murder poppy

The cemetery is the only inviolable holy place of the blood race.No vampire, no matter how perverse and withdrawn, has a contemptuous attitude towards the cemetery.

Sacrifice to the cemetery with the blood of the royal family is a vulgar etiquette that Vijorel has never heard of after living for thousands of years, but it has shaken the hearts of most vampires.It's not that the lobbyist has a slender mouth, but that the beasts who have slept under the treaty are tired.

After Andre left, Vijorel stood alone in the hall, hanging his head between the broken crystal ceiling lamp and the scattered stones on the wall, expressing his remorse to the unknown object.

Arrogance, greed, and even sex//desire are not the Achilles heel of a group.Loneliness is.

In Vijorel's long life, apart from the stray Andre, there are only two of his kind who are worthy of close friendship.The days spent with the ring were enough for Vijorel to observe each vampire in detail.

There's so much filth in this race that even accepting each other's crude or pathological "hobbies" still can't function as a group.

Vijorel took off the ring and disappeared into the hall.

The blood cemetery is placed on the border of the forbidden area and the jungle.It is bordered by the largest sea in Weisennuoer in the west, and a lush and deep jungle in the east.There is no sandy beach here, only huge blue-gray stones piled up to form uneven land.Every time the sea breeze passes by, some stone powder will be blown away, leaving traces.

The tombstones were built according to the terrain, and the erected stone monuments made this area look more like the ruins of ghost land where no one survived.

There are layers of formations on the periphery of the cemetery, and even blood races will not be willing to enter and exit.Only after the noble enough Patriarch passed away, the coffin would be sent to be buried here.

Just like the forbidden place where the vampires live, the cemetery has no daylight, and the dark red sky hangs over the head forever, like a sonata before the slaughter.

This area that has been quiet for a hundred years is now crowded with people, without respect for the dead, and without the melancholy of mourning.Laughter, applause, and shouts mixed together, playing music for the mob.

There are no human beings here, no half-dead walking corpses, not even "half-legged people" who have been transformed into vampires through divine blood.There are only the purest blood races here.

They surround each other in the dark night, wrapping the "prey" in the middle.In the high and excited shouts and the ferocious arc of the mouth, there is a salty sea breeze and a strong smell of blood.

Some people are happy because of atrocities, and some people covet because of hunger.

After the carnival, an old man in a platinum holy robe came stepping on the tombstones of blood clans of all ages. His steps were steady and his figure was tall and straight. Apart from his aging skin full of wrinkles, he was far from aging.

With his usual pity and compassion, Gavin looked at the "prey" surrounded by vampires.

"Is this your sincerity?" Gavin looked at the group of vampires.Almost all blood races have injuries on their bodies, some are half an arm, some are a piece of shoulder.Claws cut through them sharply, inflicting anything but mortal wounds.

Three generations of vampires are not easy to deal with, let alone two.

Gavin looked at his prey with great interest, it was almost a mass covered in flesh and blood, the facial features and limbs could barely be distinguished, and the rest could not be discerned.

If I remember the name correctly, this is the new king of the blood race—Adrian.

He was pushed to the throne in one fell swoop by his bloodthirsty clansmen, and then pulled down by everyone, and paid to the new king to show his sincerity.

It sounds really ridiculous.Gavin smiled coldly, not only for Adrian, but also for the group of wild wolves who were moved by the scent.

The creed implemented by Vijorel and his henchmen is not enough to govern the blood race. Without absolute strength and cruel tyranny, one day they will be dragged off the throne.

Gavin licked his lips.

The smell of flesh made him hungry.Not thirsty like a vampire, but really hungry.

He needs to eat food, whether it is Adrian, Cole who is pressed to the ground in the distance, or every vampire present, they will become delicacies on his table from now to the future.

"We have entrusted you with the new king as promised to show our determination to change." A well-dressed young man stood up, "Although the blood race that has not rebelled fled, it will be caught after the change. What about your promise? "

Gavin half squatted down, squatting down in front of the old king who exuded the smell of death, and was very interested in the tender flesh under the bloodstains.

This one looks even tastier than the last one.

"Wait for me to finish my lunch." He stretched out his hand, but a short dagger was held in front of his eyes.

The young man squinted at him, his fangs slightly exposed: "Keep your promise, Gavin."

Gavin stood up with some regret, and uttered a spell.The sound of breaking through the air sounded with the ancient spell.

In an instant, the dagger with jeweled tail shot out, pierced the head from the back of the head, and emerged from the mouth.

The sharp weapon cut through the flesh decisively and quickly, and a few drops of dark red blood splashed on the clothes of the man next to him.

"Hehe—" Gavin laughed out loud with the dagger in his mouth, and pulled out the dagger bit by bit, "Vecjorel, I knew you would come. My favorite prey."

