Chapter 3031: Blood‑Stained Addiction 07

Saiyin still couldn't suppress his inner craving; he easily pulled open Jin Chen's already loose robe, his sharp fangs sinking into the shoulder, blood pouring out.

For several hundred years, no, perhaps since Saiyin was forcibly transformed by that dark ritual, gaining immortality in a twisted way, his world has lost its flavor; he has never known what true deliciousness feels like.

As the foremost of the seven counts, Count Strandle possessed supreme power and status, countless blood servants and attendants, the most exquisite silverware, and the most meticulous blood‑letting rites. Yet all of this was futile; to him, blood was merely sustenance for his immortal body, a helpless measure to ease the incessant burning.

He had tasted the blood of countless humans, premium blood aroma, mixed blood, even that of low‑rank kin, yet none could reach his numb, deadened palate, let alone bring any enjoyment—no satisfaction, no pleasure, only an eternal, unfillable void and a growing, uncontainable savagery with nowhere to vent.

Saiyin once thought this was the fate of the highest vampires, a curse he must endure because of that special transformation.

Until now.

The liquid flooding his mouth was scalding, fresh, sweet, as if nourishing a craving long dormant. Not only was his appetite sated in a torrential rush, but the hidden ache and emptiness that had haunted him for centuries also found relief.

That was pleasure.

A thrilling, uncontrollable pleasure.

Saiyin's fingers, gripping Jin Chen's shoulder, tightened unconsciously, fingertips sinking deep into the warm flesh; he closed his eyes, his porcelain cheeks flushing a faint crimson, a pale pink tinting his neck, the hue so ambiguous that in the candle‑flickering room it revealed a decadent, fragile beauty.

His body trembled slightly in Jin Chen's embrace, lost in this redeeming‑like plunder of feeding.

Jin Chen felt his blood being drawn out bit by bit, a tingling numbness, not painful.

He tilted his head slightly, lowered his gaze to the count nestled in his arms, raised an eyebrow lightly—realizing what it felt like to be drained, and the drinker's reaction… seemed even more intriguing. The lofty, fear‑inspiring Count Strandle, now curled in his embrace, cheeks flushed, body trembling, looked quite obedient.

"Why are you trembling?"

Jin Chen whispered the question, lifted his unbound hand, gently brushed away the few strands of Saiyin's forehead hair dampened with thin sweat, and pressed against the appealing crimson at the corners of Saiyin's eyes.

Jin Chen gazed at him thoughtfully, wondering, "Do vampires have this reaction when they feed? How oddly ambiguous."

He recalled the rumors circulating among blood servants: that being bitten could produce a feeling akin to bliss, that vampire nobles often possessed captivating looks and bearing, and that many blood servants inevitably fell hopelessly in love with the masters whose blood they drank.

Jin Chen understood—those blood servants were likely bewitched by the atmosphere during feeding, beguiled by the vulnerability the vampires displayed when sated, thus forming an illusion that it was love.

He completely misunderstood. He took Saiyin's extreme reaction, stemming from a soul‑deep resonance, as a common phenomenon of vampire feeding.

Jin Chen had no idea that, for the vast majority of blood servants, being bitten meant pain, fear, weakness, and an irresistible sense of humility and despair before a higher being.

Saiyin gulped hurriedly, as if trying to seize every warmth and sweetness in this body to fill the abyss that had been ignited suddenly yet seemed forever unfillable.

A droplet of crimson blood seeped from the edge where the fangs had pierced, tracing down Jin Chen's shoulder skin and disappearing into the slightly opened collar of his robe.

Instantly, that strange, alluring blood scent spread, rich and sweet, more intoxicating than the most fragrant rose.

On the floor, the two kneeling blood servants shuddered, simultaneously lifting their heads; on their pallid, numb faces appeared an unmistakable distorted expression for the first time, their throats convulsing, their fangs jutting uncontrollably past their lips, their gazes toward Jin Chen brimming with naked greed.

That was the most instinctive reaction of low‑rank vampires confronted with an irresistible supreme delicacy.

Meanwhile, the purple‑robed figure in the corner fared worse; he could smell the blood's sweetness surpassing anything he had inhaled in centuries, the aroma piercing his nostrils, urging him to rush forward, urging him to seize it.

Yet stronger than this temptation and more despair‑inducing was the icy, ferocious aura emanating from Count Strandle.

Hearing the count swallow blood, the purple‑robed man had no doubt that any hint of a grab would turn him into another stain on the floor within a second; he had to leave, for the count was clearly utterly absorbed in this unexpected feast, and today there would likely be no time to discuss the unfinished matter with him.

The two blood servants on the floor also prostrated themselves deeply toward the throne, backing away without daring to raise their heads, fleeing the room that left them both terrified and craving to the point of madness.

Deep‑red curtains draped beside the window, the whole room bathed in an ambiguous warm hue, like a scene from an ancient oil painting.

Saiyin still lay in Jin Chen's arms, his swallowing slowed considerably, shifting from greedy grasping to savoring, unwilling to awaken from a satiety he had never experienced.

Jin Chen's curiosity had been preliminarily answered, and he felt pleased; he let Saiyin feed a bit longer, then, when he felt it was enough, lazily turned his head to the other side, lifted his hand, and gently pushed with his forefinger against Saiyin's head still buried in his shoulder.

"My lord Count, you're about to drain me dry."

Saiyin slowly lifted his head, his blood‑tinged pupils suffused with lingering desire and satiation, hazy yet dangerous.

A smear of vivid crimson still lingered at the corner of his lips—Jin Chen's blood—he instinctively flicked his tongue out, slowly licking the hue into his mouth, savoring it finely as his Adam's apple rolled with satisfaction.

Saiyin locked eyes with Jin Chen, gazing into those deep‑star‑sky eyes, and said, "I will give you the finest elixir; I will not let you die."

Saiyin lowered his head, bringing his lips back to Jin Chen's shoulder—then his face was pinched.

Jin Chen furrowed his brows slightly, a hint of worry showing on his face as he gazed at Saiyin's unsatisfied, restless crimson eyes.

"Just endure a little longer, my lord." He sighed, as if teaching a spoiled child, "Can't you even manage that?"

Saiyin: "……"

For a moment, Saiyin wondered whether he was hallucinating from drinking too much blood.

This vile, audacious mixed‑blood human, after offering his blood, not only pushed him away but also pinched his face, speaking to him in that tone.

Audacious mixed‑blood human!

No one had ever dared to treat him thus—not even the other counts, who would restrain their sharpness in his presence.

The savagery that had just been soothed a little by the blood flared up again, fueled by this lingering unsatisfied craving and the unprecedented affront, now even more infuriating than before.