The protagonist wants to steal my script again

An Minghui chose a piano piece with a slow rhythm and low difficulty. During the performance, he secretly turned his head to observe the reactions of the Normans. He relaxed a little when he saw that they didn't show doubts or doubts. down.

Press the last note of the music with his thumb, and in the coda that marked the end, An Minghui turned his head and asked with a smile: "Do you want to continue playing?"

"No need." Norman's expression softened a little, but he still looked very gloomy. He raised his finger impatiently and pointed in the direction of the basement. how's it going."

"As you order, Your Royal Highness."

After getting up and saluting, An Minghui smoothed the small folds of the tuxedo on his body, turned around and walked towards the basement with steady steps.

He felt that the place was not so much a basement as a dungeon.

Sometimes these cruel and arrogant vampires will torture their enemies there, and the methods are extremely cruel, but today it is the protagonist of this world who enjoys this treatment.

Just the night before, the vampire hunter had a fierce battle with Norman and several accompanying attendants. Although the result of the battle was that Effiete was captured by them and put in a dungeon, An Minghui didn't think it was him. lost.

Even, from the current level of calmness of the two sides, Norman's side is more like a loser.

How should I put it, he thinks it would be difficult without extraordinary courage and adaptability to take away the family treasure carried by the enemy leader while falling into the enemy's hands, and then throw it to his own eagle to take it away do it.

The blood beads of the Childe family are formed by the coagulation of the blood of the first family head, and have been kept by the head of the family. It can be said to be a symbol of the supremacy of the entire family. Now it is taken away by a vampire hunter, which can be said to be a slap in the face. in Norman's face.

The blood races are arrogant and self-proclaimed noble, and at certain times they value some traditions that are more formal.

As long as they killed Effie, they would never be able to find the blood bead taken away by the eagle. Even if they wanted to break the mind of this cunning human being through criminal law, they still couldn't do it.In fact, everyone knew that there was no point in continuing this stalemate. As long as the blood beads were not found, they would have nothing to do with this human being whom they hated so much.

Silently recalling these things in his heart, An Minghui picked up an oil lamp before entering the dungeon, holding the lamp in his hand that quietly emitted warm light, and walked down the dark and cold dungeon step by step along the steps.

The vampire's keen five senses allowed him to clearly hear the sound of whipping from below, as well as the violent and impatient scolding of the vampire in charge of torture, but he could not hear the painful cry of the whipped person.

The blood clan with the whip in his hand was Norman's subordinate like him. When he came down, he greeted him with a dull expression, then turned his head to avoid the light from the oil lamp in his hand: "Ann? It's the prince." Your Highness asked you to come and see this way?"

There was no light in the basement at first, because the vampires themselves could see in the dark, and the second was because this kind of darkness, where the hands and fingers could not be stretched out, was a terrible mental torture for human beings.

"Yes, but it seems that the situation is not very good." He smiled, looking casually at the man chained to the wall. The man was covered in blood and his clothes were only in tatters. Hanging on the body, the blond hair that was just over the shoulder length was also stained with blood and stuck to the cheeks and neck in strands, so that the original appearance could not be seen at all.

Seeing the protagonist's bloody fingertips after their nails were pulled out, An Minghui frowned unconsciously, and immediately restored his original calm and elegant smile: "Joel, our guest seems a little stubborn. "

"Yeah, it's really disgusting." Joel sneered, sitting on the chair with his legs crossed, impatiently raised his hand so that the thorny whip in his hand hit the head of the human in front of him heavily. It makes people shudder, but the person who was really beaten is still silent.

"..." It was too bloody and cruel. Even though An Ming knew it in his heart before he came down, he still felt a little uncomfortable when he saw it now, so he put the oil lamp on the table and walked to Joel in a natural manner. , "You don't seem to like this job very much, then let me try it."

Joel was eager to throw away this hot potato, so he handed him the whip in his hand very simply, and he did not forget to ask: "Just don't beat it to death."

"Thank you for the reminder, I will pay attention." He carefully looked at the blood-stained whip in his hand, then frowned, threw it aside in disgust, turned around and took another whip with a smoother surface from the torture rack. , Not so many spiked whips, "Excuse me, I don't like touching those dirty things very much."

"Haha, I knew you would dislike him, but this guy has very hard bones, and the one in your hand is enough to serve him well."

"You have to try to know if you can do it."

