Chapter 96: Paying a Visit

For now, that's enough.

After Dracula finished briefing Xiu, he stood up, walked to the window, and gave a few instructions:

"With the bloodline I bestowed upon you, you can walk in sunlight during the day, but you will feel weak and powerless."

"Try not to reveal your aura in front of the Red Cloaked Cardinal and the Knight Commander, or better yet, avoid appearing before them altogether."

"If you are exposed, decide for yourself whether to run or to kill yourself."

His words fell.

He flew upward into the air and vanished.

Xiu watched him disappear into the night before withdrawing his gaze.

He turned, went to the desk, and sat down.

He raised his hand, lifted a metal rack ornament from the desk, and gave it a strong pull.

The rack turned to scrap metal in his hand.

Clang!

It fell onto the desk.

"The power… is truly impressive," Xiu said, looking at the scrap on the desk, a satisfied expression on his face.

Given his status, he is not barred from studying the knight's cultivation path.

But unfortunately, he lacks that talent; he cannot sense Heaven's presence, nor summon Holy Power.

As for the path of the priest Bishop… that requires even greater sensing of Heaven, it is even harder.

The Eastern Chain Qi Warrior path needs no explanation; he still doesn't know what "Qi" they speak of!

Fortunately, as the saying goes: "When God closes one door, He will open another for you!"

Now he has become a Vampire, a high‑bloodline Vampire; with only a small price, he has attained the realm that those Bishops and Knights spent decades cultivating.

Moreover, the Bishops' and Knights' lifespans are far shorter than his.

If he can't win now, after a few decades we'll see who is stronger; he might end up as a corpse!

Therefore.

Xiu is quite satisfied with the current situation.

The previous struggle? Once he has power, there is no struggle; a kind‑hearted person can't become the richest man in Britain.

However.

His gaze fell upon the documents Dracula left behind.

After examining them carefully and pondering for a moment, he had already made a decision.

As a series of crackling sounds emanated from his body, he reverted to his original aged appearance.

He rose and walked outward, not knowing where he was headed.

Morning.

The factory's smokestacks had long been belching black smoke, and workers, dragging their weary bodies, poured into the plant as a new day's labor was about to begin.

A hazy mist shrouded the Thames River, and the damp air was tinged with the acrid smell of burning coal.

On the streets, newsboys hawked their papers, their voices crisp in the biting morning wind.

"Sir, would you like to buy a newspaper?"

A newsboy stopped Jonathan, who was carrying a box, and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Why not? How much?"

"Just two pence!"

"I like your smile; it lifts my spirits, so I'll give you a sovereign!"

Jonathan slipped a coin into the newsboy's hand, took the newspaper from him, and walked forward.

From behind came the newsboy's grateful voice:

"Sir, thank you for your generosity! May the Lord bless you with a peaceful life!"

Jonathan gave no reply, only a smile at the corner of his mouth.

He stopped only when he reached a building—the Feiluo Exorcism Office.

Jonathan pushed open the door and entered the office; the Wooden Door creaked softly.

His gaze swept the interior, first landing on the Eastern youth by the window eating a sandwich; the youth glanced up, gave him a friendly smile, then returned his focus to the food.

A British‑style sandwich and a cup of milk coffee loaded with sugar.

But when his eyes shifted to the other side, Jonathan exclaimed in surprise:

"Mr. Van Helsing?"

"Hmm?"

Van Helsing set down the Silver bullet he was carving, looked up at Jonathan, and showed a similarly surprised expression:

"You are, Jonathan Hark?"

Jonathan stepped forward, placed the wooden box he was carrying on the table, extended his hand, and smiled, "Hello, it's me."

His gaze lingered a moment on the Silver bullet in Van Helsing's hand:

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"Hello," Van Helsing rose, shook his hand, then asked, "What brings you here? Are you here for Exorcism business?"

"No," Jonathan shook his head, explaining, "Feiluo and I are friends; I came to visit him."

At that moment, Feiluo's voice came from the hallway: "Jonathan! My friend, have you returned from Romania?"

He appeared as if he had just left the restroom, wiping his hands with a towel while briskly walking over, a delighted smile on his face.

He stepped forward, gave Jonathan a warm hug, and patted Jonathan's back vigorously.

"How's it going? Are the days in Romania still okay?"

"Not bad, I found a job paying five hundred pounds a year; I might even get more later." Jonathan shrugged, with an air of it being nothing special.

"Later, when I get into high society, I'll definitely promote you too."

Feiluo immediately saw that he was showing off to himself, laughed and gave his butt a slap: "Do I still have to thank you then?"

"You......... huh? What is this?!"

The words on his lips suddenly changed.

He reached out, and in Jonathan's puzzled gaze, pulled out from behind his head—a Silver Coin!

Jonathan: "........"

"You guy, when did you take this out of my pocket?"

He snatched the Silver Coin away and stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Haha, just joking." Feiluo laughed heartily, then as if smelling something, turned and went to the box Jonathan had just brought, immediately went up to it, opened the box, revealing the food inside, his eyes lighting up:

"Glen family's pastries! You really understand me!"

Saying that, he couldn't wait to pick up a piece and stuff it into his mouth, then picked up another piece and handed it to Van Helsing: "Abraham, you too........... what's with that expression?"

His hand halted in midair.

Because Van Helsing furrowed his brows, wearing a solemn expression:

"Where did you get that Silver Coin?"