Chapter 3070

In the cage, I don't know the date.

Saiyin only remembers that since countless eyes opened, everything became even more…… unbearable, and also made him sink deeper.

It was as if countless invisible hands, conjured from mental power, lovingly and meticulously caressed every inch, from the tips of his hair to his toes.

And it was as if countless lips, bearing the deepest affection, kissed every trace.

The poor little vampire, drowned in this aura filled with Jin Chen's presence and mental power, would wake then faint, faint then wake.

When weakened, vines would bring nourishing juice; sometimes, several blood lines and vines would hoist him up together, wrists and ankles bound, body suspended, only his toes could barely touch the slick blanket below, yet he could find no foothold.

In that state of having lost support, relying only on the blood lines entwined around him while countless eyes watched from every angle, Saiyin helplessly shook his head, pleading with a crying voice, tearfully begging for a long time before being let down.

Then, often before he could catch his breath, the blood lines under his skin that had never left would start again.

And from beginning to end, those eyes at the top of the cage never closed; no matter which direction Saiyin looked, whether he was dazed, in pain, joyful, or pleading, he always met at least one pair of eyes.

Such punishment was excessive; Saiyin often, in moments of slight clarity, would pleadingly meet those eyes' gaze.

……

It seemed a long time had passed again.

During a long stretch that almost made Saiyin think he would melt in this endless torment, he suddenly felt an emptiness inside his body.

Those constantly churning blood lines, even those from the deepest part, actually withdrew at the same time, extremely slowly yet without reluctance.

「Hn……」

Saiyin let out a faint groan tinged with emptiness, opening his eyes blankly from deep dazedness.

He saw the blood lines and vines entwined around his body, surroundings, and even the entire cage slowly writhing, converging toward a point at the cage's center.

Having been blocked for a long time, what had long been full yet uncontrollable was finally no longer restrained.

As the blood lines withdrew, all that had built up over time poured out, drenching that slick blanket.

Saiyin couldn't help but curl up on his side, biting his fingers, letting out a weak whimper.

In this haze and emptiness, he saw the thick mental-power blood lines at the cage's center shift into a tall, slender figure.

After so long of not letting Saiyin see his true form, only using mental power to place and punish him, Jin Chen finally appeared in person.

Jin Chen gave a short, light laugh; in the blood-colored light and shadow, his pupil depth was heavy, his eyes slightly lowered, within them surging the gloom after ultimate satisfaction.

He slowly walked into the cage, crouched before the curled-up Saiyin, extended his hand, and his icy fingertips lightly brushed Saiyin's sweat-damp cheek.

"How pitiful, darling." Jin Chen's voice was low and gentle, as if he weren't the one who had been bullying.

Saiyin affectionately rubbed lightly against Jin Chen's slightly curled palm.

He infatuatedly pressed against that warm palm for a moment, then softly called out, "Blood father..."

Jin Chen looked down at him, his gaze deep and inscrutable, not immediately lifting him, "Do you know you were wrong?"

Saiyin's body trembled again, burying his tear-streaked face into Jin Chen's palm, his voice muffled, "I know..."

"I shouldn't have been so impulsive, I shouldn't have... disregarded my life..."

He spoke haltingly of his transgressions, each sentence making him tremble in Jin Chen's gentle stroking.

Jin Chen listened quietly, waiting for him to finish before uttering an assent, then lowered his head to kiss Saiyin's sweat-damp forehead, filled with approval and pity.

"Good."

Jin Chen gently soothed the part that had been bullied for too long, now fragile to the point of being unable to release.

"Mmm..." Saiyin let out a sob mingled with pain and comfort, instinctively stretching out his trembling arms to wrap around Jin Chen's neck, burying his scorching cheek in the crook of his neck, rubbing dazedly and clingingly.

He immersed himself in this boundless happiness, his pupil color gradually fading as he sank completely into it.

——

A new batch of slaves and stewards were selected into the Ancestor's domain.

Among them was a young tree elf from the distant elf forest, assigned to the blood rose garden deep in the domain, responsible for tending those eerily beautiful blood roses that grew extraordinarily lush.

That day, the tree elf crouched beside a particularly thriving rose bush, softly chanting an elven-specific natural incantation of soothing and growth, his fingertips flowing with pale green specks of light.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure slowly walking along the path on the other side of the garden.

The tree elf involuntarily stopped, his jade-green eyes widening slightly as he gazed at the approaching figure.

The blood clan figure wore a deep crimson robe whose rank was indiscernible yet extravagantly luxurious, shimmering with a dim luster in the daylight, his sleeves fluttering as he walked, radiant and colorful, possessing an ineffable aura of being extravagantly pampered and cherished to the utmost.