On the boulder, Vijorel looked around at all the vampires present, and the dragon stared at them as if recording the last face of the dead.

"Gavin! What about your promise!" The young man and several other nobles felt guilty and shouted in panic.

Gavin fiddled with the dagger, staring closely at Vijorel as he finished reciting the spell.

The sea breeze blows and nothing happens.

Gavin's complexion changed a little.

"Eddie Toland." Vijorel said quietly, raised his right hand, and caressed the quaint ring.

The young man swallowed hard when he heard his name, looked at the gloomy Gavin, and forced an ugly smile: "Your Majesty... Your Majesty! It was Gavin who tempted me. He used mind reading and illusions..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie's neck twisted 180 degrees, then split from a certain point, and fell to the ground.

Gavin stared at the ring: "I own part of the right to use the ring. The desire and blood that should be released have come to the convert. Vijorel, the era of the old blood is over."

"Desire? Bloodline? Since you are so eager for these boring things, I will return them one by one." Vijorel chuckled, took off the ring, rubbed his fingers lightly under the watchful eyes of all the vampires, and put the delicate Men's rings are crushed to pieces.

In an instant, the vampires were thinking of the return of the "controlled" blood and desire, and what followed was a terrifying coercion.

Not simply greed or lust//lust, but pure killing.Not angry, nor happy about it.

No blood race knows that this kind of emotion is called disappointment.

Vijorel spread his palms, and the dust floated out of his hands, like a group of people who have passed away.

Gavin sensed something was wrong and wanted to get away, a fist-sized blood hole appeared in his chest in the next second, Gavin turned his head to stare at Vijorel, the corners of his lips curled up, and disappeared like a phantom.

The rest of the vampires present felt the coercion from their bloodlines and strength, and just seeing Vjorel standing here made them feel terrified.

In the cumulative observation, all worldly desires turn into aversions to one's own kind.The ring not only controls a trace of the blood of the Patriarchs, but also controls all of Vijorel's desires. The moment the ring was shattered, Vijorel, who lived as a vampire, truly woke up.

His eyes swept over Adrian who was curled up at his feet, and he slowly smiled, and issued a sentence to all the blood clans who betrayed the ethnic group: "Those who betray the ethnic group will be sentenced to death."

Outside the enchantment of the cemetery, hunters and priests were waiting in full battle. A few hours ago, they felt the call of the "God". According to the Pope's order, they should break through the enchantment to hunt the blood race.

however……

The leading hunter stared at the relaxed looking man opposite with scarlet eyes, almost wanting to crush his bones.

This vampire was terribly difficult to deal with, and he could instantly detect any movement and easily twist the neck of one of them.The Hallows had no effect on him.The strongest Transformer could only leave a scratch on the back of his hand, and then his neck was cut off and thrown aside.

"Who the hell are you! What do you want?" the hunter asked through gritted teeth.

The corner of the man's mouth curled up, and he threw a twig casually, inserting it into the heart of the hunter who was attacking from the side: "Waldron, few humans have heard my name."

Waldron stood up leisurely, carefully sniffing the air coming out of the barrier, and said, "The cleaning inside is over, now it's my turn."

The hunter had a bad instinct and immediately raised his gun.

"Kacha——" The half-heated gun barrel was broken, and the bones of the soldiers behind him were broken together with it.

Waldron played with the bullets he had snatched, and stared at the remaining humans.

His eye pupils were covered with a layer of dark red gray, like a demon descended from hell: "I only kill the dirty products that disturb the bloodlines of the vampires. As for you, either go back to your church early and listen to God's reprimand, or Stay here and let me rip your throats out."

The hunter couldn't move because of fright, he held the dagger tightly: "What are you going to do..."

Waldron gave him a cold look: "The housework of the vampire does not require human intervention."

within the boundary.

The boulders and steles were stained with blood, seeping into the inscriptions and the scattered white wildflowers in front of the tombstones.

The sea breeze blew past again, blowing away the bloody smell that was almost condensed into substance.

Vijorel shook off the internal organs from his hands in disgust, and squatted down in front of Cole who was leaning on the stone tablet.

His blood-stained wrist was clenched, and the slippery touch wasted Cole's strength.

"Adrian..."

Vijorel put his index finger to his lips, and put the other palm on Cole's eyes: "Adrian will be back."

Waldron watched him from a distance until Cole slowly fell asleep, and Vijorel also fell because of the overdraft.

Sticky footsteps sounded a few times, and Waldron hugged Vijorel before he got more sticky blood.

The air moves slowly.

Waldron took a leisurely breath, and obtained almost all the same kind of breath in it.

This is Vijorel, an executioner who doesn't need to think, an incorrigible madman.

Waldron sighed. He wasn't very happy.