Chapter 3050: Blood‑Stained Addiction 26

But Saiyin had reacted, oh, Jin Chen has a cleanliness habit.

Even if the bedding gets a little dirty, he demands a new room to sleep, and he won't share a coffin with him—truly hard to keep.

Saiyin Marquis's thoughts wandered unavoidably, recalling some intimate details, then he gave a light cough, snapping out of those inappropriate images; his face showed no trace of the earlier fury, only a feigned coldness as he turned away, his voice tight: "I didn't use my hands."

Jin Chen then let out an "oh", relieved, loosened his grip on Saiyin's wrist, then took hold of the hand Saiyin had once disliked, gently pinching his fingertips.

He leaned slightly, his silver hair falling from his shoulders to brush Saiyin's cheek and neck, asking, "So what has made our adorable Marquis so angry?"

Saiyin really did feel a bit wronged for no reason, he turned sideways and glanced at the annoying clutter in the side hall.

Yuege lifted her brows slightly, spoke softly, her voice ethereal as before: "If that's the case… we won't disturb you, hoping Saiyin you can come up with a plan to deal with the Elder Council."

The other Marquis also nodded in understanding, again bowing slightly toward Saiyin.

The Marquis left, and the blood servants and slaves kneeling on the floor hurriedly rose, heads bowed, quickly cleaning up the mess, then filed out.

When only the two of them remained in the side hall, Saiyin somewhat urgently pressed the standing Jin Chen onto his throne to sit, then shifted to squeeze into Jin Chen's embrace, found a comfortable pose, and buried his face in Jin Chen's neck.

The Marquis expressed his displeasure with a sucking kiss, his fangs grazing the skin, his arm around Jin Chen's waist, his body pressed close.

But in Jin Chen's eyes, he was just the pleasant, sweet‑smelling Marquis who had left his room earlier; gone for a moment, and now provoked by others into this state—he looks… a bit pitiful.

He stroked Saiyin's back, lowered his gaze, and asked softly, "What's wrong?"

Saiyin rubbed against him, kissing his neck briefly, and briefly said that the Elder Council was coming.

He didn't go into why the Marquis and the Elder Council were irreconcilable, each wanting control of the Blood Clan, only emphasizing:

"They chose to come tonight's banquet… surely not with good intentions, maybe something big will happen." Saiyin's voice thick with annoyance: "I hate trouble the most."

Jin Chen listened quietly, his fingers combing through Saiyin's hair in an irregular rhythm.

After a moment, he suddenly asked, "If the Elder Council really regains decision‑making power, what will you do?"

Saiyin, as if fleeing, nestled deeper into Jin Chen's embrace, fervently kissing his neck, voice barely audible: "I might be executed."

Jin Chen's fingers paused in his hair for a moment, then continued combing at the same slow pace, showing no change.

Before he could say anything, Saiyin, as if unwilling to continue the topic and eager to fill the sudden hollow anxiety in his heart, pulled a hair tie from his inner clothing, gathered Jin Chen's hair and loosely tied it.

This seems to have become their unspoken agreement: when Saiyin wants to feast on a delicious blood servant, or when he needs special comfort, he does this.

Of course, perhaps it could also be Jin Chen enjoying the tasty Marquis.

Jin Chen's aura gradually invaded the restless yet slightly fragile Saiyin, the intense pressure making his body tremble involuntarily, like a ripe blood‑colored fruit being squeezed—even if it were about to be ruined, it still felt insufficient.

When Saiyin came to from his dazed state, he still wanted Jin Chen to join him at tonight's banquet.

And this is exactly what Jin Chen intends to do today.

Jin Chen curled his lips, threaded his fingers through Saiyin's hair to the back of his head, gently pressing his forehead against his own, his lips touching Saiyin's forehead for an instant, "Good."

—

On the night of the festival, Eternal Night Castle spread its gorgeous, ferocious claws beneath the blood moon.

The main gate of the ritual hall stood open, nobles entered in twos and threes.

The Blood Clan's taste has always been obsessive and extreme; they dislike moderation, dislike compromise, and dress elaborately for every occasion.

They possess pale, handsome features, elegant smiles, yet deep in their eyes lurk ambition and an instinctive craving for blood and power.

They stood solemnly at the sides of the ritual hall according to ancient rites, yet inevitably their gaze drifted to the far end of the main hall.

Upon the platform, seven thrones of differing styles but equal grandeur were arranged in an arc, the foremost naturally belonging to the Marquis of Strand.

Over the past few centuries, the seven Marquis have led the Blood Clan out of the underground, no longer hiding in dark corners, no longer cowering before humanity and the Holy Court's persecutions, openly establishing their domains and order.

But before the banquet officially begins, tonight there is yet another, older and more sacred rite.

This is a collective chant directed at the portrait scrolls of the First Ancestor and of Prince Motis, who truly expanded the Blood Clan and laid the foundation for the second generation's glory—both long‑departed ancestors—an indispensable part of the Blood Moon Festival.

Above the center of the ritual hall, two ancient scrolls suspended by special magic slowly unfurled.

The left scroll depicts the hazy, majestic figure of the First Ancestor, as if standing in the primordial chaos, only eyes that seem able to swallow all light gaze outward from the scroll.

The right scroll belongs to Prince Motis.

Saiyin was the first to rise, staring at the scroll above that bore Prince Motis, his eyes complex and unfathomable.

Immediately, he closed his eyes slightly; the other six Marquis, all the nobles of the Blood Clan standing in the ritual hall, and even the high‑ranking servants in the corners, all shut their eyes.

A low, ancient, magic‑laden chant echoed beneath the hall's vault, the magic resonating and faintly responding to the two scrolls.

Jin Chen stood beside and slightly behind Saiyin's throne, wearing a fine steward's robe, his silver hair tied loosely at the back of his head by the dark‑red velvet hair band Saiyin gave him, a few strands falling over his forehead.

Jin Chen quietly opened his eyes, tilted his head, and looked straight at the two portrait scrolls hanging in the hall, especially the right one bearing Prince Motis.

After a few seconds, he slowly extended his mental power toward it.

……He saw nothing.

After the halo, the Motis on the scroll covered half his face with a mask.

Jin Chen: "……"

He didn't understand.

He redirected his attention to the Saiyin before him; the Marquis, eyes closed in chant, wore a devout, focused expression.

Watching him wholly focused on facing another vampire, Jin Chen clicked his tongue, fingers twitching as he was about to stir up a little trouble—then his ear twitched slightly.

Outside the tightly shut main gate of the ritual hall were many teleportation magic circles.

Jin Chen moved forward half a step without a sound, slightly shielding the chanting Saiyin behind him.

At the same time, he narrowed his azure eyes, his gaze falling on the figures gathering outside the gate, a thought stirring.

A barrier sprang into being, sealing the gate completely.