In that moment of stupor, the tree elf saw the blood clan figure slowly extend his hand, his slender fingers moving toward the most fully bloomed rose in the bush, as if to pluck it.

The tree elf startled, for he had been repeatedly warned that every blood rose in this garden was extremely precious, intimately tied to the domain's magical circulation and even the Majesty's mood, and must never be damaged or plucked at will.

He wanted to step forward to stop him, but was firmly grabbed from the side and pulled toward the nearby dense thicket.

"You're courting death!" the senior hissed in a low voice, his eyes filled with lingering fear.

The tree elf was somewhat dazed, "But according to the rules... one mustn't pluck flowers at will..."

"Those rules! They don't apply to him!" the senior snapped, pointing toward that red-clad figure.

Seeing the tree elf still clueless, he leaned in closer, "Do you know who he is?"

The tree elf shook his head.

"That is Count Sitelande, chief of the blood clan's seven counts! Moreover, he is the Ancestor Majesty's most beloved blood heir!"

The senior glanced at the red-clad figure who had already plucked a rose with ease, holding it up to examine, and continued, "Not to mention these roses, even the whole garden—if he felt like it, he could burn it for fun."

The tree elf sucked in a breath of cold air.

He had naturally also heard of the renown of the blood clan's seven counts, especially the foremost Count Sitelande, who was rumored to be immensely strong and… well, not particularly easy to get along with.

Who would have thought that the blood clan figure before him appeared so… beautiful and fragile.

He then nodded, apprehensive, no longer daring to entertain any thought of interference, merely continuing to watch furtively out of curiosity.

All that could be seen was Count Sitelande seemingly pleased with the rose in his hand, examining it for a moment, then leisurely plucking a few more equally superb roses from the side, carefully bundling them together, turning, and walking away at a leisurely pace along the path he had come, toward the castle's main hall.

Only after that figure had completely vanished from sight did the tree elf exhale, pat his chest, and resume his work, though the impression of that count left in his mind was now deeply etched.

Afternoon

The senior handed the tray to the tree spirit, saying, "This is nectar wine newly brewed from the finest blood rose honey and morning dew; take it to His Majesty."

Remember, keep your head lowered and don't look around; just set it down and leave.

The tree spirit took the tray with some nervousness; this was his first time entering the main hall.

He passed through the heavily guarded corridor, arrived before the main hall door carved with the Forefather's crest, held his breath, kept his head lowered, and carefully carried the tray inside.

The light inside the hall was slightly dimmer than outside, filled with the familiar cool scent of roses.

He dared not raise his head, only glancing quickly at the hall's situation with his peripheral vision.

Upon the high throne sat the Forefather Majesty, and beneath the throne was the Count Strand whom he had seen in the garden that morning, kneeling on the carpet at the throne's base, his posture relaxed and reliant, his red robes spread across the floor like a decadent, gorgeous rose.

He tilted his head, his cheek pressed against the Majesty's knee, eyelids lowered, slowly sucking on one of the Majesty's fingertips, as if coaxing affection from an elder, yet ambiguous and intimate enough to make one's face flush and heart race.

The tree spirit's face flushed red at once; he dared not look again, hurriedly quickening his steps to a small table beside the throne, where he gently and steadily set down the crystal bottle, saying, "Your Majesty, the nectar wine."

Before he could finish speaking, he felt an indifferent glance sweep over him from beneath the throne, frightening him so that after pouring the wine he hurriedly retreated from the hall.

As the hall doors closed, the last sliver of light was cut off, and the light and shadow inside grew softer and more hazy.

Jin Chen lowered his gaze to see Saiyin clinging to his lap like a kitten, sucking on his finger, while his other hand gripped Saiyin's slender waist, no longer as frail as before.

Feeling the pressure at his waist, Saiyin slowly released Jin Chen's finger; his blood-colored eyes shimmered with languid watery light, he gazed dreamily at Jin Chen, obedient yet anticipative as he lifted his face and closed his eyes.

After a long while, Jin Chen asked, "The nectar wine has arrived; would you like a taste?"

Saiyin lightly pecked Jin Chen's lips, saying, "I want Father to feed me."

Jin Chen chuckled low, finally lifting him from the carpet, letting him sit sideways on his lap, and took the bottle of nectar wine that had just been delivered.

The rich floral and honey fragrance was intoxicating to the heart and spleen.

Jin Chen first took a small sip, then lowered his head to kiss Saiyin again; the liquor passed into his mouth, Saiyin accepted it obediently, his throat bobbing slightly as he swallowed, actively seeking to share this sweetness—and more tenderness—with Jin Chen.

They are recorded in the Blood Clan Annals, in that tale of regret, loss, and eventual fulfillment; perhaps it once had twists and turns, but now only endless mutual guarding remains through the long ages.