Monarch of Evernight

The werewolf’s chest rapidly rose and fell, but each violent breath caused more blood to flow out of his injuries. He said with great difficulty, “The Summit of Peaks won’t let you have your way!”

Duras laughed out loud. “How will the Summit of Peaks ever know if I kill you now? You stinking dogs never use your brains, haha!”

He walked toward the young werewolf Schiller, pointed his blade at the latter’s chest, and said coldly, “You really know too much and even saw some things you should have never seen. Now, die!”

But just as Duras was about to pierce down with his sword, he felt a feeling of inexplicable danger. At the moment of life and death, he could only do his utmost to move his body and leap to one side.

However, he felt his lower back burn as his entire body flew out as though it had been smashed by a heavy hammer. All he managed to do was let out an anguished cry.

Another speck of silver light appeared in the air and caught up to Duras in the blink of an eye. The vampire viscount could not even scream this time as the bullet entered his abdomen and burned a fist-sized hole through him.

The size of the wound was only a minor issue. The wounded area, however, felt as if it were burning, and the pain it brought about was unusually severe. Duras was immediately shocked out of his wits because this was a sign of mithril entering the body. With his strength, the two injuries he had received just now weren’t lethal despite being quite serious, but he would die without a doubt if mithril had gone into the wound.

Even someone born of the twelve great vampire clans like Duras was at his last breath after being shot in two vital areas with Mithril Bullets of Exorcism.

The other vampires were completely caught off-guard—the calamity had struck too abruptly, and only after Duras had been shot twice did they look up at the crown of the tree where the two Mithril Bullets of Exorcism had been fired from.

Qianye had already leapt backward and landed behind the tree by the time the vampires looked up.

At this moment, two vampires ran toward Duras, while the rest charged toward the big tree. A number of them jumped up mid-way, drew their vampire longswords, and hacked toward the crown of the tree.

Qianye flashed out from behind the tree. The Twin Flowers rumbled continuously as he fired off four continuous shots. Four vampires collapsed amidst miserable screams, either dead or on the verge of demise.

After firing four continuous shots, Qianye put away the Twin Flowers, drew his Scarlet Edge, and pounced directly towards the closest vampire warrior. The latter had just reached rank-six and couldn’t even take a single move from Qianye.

The Scarlet Blade trailed a vaguely discernible shadow as it pierced swiftly through the vampire’s heart. After a successful strike, Qianye immediately pulled out the blade and turned toward another vampire.

This one was a blood esquire. He had long since drawn his sword in a vigorous stance and immediately thrust forward after seeing Qianye charge toward him. The presence of his sword intent was fairly stern, indeed the style of an ancient clan. However, Qianye deflected it with a wave of his bare left hand and smashed his face ruthlessly!

The blood esquire’s entire face caved in under Qianye’s viscount-level power and immediately collapsed on the ground.

At this time, a series of sanguineous light exploded on Qianye’s body as he was bombarded by numerous origin bullets. But the high-ranking vampires had already been wiped out completely, and the remainder were all warriors below blood esquire rank. With Qianye’s defenses and powerful constitution, even taking direct hits would merely result in some minor injuries.

Qianye grabbed a six-barrelled Vulcan rotary cannon from Andruil’s Mysterious Realm, and a blue light emerged within his eyes. Wherever his gaze fell, low-level vampires would feel their hearts wracked with extreme agony as their movements turned sluggish. The Vulcan cannon in his hand roared madly amidst a tempest of whistling metal, mowing down all the vampire warriors one by one.

The Vulcan cannon in Qianye’s hand was an outstanding remodeled weapon that used special high-caliber ammunition. It possessed extreme firepower at close range and was lethal to these blood esquires. As a gunpowder weapon, it could be used without limitation as long as one had enough ammunition and served as a great killer weapon in chaotic fights. Presently, ammunition was no longer a problem since Qianye possessed Andruil’s Mysterious Realm. Thus, Qianye had brought along a fair number of gunpowder weapons this time in order to deal with cannon fodder like servspiders, wargs, and blood thralls.

There was no longer a single standing vampire in Qianye’s sight by the time the Vulcan cannon stopped rumbling.

He drew his Scarlet Edge once again and walked around the battlefield stabbing through all their hearts regardless of whether they were dead or alive. On one hand, this action was to remove any potential trouble, while on the other, it aimed to absorb some essence blood in passing.

The warm flow rushing up through the Scarlet Edge made Qianye feel fairly comfortable. All these vampires came from an ancient clan and possessed purer blood energy compared to those of minor clans, even if their ranks were the same. In terms of efficacy, absorbing the blood of a baron from the twelve great clans was better than drawing the blood of a viscount from a small clan.

Qianye finally arrived before Duras after taking a trip around the battlefield.

This third-rank viscount glared at Qianye with intense hatred and said through gritted teeth, “You will suffer the full retaliation of our clan! You and your entire family!”

“I’m truly sorry, but that’s impossible.” With that, he pierced through Duras’ blood core with the Scarlet Edge.