Talking jokingly with his colleagues, An Minghui walked in front of the dying human with calm and elegant steps, held the whip in his backhand, and gently lifted the opponent's hand with the tip of his index finger wrapped in white gloves. Chin, and only then did he see those jewel-like clear and beautiful azure eyes.

He was obviously about to be beaten to death, but there was still no trace of fear in those eyes, and even after passively raising his head, he raised the corners of his mouth with difficulty, showing a very inconspicuous smile at him.

To be honest, at this time, this expression does look quite mocking, no wonder Joel is so angry.

"I never imagined that one day I would have the honor of communicating face to face with the famous Mr. Effiert." Saying this, An Minghui raised his other hand, which was also wearing a white glove, and held a clean white handkerchief Gently wiped off the blood on Effiete's face little by little, revealing that handsome and charming face, and then thoughtfully arranged his hair so that it no longer covered his face, "Please allow me to help you a little To sort it out, a good gentleman shouldn't make himself look so outrageous."

Joel sat on a chair with his chin propped up, watching An Minghui tidy up the appearance of the human in front of him, and sneered as if anticipating the next development.

Sure enough, in the next second, An Minghui threw the blood-stained handkerchief in his hand on the ground, took it off and discarded it together with the gloves, then took out new gloves from his pocket, and put them on slowly. Tell Joel: "Please call a few slaves to clean up these dirty garbage later, I really don't want to touch it again."

The disgusted tone, as if these things on the ground, together with the human beings he had just treated tenderly, were all dirty existences that made him feel extremely disgusted, and he felt sick to his stomach even if he took a second look.

Unbearably waving his hand, Joel said expectantly: "I knew what you were going to say, your habit of hating dirty things can never be changed."

"Thank you for your understanding." An Ming thanked with a dark smile, then flicked the whip in his hand, making it make a sharp cracking sound, and at the same time turned around and looked softly at Effie, who was much cleaner Te, but with a horrific word on his mouth, "Then Mr. Effitter, we can almost start."

Effie didn't have the strength to raise his head anymore, and now he only tilted his head slightly, half-opened his eyes and looked at the gentle and friendly demon in front of him, smiled again, and said in a very hoarse voice: "I should... Thank you for your... hospitality?"

The hunter thought in his heart: No matter how soft and beautiful the illusion is, a vampire is still a vampire, and he is still cold and cruel in his bones.

"You're welcome." He smiled hypocritically, and he responded without shame to the words of thanks that were originally a question, "If you are willing to take the initiative to hand over the things that belong to the blood race, I don't have to do this anymore Treated you disrespectfully."

No matter how realistic the acting can be, An Minghui always admits that he is still not a qualified villain, and he can't torture an innocent person covered in bruises, and it is precisely because of this that he took the initiative to take over. Originally belonged to Joel's work.

He raised and lowered the whip, and controlled his own strength. He was quite sure that the whip might still be uncomfortable, but at least it was much easier to bear than letting Joel do it himself.

After all, it was so hurt that even if it was touched lightly, it would be unbearably stinging, not to mention that he was using a whip.

Both An Minghui and Joel are well aware of the strength of Effiete's willpower and endurance. One of them pretended to whip, and the other intentionally watched a show, but no one really expected that this level of torture would make him suffer. Even Effie let out a cry of pain.

In fact, it was true, once the whip went down, there was no other response except for the sound of the whip touching the skin, and the man was still hanging there silently like a dead person.

"What a strong willpower, I can't help but want to praise you." Saying such nonsense and delaying time, An Ming looked at the person in front of him, swung his whip again and changed the subject, "I can't think of you For human beings, which are as dirty and inferior as livestock, can be so tenacious."

To his complete surprise, when the whip hit the skin this time, Effiete blurted out a weak and hoarse cry.

That voice sounded a little bit like a cry of pain, but the tone was a bit twisted and upward, almost immediately reminiscent of some kind of ambiguous sound that would only be made in a specific environment.

Holding the whip in his hand, An Minghui didn't know whether to beat it again: "..."

Joel subconsciously raised his hand and picked his ears: "..."

The torture room was eerily quiet for a moment, the flames in the oil lamp danced quietly, casting Anming's dark shadows on the wall.

In the end, it was Joel who hesitated and broke the silence: "It seems that my method is different from mine. It's quite... useful. Are you... still fighting?"

An Minghui: "...can you please stop talking to me for now?"

Inexplicably, it feels like he has been humiliated. Is it his illusion?