Chapter Seventy-One: The Vampire's Trap (Part Two)

It seemed they were setting up an ambush. If that was the case, then the wolf king’s subordinates were probably not here—were they waiting for this master of the wolf clan to arrive? Just as I was about to descend, a chill wind swept past, and Makas, who had been floating beside me, was yanked from the air by a lightning-fast silver figure and plummeted toward the ground. The speed was astonishing—almost too fast for the eye to follow.

Only when Makas landed with a heavy thud did I spot, some twenty meters ahead, a floating figure—a werewolf with silver fur and silver wings. The aura he exuded made me feel as though this was a perfect creation of heaven and earth, a silver werewolf that could fly. As I gazed into his sharp wolfish eyes, I gained a deep understanding of the wolf’s power and intelligence in this world.

His icy gaze swept over me, and a cold snort echoed in my ears from ten meters away, followed by his chilly voice: “The werewolf clan bears no grudges against your corpse demon tribe. What is it you intend here?” He locked eyes with me, leaving me momentarily speechless.

I couldn’t very well admit I was just meddling out of boredom. This had nothing to do with me originally—if not for Te, I wouldn’t have gotten involved in this chaos at all. So, I made up a reason, my voice cold as I replied, “I’ve long heard that after transformation, werewolves become erratic and reckless, slaughtering the innocent with abandon. I came today... well, to deliver justice.”

These were nothing but lies, cobbled together from every disparaging phrase I could recall, and I felt a bit guilty as I spoke—who knew how reality differed from film when it came to werewolves?

No sooner had I finished than I saw Makas, his dark wings unfurled, shoot up from the ground and ram into the werewolf’s chest, knocking him back ten meters through the air. Watching Makas from behind, I couldn’t help but think—wasn’t this a feat only a Blood Emperor could accomplish? Wasn’t this werewolf said to be on the verge of becoming a wolf king? How could he be so fragile, sent flying by a single blow from an ordinary Blood Emperor? The only explanation that flashed through my mind was that Makas had advanced further in power—but why had he concealed it from me?

As I puzzled over these uncertainties, Makas shouted, “Get over here and help! I can’t hold out much longer!” Then he clashed with the werewolf once more.

I saw that Makas had gone from holding the upper hand to being on the defensive—whether he was faking or not, there was no time to dwell on it. I instantly charged my body with supernatural energy and sped into the fray, though I couldn’t help but wonder where the other five vampires had gone.

Facing two opponents of equal strength, no one could hold out for long. After more than half an hour of aerial combat, the werewolf began to falter, left only to take a beating. Still, his endurance astonished me—he truly deserved to be one of the wolf king’s elite; his resilience was formidable.

But a cornered werewolf could be even more dangerous. With a surge of power, his silver claws unleashed three streaks of silver energy that slashed toward Makas and me, each strike nearly matching the level of a wolf king’s attack.

Against such an assault, I was forced to draw on every ounce of my strength to dodge. If even one of those three silver streaks hit me, I would be gravely wounded. Though not fatal, with so many vampires nearby, once they finished off the werewolf, I might well be their next target.

The werewolf had unleashed his hidden potential only when pushed to the brink, but even that couldn’t last forever. The three lines of silver energy soon faded into nothingness, vanishing without touching either Makas or me.

Now the werewolf was utterly spent. The effort of his previous attack had drained him, and he could no longer stay aloft. He quickly glided down, landing atop the square platform of what looked like an ancient altar, its bricks darkened by the passage of time.

Makas and I landed on the altar first. The werewolf, weakened from exhaustion, was slumped on the ground, his back against a stone pillar that reached for the sky. His head hung low, yet his eyes remained cold and sharp, his silver hair stirring in the wind—like a battle-weary warrior just returned from the front.

My gaze remained fixed on the werewolf, paying no attention as Makas slipped behind me. He began to gather dark supernatural energy in his hands, bringing it closer and closer to my back—clearly intending to strike me down in one fatal blow, all while I remained oblivious to the threat.

I only realized the danger when I felt the chill wind of his swirling energy behind me, and I slowly turned my head. Seeing what Makas was doing, my heart went cold with despair. In that moment, there was nothing I could do to fight back—I could only stare wide-eyed as the energy, accompanied by Makas’s treacherous laughter, closed in on my chest.

Just then, at the critical moment between life and death, a yellow, moonlit figure flashed past me, sending Makas flying over twenty meters away and gouging a long trench half a leg deep into the earth.

That yellow, moonlit figure now stood beside me. Seeing that the danger Makas posed was gone, I numbly turned to look at my rescuer. It was none other than the uncle I’d encountered driving drunk some days ago—I didn’t know his name, but I remembered he called himself Lei Feng with the Red Scarf.

Uncle gave me a wry grin. “Kid, you help others without knowing right from wrong, but beware—it’s yourself who’ll suffer for it.” With that, another flash of yellow light shot from his side, heading straight for Makas, who stood in the ravine.

This was no longer a battle at our level—this was a fight beyond the first generation of corpse demons. The uncle and Makas, locked in combat, looked like two blazing comets, their power and speed astounding me. Was this the might of a true ancestral demon?

I had already sensed something unusual about Makas. From his very first strike, he’d revealed strength beyond that of a Blood Emperor, though he’d tried to hide it later. Now I was certain—he had surpassed that rank.

Watching the two phantoms clash, evenly matched, I realized that if Makas was now a super Blood Emperor, and the uncle could fight him to a standstill, then the uncle too must be a master of that level. With that thought, I no longer had to worry about the uncle’s safety.

As I prepared to study their fighting techniques a bit longer, I noticed the five vampires who’d been hiding before, each nearly at Blood Emperor level, flying toward us.

At that moment, I heard a crisp snap of fingers, then the uncle’s voice: “Hey, kid, you take care of those five little bats. I’ll handle this damned big bat for you.” No sooner had he finished than I felt the supernatural energy in the air surge again—the uncle was throwing himself fully into his battle with Makas.

Facing the five vampire elites swooping toward me, I knew they were Makas’s own kin, for among them was his third son, Louis.

Since their father had tried to ambush me, I would have to slaughter them in return. First the interest, then the principal. No sooner had I made up my mind than the golden runes behind me flared even brighter, and a model of a faintly golden weapon appeared in my hand. As I leapt, the golden runes trailed a shimmering line of stardust behind me. This was the first time I had truly lost my temper since becoming the Corpse Demon King.

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