A hundred meters.
Fifty meters.
Ten meters.
Chris entered the abandoned warehouse without encountering any resistance.
From his vantage point, James Mester observed the warehouse through a pair of binoculars. Frowning, he muttered to himself, “Could it be there are no vampires inside?”
The warehouse had clearly been abandoned for years, its dilapidated state a testament to its age.
Upon entering, Chris found the space eerily quiet. Other than the sound of his own footsteps, there was nothing but silence.
He stopped abruptly and shouted, “I’m here! What do you want with me?”
Suddenly-crash! crash! crash!-the silence was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps.
Chris looked up and saw himself surrounded by a massive crowd. A quick glance counted about five hundred people.
These weren’t proper vampires, but members of the Blood Clan’s periphery-humans who had been bitten and infected, forcibly turned into subordinates.
At that moment, a red-haired man stepped forward.
It was none other than Henry, the Vampire Viscount.
Henry sneered. “You knew we were here, yet you still came to die?”
Chris smirked. “You vampires step onto my territory, and you think you don’t owe me an explanation?”
“An explanation?” Henry scoffed. “Fine. I’ll send you to hell, and we can discuss it there.”
Chris’s tone turned mocking. “You think you can kill me?”
Henry’s patience ran out. Waving his hand, he barked, “Kill him!”
Chris let out a cold snort as the Dragon Slayer sword shot out of his storage ring, slicing through the air with incredible speed.
In seconds, the ground was littered with corpses.
The five hundred infected fell one by one, each felled by a single strike of the Dragon Slayer.
Henry’s expression darkened as he watched from the side. “Impressive. I suppose you live up to your title as Amerosia’s Primus.”
But the deaths of the infected didn’t faze Henry. Strictly speaking, they were no more than a disposable force, a byproduct of the vampire virus. Their loss meant little to him.
“Still,” Henry growled, “even as Amerosia’s Primus, you’ll find vampires are no easy prey!”
Boom!
A wave of dark energy erupted from Henry, his aura radiating malice.
“You’ve sealed your fate, Chris,” Henry snarled. “I planned to leave the East Coast by nightfall, but since you’ve walked into my trap, you’ll die here!”
Henry had been hiding in the warehouse, intending to leave before sundown. But Chris’s unexpected arrival forced his hand.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
From the shadows, thirty true vampires emerged, moving with inhuman speed toward Chris.
Unlike the infected, these vampires were genuine members of the Blood Clan. Pale and radiating dark energy, they were far more dangerous.
Henry didn’t waste words. With a motion of his hand, he commanded, “Kill him!”
The thirty vampires launched themselves at Chris, their movements swift and calculated.
“Come on!” Chris roared as he charged forward, meeting the vampires head-on.
The battle was fierce. Chris noted their exceptional speed and the sharpness of their claws and fangs.
Vampires, he knew, were ranked by strength. The lowest were infected zombie-like creatures. Above them were ordinary vampires. Higher still were titled vampires, holding ranks like Baron, Viscount, Earl, Marquis, and Duke. At the pinnacle stood the Sovereign.
Despite their ferocity, the thirty vampires couldn’t overwhelm Chris. One by one, they fell to his blade.
Henry’s frustration grew. Each genuine vampire was a precious asset to the Blood Clan, and their ranks were thinning fast.
“Enough!” Henry roared, unable to contain his anger. He lunged at Chris with lethal intent.
Chris smirked. He could have ended the fight earlier but had been testing their strength. From his observations, ordinary vampires matched the Aether realm in power, while Barons were at the early to mid-Pinnacle stage. Viscounts, like Henry, were at the late Pinnacle stage.
For someone of Chris’s ability, none of this posed a real challenge.
Slash! Clang! Screams!
One after another, the vampires fell to Chris’s devastating attacks.
Boom!
The intensity of the battle caused the entire warehouse to collapse. Sunlight poured into the ruins, striking the remaining vampires.
For ordinary vampires, sunlight was their greatest weakness. They writhed in agony, their strength draining away.
Though Henry wasn’t as affected, his expression was grim.
Within moments, the last of the vampires were slain, leaving only Henry.
Henry’s confidence faltered as he realized the full extent of Chris’s power.
Desperate, he knelt and prayed aloud, “Great Lord Peter Gordon, grant me your strength!”
Dark energy began to swirl around him, growing stronger by the second.
Chris frowned, sensing the sudden surge in Henry’s power.
“So,” Chris muttered, “this vampire can actually draw strength from Peter Gordon?”
Henry opened his eyes, now filled with malice. “Chris, you dared interfere with the Dark Lord’s plans. Today, you die!”
Chris laughed mockingly. “If Peter Gordon ever descended to this world, you vampires wouldn’t even be worthy of licking his boots.”
Chris didn’t know the full extent of Peter Gordon’s power, but he could imagine it was terrifying-far beyond the reach of even Wraithbloom Realm cultivators.
As the dark god of the underworld, Peter Gordon commanded legions of ghostly soldiers, each more formidable than the last.