murder poppy

The silent basement of the library seems to be celebrating Christmas these days.

Bat statues replaced star decorations, dark red candles replaced red ribbons, and colorfully decorated Christmas trees became bare inverted crosses.The gift box beneath it turns into a winding vine.

The banquet hall is more grand than last time.

Derek was teasing the newborn bat in the dark, a faint light was missing from the empty hall, and an elongated shadow appeared in the light.

"Your Majesty, please, Prince Derek." The little bat paced around, as if his master on crutches had come in person, his shiny eyes were abnormally cold, and his fluffy fur was barely warm.

Derek stood up and saluted the little bat: "Of order."

"Clap."

The long piece of wood carried by the little bat's wings fell to the ground and rolled down to the bottom of the high platform.

"This is part of your reward. I hope Mr. Derek will not disappoint His Majesty."

The head of the wood is sharpened, the second half has not been polished, the dead bark is engraved with strange characters, and the black dried blood stains extend to the middle before gradually disappearing.

This is a piece of wood.

Derek knew this piece of wood, not long ago he broke into the jungle with this piece of wood, and completed his lifelong pursuit.

The stake was picked up, and Derek stroked the blood-stained wood like a baby, and said with a smile, "Your Majesty will be satisfied."

The bat gave him a cold look, obviously not trusting his sincerity, spread its wings and flew out of the gate.

Derek put away the stake carefully and followed the bat slowly.

The door of the house at the corner of the corridor was open. After the carpet was rubbed, new bloodstains were piled on top of the old ones, like a rose with petals.

The next layer is dry and corrupt, and the upper layer is bright and dripping.

Perhaps it was a psychological effect, Derek always felt that there was the familiar smell of blood in the air, which was wonderful and sweet.

Vijorel faced the window, his long figure turned away from all the blood and cruelty, it seemed that only the soft light and the old bookshelf belonged to him.

"Your Majesty." Derek bowed.

Vijorel turned around, his eyes glanced at Derek's bulging clothes intentionally or unintentionally, "I got it."

"Thank you for the reward, Your Majesty." Derek rubbed the wooden stake through the fabric, "At the same time, Your Majesty should believe in Andre's death. After all, you did it yourself this time."

Derek watched Vijorel playfully, trying to find the slightest flaw in his face, but he failed.

Killing an old friend doesn't seem like a farewell to the blood race.

"You are more decisive, more courageous, and... more cruel than I imagined." Derek smiled, as if admiring Vijorel very much.

"You talk more nonsense than I thought," Vijorel said.

Derek was noncommittal, but shut his mouth wisely and ended the conversation.He looked around, calmly distinguishing the slightly complicated smells in the air.

There is a smell of blood here, and they belong to two people, Andre and Brandy.There were other smells, but the one on Vijorel was almost invisible.

"It's a pity, Baron Brandy." Derek said without thinking, which attracted Vijorel's cold gaze.

"Don't look at me like that, Your Majesty, I need some insurance before the deal is over. Surveillance is one of the friendliest ways."

Vijorel sneered: "You do have some talents, when did you discover my illusion?"

"Before entering the door," Derek said, "Brandy thought highly of himself, but he was a complete coward. His strategy and cruelty were all on the surface, and under the surface, it was just a puddle of mud. He didn't Dare to look at me with that resentful look."

"Your Majesty, no vampire can see through your illusions. You are wrong because you overestimated the courage of the vampire." Derek glanced at the blood on the carpet and said mockingly, "when such a person occupies the vampire, we are raised in a greenhouse. A useless beast with nothing but low brains and desires."

"But you are different, you solved my surveillance tool, didn't you? Mmmm... smashed to pieces, I like that decisive approach." Derek praised.

"You remember wrong, Derek." Vijoler said: "Baron Brandy died in the line of duty, and was pierced through the heart with a silver gun by a hunter who sneaked into the blood clan."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Derek smiled indifferently.

"You talk too much nonsense, about the production scroll of the blood of the gods." Vijorel spread his hands, motioning for Derek to hand over the chips.

"Part." Derek readily took out a roll of parchment and handed it to Vijorel.

The scroll is dilapidated and illegible, and it introduces the expected function and test direction of the blood of the gods.

"If you don't obtain offspring through the first embrace, the success rate of day walkers with some bloodlines is higher. After transformation, the bloodlines will be confused and manic." Lyons read the last paragraph of conclusion, frowning, "This is not complete Taste."

