The elevator descends deep underground.
The research department and institute are both located beneath the school, cultivating numerous fish species, snakes, and insects, as well as vast stretches of precious, almost extinct trees.
These two levels are an aquarium and a garden.
The elevator continues to descend.
Inside the transparent glass wall, strange machines with nuclear symbols are emitting smoke…
On the B4 level, researchers are operating forklifts; it’s a warehouse.
On the B7 level, the characteristics of an underground laboratory finally appear.
Students are conducting experiments around petri dishes.
The alarm continues to blare, but in the students’ eyes, the threat to their lives seems far less important than the petri dishes.
B8 level.
B9 level.
On the B10 level, ugly and bizarre corpses lie in individual cultivation chambers, or if alive, are covered in needles.
These are blood slaves and revenants used for research.
The elevator begins to enter a restricted area.
On the B11 level, a doctor is performing blood tests on out-of-control ability users.
B20 level.
Restricted area, a place of deathly silence.
A dim, long passage.
The air is filled with a thick white mist, and faint roars can be heard echoing from deep within.
The environment on this level is completely out of place with the underground laboratory; the lighting is low, like a prison.
A group of researchers and school staff in protective suits retreat.
Soon after, an enforcer also runs out, removes his mask, and shakes his head, indicating their inability to deal with the out-of-control pure-blood vampire.
“A researcher mishandled an operation while attempting to cut brain tissue, injuring his hand, which allowed the vampire to come into contact with blood,” the person in charge reports.
“He’s hiding in the narrowest passage; there’s no chance to subdue him head-on.”
“Is he a common vampire or a New Blood?” Farrow frowns.
“If he were a common vampire, shooting him in the head or heart would suffice.”
“He’s a New Blood, Viscount-level, with multiple A-grade abilities.” The person in charge carefully hands her the data.
“He possesses [Blood Manipulation]. In the medieval wizard era, this was often referred to as blood magic. Only vampires with exceptionally high bloodlines possessed this ability. It not only allows close-range blood manipulation but can also convert those who have been bitten into blood slaves or revenants.”
Farrow throws down the data and glares: “Has anyone been bitten by him?”
“Three researchers and two students.”
The person in charge sighs: “He’s in an uncontrolled state and is transforming into an irrational revenant. If we attack rashly, it’s highly likely to trigger his instincts, to use gaming terms, he’ll use whatever skills he has. Then the bitten researchers and students will suffer. To ensure their safety, we’ve only been able to attempt soft tactics, but without exception, they’ve all failed.”
“We must ensure their personal safety; this situation is truly troublesome.” Farrow thinks for a moment, then looks at another team of enforcers who have just arrived.
They are all carrying firearms, but they aren’t using them.
No one can guarantee a fatal blow.
If he isn’t killed, that vampire is highly likely to turn the bitten students into monsters, and that’s the biggest worry.
It’s like a fully armed assault team can easily wipe out thugs, but if the thugs hold hostages, the situation becomes very passive.
Farrow glances at An Xiaoyi and immediately has an idea.
“Why don’t you give it a try?”
“Me?” An Xiaoyi is surprised.
He thought he had nothing to do with this and was just here to watch the commotion.
“Just help me out this once. It’s an emergency, and you should be able to suppress him,” Farrow says in a low voice.
An Xiaoyi doesn’t refuse, and indeed, it’s hard to refuse.
The bitten individuals could be converted into monsters at any moment, and this is something no one wants to see.
Principal Farrow seems to have great confidence in him, but he has never revealed his own abilities.
Publicly, he claims to have a super strong memory.
“I think Professor An can try. He’s a good shot with a gun; he can hit vital points with one shot,” Farrow says loudly, taking the protective suit brought by a researcher.
The tunnel is filled with many neurotoxins.
She gives An Xiaoyi a thumbs up.
An Xiaoyi rolls his eyes at her, thinking, “Give me a break.”
He doesn’t know how to use a gun at all and has only touched one a few times.
Clearly, Farrow wants to use the gun to disguise his ability, creating the illusion of a vampire being shot.
“Can Professor An really do it?” The person in charge is very worried.
“Do you know what his ability is?”
“Probably something like super memory.”
“Wrong!”
Farrow, with a serious face, spouted nonsense:
“It’s super concentration. Concentration is naturally linked to memory. Similarly, super concentration makes one a natural sharpshooter. Once he picks up a gun, no enforcer here can compare to him.”
“I see!” the person in charge exclaimed, impressed.
Everyone looked at An Xiaoyi, their eyes filled with expectation and affirmation.
An Xiaoyi gritted his teeth, took the assault rifle, pulled on his mask, and walked into the fog-filled corridor.
The sounds behind him seemed to fade further and further, the conversations gradually losing direction, until only a baby-like crying roar remained.
“They didn’t even give me a chance to refuse,” he muttered.
However, he genuinely didn’t want to see those researchers and students die.
Becoming a revenant monster was no different from dying; they were all innocent.
Having lived among humans for so long, An Xiaoyi’s thoughts were no different from a human’s.
An Xiaoyi stood in the dark corridor, listening to that roar.
The sound was closer; he was moving.
The corridor was empty, but the roar came from straight ahead, yet also seemed to be circling around him.
He vaguely sensed that this vampire still had his wits about him.
The footsteps constantly changed; the other party was maneuvering.
That vampire was very clever and hadn’t lost his mind at all.
He had been pretending the whole time.
Only by pretending to be on the verge of transforming into a revenant would the school dare not attack rashly.
He had five hostages in his hands, but once the hostages lost their value, it meant his demise.
He roared and howled, but in reality, he was searching for an escape route.
He was in a hurry.
He noticed the school had sent someone else in, but it was only one person, so he emerged from the narrow passage.
He wanted one more hostage.
The other party was a New Blood vampire, Viscount-level.
An Xiaoyi, however, was the only offspring of an Old Blood family, Earl-level.
There was an insurmountable gap between them.
An Xiaoyi removed his mask.
The neurotoxin in the thick fog had no effect on him.
His fingers twitched incessantly; it wasn’t because he was cold, but a sign that his ability was about to be unleashed.
Here, there was no longer any need to hide.
His blood-red eyes brightened at that moment, silver hair cascading down.
He raised his hand and released his ability in the most simple way.
[Summoning of the Ancients] —
Several dark figures flashed out from the corner, letting out low growls.
Amidst the tidal wave of shrieks, they all pounced onto the ceiling without warning.
The vampire was clinging to the ceiling, planning a sneak attack, but he froze when he saw An Xiaoyi.
“It’s you… it’s you! It’s you!”
The man shouted excitedly as the summoned dark figures pounced on his tattered body, transforming into black thorns that bound and restrained him.
He roared and screamed with bloodshot eyes, unable to release his abilities anymore.
The blood in his body was steadily draining away.
An Xiaoyi furrowed his beautiful brows.
He didn’t remember meeting him, but from his words, it seemed he knew him.
He didn’t pay it any mind, picking up the gun from the ground again and pressing the muzzle against the man’s heart.
The gun was loaded with mercury bullets, a lethal weapon against vampires.
Bang!
The gunshot utterly sent the St. Antiona School’s internal forum into a frenzy.