vicious glare.
In his youth, he was notorious for cruelty and bloodlust, obsessed with the “art” of dismemberment and torture. This supernatural spectacle did not frighten him—on the contrary, it stoked his twisted lust for battle.
“Useless trash!”
He spat the words and, all at once, his withered body swelled, loose skin stretched tight by knotted muscle, and his Dou Qi burned like tangible fire!
Pushing off with explosive force, the ground cracked beneath his feet as he shot forward like a cannonball, crossing over ten meters in an instant. His heavy fist, capable of shattering mountains and stone, thundered straight for Tulia’s seemingly delicate abdomen!
“Die!”
His fist passed straight through Tulia’s body.
But the sensation was wrong! It wasn’t hitting flesh—it felt like punching into a mass of thick, sticky liquid!
As he stared in shock, the “Tulia” before him rippled, then melted into a puddle of bright blood, splattering to the carpet and vanishing without a trace.
At that very moment, a cold, mocking voice spoke from extremely close behind him:
“Hey old man, got some strength left in you, huh? Too bad… your aim’s a little off. Did you skip breakfast this morning?”
And then, Balza felt something give his backside a not-too-hard, but thoroughly humiliating, kick.