Chapter 3049: Blood‑Stained Addiction 25

The importance of the Blood Moon Festival to the vampire clan, who indulge in eternal night and drive away their long loneliness with feasts and joy, goes without saying. Thus, on the eve of the festival, the Eternal Night Castle is more bustling than ever, yet also filled with oppression.

The noble vampire clans scattered across the continent, attached to the Seven Counts or ancient families, like bats catching the scent of blood, set out in droves from their territories, lairs, or secret pleasure grounds, converging upon this dark center symbolizing supreme authority.

Everything seems to be preparing for the imminent grand revelry and ancient rite.

However, on the eve of the festival, a piece of news that disrupted every rhythm arrived at the castle.

The side hall was in disarray; the heavy black oak long table leaned askew against the wall, the tablecloth dangled down, dragging the exquisite carvings and utensils onto the floor.

Count Malaji, famed as the strongest in combat and possessing the coldest, strangest temperament, pressed his fingers tightly against his chest; his deep green eyes rarely showed alarm and discomfort, and even the corner of his mouth retained an un-wiped dark red stain—clearly, the blood he had drunk that morning almost came back up under the recent mountain‑like pressure.

Even as formidable as Count Malaji, he could not fully withstand the unrestrained burst of pressure emanating from Count Saiyin·Sitelande in his fury.

Not only him—every blood servant standing in the side hall, slaves of various races, had already turned pallid and knelt on the floor, pressing their foreheads deep into the cold ground. Those of slightly higher rank, the confidants or high‑ranking stewards of the various counts, likewise dared not stand, barely maintaining a bent posture as they lowered their heads toward the lofty throne at the far end of the room, showing absolute reverence and submission.

Likewise, the other six of the Seven Counts, without exception, now slightly inclined their bodies toward the throne, their posture unprecedentedly solemn.

Nobody would fail to fear the Count Strand in his rage.

What's more, this matter also involves the Elder Council.

The Vampire Elder Council, an ancient organization that once shared rule of vampirekind with the Seven Counts during the long ages when Prince Jiaxia hardly appeared, had, three hundred years ago, made a decision that the Counts such as Saiyin·Sitelande regarded as a grave mistake—one that could even jeopardize the very survival of the vampire race.

Ultimately, after a bloodless yet equally ruthless power struggle, the Elder Council was jointly deposed by the Counts led by Saiyin·Sitelande; its power was drastically curtailed and stripped, and most of its members went into hiding or fell into silence.

Now, the Elder Council has chosen to appear precisely at this extremely sensitive moment of the Blood Moon Festival.

This is far more than mere attendance; it is an outright provocation, brazenly challenging the authority of the Seven Counts before all vampire nobility, attempting to reclaim the lost decision‑making power, and who knows what else they intend to do in the Eternal Night Castle at this crucial festival.

This is the root cause of Count Saiyin·Sitelande's sudden fury, even bringing him to the brink of losing control.

In this suffocating pressure, the old butler Aidejia barely found a gap, using the pretext of gathering further information on the Elder Council's whereabouts, he backed out of the side hall's main gate.

Once outside, the old butler hurried toward some underground direction of the castle with a speed utterly mismatched to his age and appearance.

……

When Jin Chen was practically dragged by Aidejia to outside the side hall door, the old butler could not clearly explain what had happened, merely repeating over and over that Count Saiyin·Sitelande's condition was very poor.

The side hall door was pushed open again.

The six counts who had been slightly bowing toward the upper seat almost simultaneously glanced back instinctively, their eyes showing various expressions.

Upon the throne, Count Saiyin·Sitelande lifted his gaze, his eyes swirling with violent blood‑red pupils, and snapped his look toward the doorway; the moment his sight met Jin Chen, he startled slightly.

What made everyone else find it even harder to believe was that the blood‑thirsty pressure that had been weighing on their souls, just as it was about to reach Jin Chen, actually… slowly withdrew.

Jin Chen seemed to sense something; he merely glanced at the chaotic scene inside the hall and the various races kneeling on the floor, then gave a slight nod to the six counts as a greeting.

Feierwen's heart rose.

He still hadn't figured out exactly what relation Jin Chen had with His Majesty, but he didn't want, at this critical juncture, for Jin Chen's human body to be accidentally killed by the furious Count Saiyin·Sitelande…

Feierwen tried to signal with his eyes for Jin Chen to leave first, but Jin Chen already walked straight toward the high platform without looking aside.

He simply walked across the disordered floor, through the kneeling, trembling crowd, past the six counts with their varied expressions, and went straight up to before the throne.

Beneath the steps lay a cold corpse—a hulking, ferocious orc whose chest bore a massive blood‑hole, his heart gone, dark‑red blood spattered all over the ground.

This was a messenger sent by the Elder Council to deliver a letter, but in truth a provocation, and the spark that ignited Count Saiyin·Sitelande's raging fury.

So, with this corpse lying beneath the throne, the instigator is naturally……

Jin Chen then followed his gaze to the throne‑bound Count Saiyin·Sitelande, his eyes falling on the hand hanging beside the armrest.

Seeing Jin Chen approach, Count Saiyin·Sitelande's violent blood‑eyes eased a little, giving way to a complex mix of irritation and grievance, and he reached to take Jin Chen's hand.

However, at the instant his hand was about to touch Jin Chen's, Jin Chen withdrew his hand without leaving a trace.

Count Saiyin·Sitelande: "？"

At this moment the atmosphere in the side hall was already strange enough—the count in fury, the messenger dead miserably, everyone silent as cicadas.

Seeing Jin Chen still dare to do this, everyone who furtively lifted their eyelids to peek felt their hearts rise to their throats.

This blood servant…… does he even know what he's doing!?

Jin Chen, however, remained oblivious, merely furrowing his brow slightly as his gaze fell on the count's hand stiff in mid‑air, fingertips still bearing a suspicious stain; his expression was a subtle disgust.

He used his index finger and thumb with extreme care, pinching only the fingertips around the count's wrist to lift his hand, then looked at the count's other hand—equally pale and slender, with no sign of whether it was clean.

Jin Chen raised his eyes to the count and asked, "Which hand pulled out the heart?"

What on earth is this blood servant asking!?

All the other races present, including the six counts, found it utterly bizarre, even somewhat absurd.