murder poppy

The rain stagnates in a strange gesture at the border of the dense forest.All the falling raindrops stayed in the air with a certain plane as the boundary, separating the blood race like a water curtain.

There is no rainy season in the forbidden land.There are no flowers and plants stained with morning dew.

The sound of the rain was isolated, like a sonata stopped suddenly, and it still made people feel a little memorable for a while.

The vampire bushes are thicker than before.It seems that if there is less restraint, the plants will be more presumptuous.

Vijorel became quiet the moment he stepped into the barrier. Although he was not a talkative person, the solemnity and depression exuding from his body made the atmosphere even more anxious.

It's so quiet here.

There were no insects or birds, and the few villas passing by were empty and uninhabited.

Kindred are not herd animals, and solitude makes them happy and relaxed.But more and more abandoned manors made Vijorel realize the seriousness of the matter.

"Smell it?" Andre asked.

Vijorel nodded, looking at the towering bedroom in the distance.

The air is mixed with the scents of different blood races. They come from all major families, with pure blood and strong aura.These flavors blend together, stepping through one private territory after another, advancing like an army.

It's not just humans who are on the march.

"Adrian wouldn't do such a stupid thing." Andre said, frowning at the trace of blood caught on the tip of his nose, "not to mention the smell of his blood here."

"Riot." Vijorel said two words softly, and quickly walked towards the bedroom.

Without the camouflage of Youya Youzai, the elegant and stern vampire is an excellent fighting machine.Any vampires who might be hiding in the bushes and villas were ignored, because the coercion released by Vijorel in an instant was enough to frighten a three-generation vampire and prevent low-level vampires from moving.

Andre followed closely behind, seeing the broken flowers and plants on the side of the road, and the wooden signs abandoned in the bushes.

Apparently the blood clan had experienced an unfriendly dispute.In the mixed smell, he could only smell the blood of a few people.

Two belonged to the not-so-noble patriarchs, and the other two belonged to Cole and Adrian.

The moment Vijorel stepped into the garden in front of the Blood Emperor's Palace, the towering sculptures on both sides roared, and the stones cracked and fell head-on.

Vijorel stopped in time and watched the sculpture turn into a pile of rubble.

Such a massive attack would not cause any harm to the blood race, and the ears were filled with the loud sound of rolling stones.Amidst the roar, Vijorel flicked slightly to the front left, and disappeared on the spot in a blink of an eye.

Dust falls.Amidst the slight trampling of boot soles, a sharp and frightening wail sounded.

Vijorel's right hand was caught on the neck of a middle-aged man, and his white hand seemed to be stuck in the flesh of the man's somewhat "plump" neck, making him look extraordinarily weak and slender.However, the man's eyes were staring, his eyeballs were protruding, and his veins were exposed.

Vampires will not die from suffocation, but will be decapitated by strong fingers.

"Hoo--spare me! Your Majesty--hoo--!" The man panted heavily, and stuck his fingers into Vijorel's rock-hard fingers, trying to keep the danger away from him.

"Who?" Andre sniffed the man's breath, but he had no impression of this vampire with mediocre taste and appearance.

"The owner of the small family that has been raised recently, Woolf. He was one of the first people to defect from the clan and follow Gavin." Vijoler said.

Hearing Vijorel pronounce his name and camp accurately, Woolf's round face became even paler, like a fat pig raised in a pigsty.

"No...no! Your Majesty, my...is just a stopgap measure! What Gavin is not worthy of being a blood emperor at all! I am... I sneaked into the interior to find out information for you!" Woolf's throat was choked Uncomfortable, blushed before saying a flattering word.

However, neither Vijorel nor Andre had any interest in dealing with him.

When Woolf tried to show another low smile, the corners of his half-smiling stiff lips froze.

A powerful, destructive spiritual power enveloped him, and his pupils were only Vijorel's pupils like a deep pool, like a bottomless abyss, attractive and dangerous.

Woolf struggled instinctively for a moment, and clasped Vijorel's wrist with his fingers, the nails only halfway out, and he didn't move even before leaving red marks on Vijorel's pale skin.

Vijorel left Woolf's heavy body behind, and he directly violently read all of Woolf's memories: "He doesn't know much. The rebellious nobles unite to impeach the Blood Emperor, and they want to use the Blood Emperor as a sacrifice against him." Humanity declares war. He is just an unnamed little guy from Gavin, who wants to wait here and catch the rest of the people to claim credit for Gavin."

Andre frowned upon hearing this: "Gavin knew we were coming?"

"It's not us, it's me." Vijorel looked at Wulf, who was so soft and unconscious on the ground, and directly smashed his lingering soul to pieces.