Vast amounts of essence blood streamed continuously into Qianye’s body. Sensing his essence blood flowing out, Duras glared fixedly at Qianye and said in a trembling voice, “Impossible! You’re also of sacred blood.”

But he never finished this sentence—Qianye gazed coldly at him and suddenly accelerated the absorption rate. Duras’ blood core rapidly shriveled up and then cracked open like an air-dried fruit.

Qianye didn’t have the habit of wasting words with dying enemies, especially when he was in dark race territory.

Qianye gradually withdrew his blade; there was only a faint, cold gleam on its edge and not a single trace of blood. Qianye sheathed the dagger and searched through Duras’ body, but found nothing special apart from standard equipment. As such, he walked toward the young werewolf.

Schiller had long since returned to human form and was leaning against the tree. His countenance was deathly pale as he stared cautiously at Qianye. He was emitting a series of threatening growls from his throat, but there was an uncontrollable sense of alarm in his eyes. This curly brown-haired youth’s face still possessed a trace of childishness, and just like William, he had a totem tattoo of a mountain range on the side of his neck.

It seemed he was only a big boy but already possessed the strength of a baron. This improved Qianye’s evaluation of him by another level.

Qianye tossed the Vulcan onto the ground. He then lighted a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and asked, “You’re called Schiller? Can you still fight?”

The werewolf youth didn’t reply. He subconsciously edged backward in an attempt to distance himself from Qianye. The vampire squad that had been chasing after him all this time had lasted no more than a few minutes in this person’s hands. The young werewolf had never seen such accurate grasp of timing, ruthless attacks, and powerful combat strength. Even the elders from his tribe wouldn’t be able to perform such an efficient and accurate massacre despite their higher cultivation.

Humans were the common enemy of all dark races. Although the internal strife within the Evernight faction oftentimes exceeded their hatred of the human race, Qianye was no different from Duras in the young werewolf’s eyes. All of them were enemies.

Qianye laughed after seeing the werewolf youth’s alarmed and cautious expression. He pointed toward the cigarette in his hands and asked, “Do you want one?”

The werewolf slowly shook his head, not daring to take his eyes off Qianye.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me.” Qianye hadn’t even finished speaking when the werewolf shot out like lightning, rolled over to grab the Vulcan cannon, and aimed it at Qianye.

“Let me go.” This was the first time he had spoken on his own.

Qianye smiled and pointed at the Vulcan cannon. “Do you think that thing is useful against me?”

The werewolf’s gaze flitted across the injuries on Qianye’s body. The latter had taken at least half a dozen straight hits from the vampire warriors’ origin guns, and, through the large holes on Qianye’s protective armor, he could see that the wounds had already closed, leaving behind only faint traces of blood. Even if the wounds hadn’t closed, they were fairly small and shallow—minor injuries at most.

There was probably little the Vulcan cannon could do against Qianye if even a grade-three vampire origin gun had only left such light injuries. Moreover, Qianye’s movements just now were lightning fast; perhaps his head would be taken first even before he had finished pulling on the trigger.

The werewolf youth waved the weapon with an obstinate expression and shouted, “Let me go!”

Qianye took out William’s metallic token and waved it in front of the werewolf youth. “Your injuries are too severe. You won’t be able to walk out of this mountain even if I let you go. Moreover, after seeing this, I think you’ll be willing to at least let me finish talking.”

The werewolf youth’s eyes went wide after seeing the token in Qianye’s hand. “That’s the Summit of Peaks’ Sacred Envoy Writ! How did you get this thing?”

Qianye replied with a smile, “A fellow named William gave it to me. He’s quite mediocre in battle, but he can really eat a lot.”

The werewolf youth hesitated for a moment before approaching to sniff the writ token. Only then did he slowly put down the Vulcan cannon and said, “It does have the smell of the holy land. This writ token is genuine.”

Qianye put away the token and said, “Of course it’s true. William asked me to help him look after the tribesmen in this area. Why are you being chased by the vampires? And although you have the mark of the Summit, your strength is honestly quite lacking for such a title. How did that come to be?”

At this point, Qianye’s voice contained a wisp of coldness. He didn’t mind absorbing some more essence blood if the fellow he had encountered was a bragging swindler pretending to be from the Summit of Peaks. Presently, Qianye’s strength had advanced greatly and so had his capacity for essence blood. He still had space left after absorbing the essence blood of an entire vampire squad inclusive of a viscount. He was no longer like before where a single viscount was enough to fill him to the point of bursting.

The werewolf youth replied, “I… my name is Schiller and was, up until recently, a member of the Sharp Fang tribe. Our tribal ancestors moved to this region over four hundred years ago and had been living in Count Stuka’s territory all this time. As the number one warrior in the younger generation of our tribe, I gained the qualifications to participate in the decennial great hunt. There, I ranked within the top thirty and gained the qualification to join the Summit of Peaks.”

“That means you haven’t had the time to learn at the Summit of Peaks?”

“Yes,” the young werewolf replied.

Qianye nodded since this explanation was reasonable. He then addressed the most important issue.

“Why were the vampires chasing after you?”