"Don't worry, Your Majesty." Derek said, "The higher the bloodline transformation, the higher the sanity will be retained. After a certain limit, the confusion and mania will disappear. This is what I have achieved. At present, Datura has specific cultivation methods and supply channels for day walkers. These blood races worship 'gods' very much, and they are much easier to control than those noble princes."

Vijorel's expression turned pale, and he closed the parchment with a snap and said, "I need more news about the blood of the gods. This thing is not even worth the stake in your pocket."

"Of course my bargaining chips are not limited to these things." Derek was at ease, "Compared with methods and information, what is more practical is the real thing, isn't it?"

"Being the 'god' of this group of idiots is really exhausting. I am willing to hand over the entire Mandala Association to Your Majesty."

Derek bowed sincerely and respectfully as he said.But Vijorel is not a pure white butterfly in summer who will believe in pitcher plants with sharp teeth.

Loyalty, fear, and respect are all masks on Derek's skin. Since Derek chooses to live as a member of the blood family, everything about him belongs to the blood family.It was easy for Vijorel to want the Mandala Guild.

Instead of being forcibly deprived, actively donating can sell a favor.

Once the prince is established, unless he violates the family rules or dies, no one can get rid of the prince in other names, and Derek's life safety can be guaranteed.

The Mandala Guild has been exposed. To Derek, staying here is like being a groundhog hiding in the ground by its tail and exposing it to the air. There is no nest and no darkness. How can he feel at ease.

The Mandala Guild seems to be a gift, but it is actually the broken tail of the gecko. Derek, who is alone, is the executioner Derek.

"Very sincere." Vijorel raised the corners of his mouth and looked at Derek.

The king of the blood clan is a monster who can't laugh. He is like an ice sculpture in a snowy field, delicate and lifeless.

A man who never smiles suddenly becomes incomparably stunning when he laughs, and Vijorel is that kind of person.

But his smile was by no means kind. Vijorel looked at Derek and said, "You seem very sure that the elders of the blood race will recognize the existence of divine blood."

"The blood race has existed longer than you think. The First Embrace is a curse given by Satan to the blood race. It is difficult for us to have children, and the mother will be killed by the child. The birth of every blood race is accompanied by death. Either the past self dies, or Mother died." Vijorel said slowly, as if reciting an ancient curse.

"Those daywalkers created by the blood of God are neither human nor vampire. They are just more like monsters. They still need sunlight and food, and need to sleep at night. They yearn for blood and are afraid of raw food." Wei Qiao Lyle said coldly, "Is this the new blood you mentioned, Derek?"

"Has the Blood Emperor repented?" Derek frowned and asked.

"The king of the blood race never backs down." Vijorel said, Derek fell silent, and heard the tone of disdain and pity in the indifference, "How many ways do you think you can kill the blood race?"

Vijorel didn't wait for Derek's answer, and continued: "Silver guns, stakes, burning, sealing, and curses. Did I miss anything?"

Talking to himself, he changed from Derek to Vijorel.

The actors were kicked off the stage and "appreciated" other people's performances in the auditorium, which made Derek look ugly and resolutely did not allow himself to be led by the nose by Vijorel.

Vijorel's modest inquiry was rejected, and he retracted his eyes tolerantly, and continued: "Every item is painful, tormented, and brings an end to us who live forever."

"I have tasted every taste, and I want to know how it feels to die," Vijorel said with a cold face, looking at Derek every word with sarcasm, "Unfortunately, I am still alive and well."

Derek looked unpredictable, staring at Vijorel as if aware of something.

The king of the blood clan is the most powerful vampire. He can recite the oldest spells and the most powerful illusions. He has excellent fighting skills. No one can defeat Vijorel.

In Vijorel's long years, he rarely smelled his own blood.

The king of the blood clan has never faced death.

No vampire, save the Blood King, has survived the spear, the stake, the burning, the sealing, and the curse.

Everything here is an excellent death choice, every ease or ease, they provide the highest pain for the vampires, and decorate the dying dance for death.

But Derek knows that there is a person who is so "lucky" that he is constantly looking for death, but he can never wait for the scythe of death.

He had lived with this man for many years, and even now carried a stake in his side pocket that was driven into the man's chest.

"Vijorel" looked at Derek with extra gentleness, as if he were looking at a child misbehaving, or a dying old man.

Pity and contempt.

Derek was too familiar with this look, he gritted his teeth, stared at Vijorel who was smiling wantonly with red eyes, and the words pierced through his throat, as if bleeding.

"You're not dead, Andre King Rogue."