Under the gaze of Vijorel, the piled waste rocks gave way one after another. Before leaving, the blood races cleaned up. The moment they stepped into the blood emperor's palace, a mixed and strong smell came over them.

Precious oil paintings were torn and treasured long swords were stolen.

Andre looked around the ruins, recalling Vijorel's words, and said with a sneer, "Sacrifice? Where are a group of bloodthirsty monsters going to seek the protection of the gods? Did these idiots faint from drinking the blood of animals?"

"It's just an excuse. Except for myself, the blood race will not admit that any god is above it. This is arrogance." Vijorel straightened the overturned candlestick in the corner of the palace, cut his finger, and dripped a drop of blood.

Soon the wall flashed with a dark red light, and the neatly written English message appeared on the wall with blood spreading downward.

"cemetery."

Andre observes the short word: "Cole?"

"Only he can leave a message here." Vijorel nodded, turning the ring on his fingertip.

There was a lot of blood in the hall.There are two huge splatter-like bloodstains on the wall, apparently someone cut off the neck or directly decapitated the head.The smell of blood came from a blood clan that Andre was not familiar with.

The other bloodstains were scattered, with a little trace of dragging.

"What are you thinking, Vijorel." Andre stared at the bloodstains, his nose was filled with a familiar smell, he didn't look at Vijorel, but he could feel the anger and gloom that could suppress him pervading.

"I've known Adrian and Cole since I learned that I was going to take over the family..." Vijorel said lightly, he wasn't too sad, as calm as a stone sculpture.There was only the first half of his sentence, and the second half was blended in the quiet air, and no one knew it except himself.

"squeak--!!"

The sharp chirping broke the silence, and the fat bat rushed into the hall from the entrance of the hall like a cannonball, and hit Vijorel's chest firmly.

The fat bat was able to fly with ease all the way. Although it was fed well, it was the fastest flying bat under Vijorel.It wasn't until it flew over the border and was scared away half its life by the chaotic and silent scene that it held back a tear to find its "missing" owner.

"Squeak! Squeak!" The bat kicked its legs and showed the letters tied to its claws.

Andre untied the letter box and pulled out the letter paper.

The letter paper was stacked several times, the font was very small, and the content was rich.

Andre looked up at Vijorel, who motioned him to read the letter.

Vijorel's expression was not surprised at all, as if he had expected the arrival of the bat and the contents of the letter.

Andre opened the letter, and the doubt in his heart dissipated in an instant, and it was blocked in his throat together with his suddenly flustered heart.

Samus is a great storyteller.Even the newsletter was detailed and appropriate, and even slightly described some speculation about Lyons' psychology.It is a good "article" with wonderful writing.

"What did he do?" Vijorel asked.

Andre's pupils locked onto the letter, almost igniting it.He habitually raised the corners of his lips, and replied coldly: "Use the spell to lure Gavin, and then..."

Throat rolling several times, still did not say the last half of the sentence.

Even in his own assumptions or in the words he conveyed, Andre didn't want the possibility of Lyons' death to arise.He knew what he was feeling, fear mixed with anger, and his empty heart began to ooze blood.

"You should go back, Andrea," said Vijorel. "The hunters are skilled at sacrifice."

Andre was silent for a moment, rubbing his fingers, and the letter paper was burned to ashes: "No. I have my things to do."

"Do you mean the blood race?" Vijorel said, "the blood race doesn't need you, Andre, the blood race doesn't need anyone."

The brain became chaotic and tense, and it took Andre a long time to taste what Vijorel meant, and he raised his head suddenly: "What do you want to do!?"

"Just telling you where you should belong."

"Death is something that must be experienced, and I knew it from the beginning." Andre became calm, as if talking about things outside of him, "The deaths of me and Lyons are not surprising."

"Next time you should choose a villa with better sound insulation." Vijorel smiled inappropriately, "Lines has already prepared the ending for you, Andre, he is not ready for the ending of your death .”

Andre looked at Vijorel, and in his eyes suddenly remembered the order that Lyons gave him that night.

The contract that seemed to be begging still lingered on him, and the slight sense of restraint was more like a protective film of selfishness and generosity.

"The blood race is my responsibility, not yours. I told you earlier that I have witnessed its prosperity, and I will also witness its decline." Vijorel said lightly, without looking at Andre, Instead, he stared at the quaint ring.

Inside, the restless blood and desire are clamoring, like a proud wild deer beside a deep lake.

"Vijorel..." Andre suddenly realized his intentions, and his voice trembled a little more rarely.

Vijorel looked straight into Andre's eyes calmly, his thin lips were mean and cold: "It is also an honor to bury my ethnic group with my own hands."