“Thank you, Elder, for the grace of remaking me!”
Andura joyfully moved his newly grown left arm, feeling the same flexibility and strength as before, and bowed deeply once again to express his gratitude to Elder Shaloria.
Elder Shaloria simply waved her hand dismissively, reclining lazily back into her velvet seat, as if the miraculous healing that could regrow limbs was but a trivial matter as easy as breathing to her.
“Keep your words of gratitude for now.” Her voice returned to that nonchalant yet subtly pressuring tone.
“First, tell me, what are your plans for bringing that…
well, Demon Clan native back to the camp?
Surely you didn’t invite him as a guest.”
Long before Andura stepped into the camp’s perimeter, her keen perception had already captured that strange, profound mana fluctuation carrying a faint pressure, which was completely out of place with the cold and feminine energy field of the Vampire Clan within the camp.
Combined with Andura’s description, the visitor’s identity was self-evident.
Hearing this, Andura’s expression turned solemn.
He quickly restrained his joy over regaining his arm and reported in a lowered voice.
“Reporting to the Elder, after that scoundrel severed my arm and severely wounded me, he did not kill me immediately.
Instead…
he took the opportunity to blackmail me!
He forced your subordinate to provide thirty intact biological beings with a Combat Class of around five thousand as…
as the price for’sparing’ me.
Having no choice, I could only feign agreement to lead him near the camp and wait for an opportunity to escape and report.
Currently, he is waiting in a spare tent on the edge of the camp.”
He glossed over his forced role as a guide and his intention to shift the trouble onto others as a “feigned agreement” and “waiting for an opportunity to report” born of quick thinking.
“Thirty bodies with a Combat Class of five thousand?” Elder Shaloria’s half-closed eyes suddenly snapped open.
A cold light flashed in her icy purple pupils, and a frigid, majestic aura silently spread, making the temperature in the tent seem to drop by several degrees.
On her pale and beautiful face, an undisguised look of anger and mockery surfaced.
“Heh…
a mere native from a desolate land, who luckily injured our Captain of the Warriors, dares to speak so arrogantly and set his sights on my Vampire Clan?
Does he truly think our clan is a soft persimmon to be squeezed at will?!”
As one of the five Great Elders of the Vampire Clan, she held a prestigious position and had wielded power for centuries.
She was long accustomed to looking down on others, viewing most other races as mere ants or resources.
She automatically ignored that this was a “transaction” Andura was forced to agree to after his defeat, directly viewing it as blackmail against the Vampire Clan as a whole.
It was no wonder Elder Shaloria would judge it so.
When Andura reported, he only focused on emphasizing how he had “fought a hard battle” and how “eerily powerful” the opponent was, highlighting the blackmail conditions while “forgetting” to mention the most crucial piece of information—Lucifer had clearly told him that adult Induras with a Combat Class of two hundred thousand existed in the Demon Realm, as well as a Demon King whose Combat Class might exceed seven hundred thousand.
Had Elder Shaloria known this, with her shrewdness and caution, she would never have developed a murderous intent so easily.
At the very least, she would have re-evaluated her strategy for dealing with the “Demon Clan.”
Unfortunately, under the blow of severe pain, fear, and a severed arm, Andura’s subconscious might have also rejected this terrifying and confidence-shaking information, leading him to subconsciously omit it during his report. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
If Lucifer knew, he would probably only sneer that this vampire Captain of the Warriors’ character was indeed pathetic, unable to even relay information completely.
“Elder, please calm your anger!” Sensing Elder Shaloria’s rage, Andura quickly lowered his head.
“That scoundrel is indeed extremely arrogant!
In my opinion, why don’t we…”
A flash of ruthlessness crossed his eyes as he raised his right hand and made a decapitation gesture across his neck.
Seeing this, the curve of mockery on Elder Shaloria’s lips deepened into a cold chuckle.
“Kill him?
Of course, he must be killed,” she said slowly, her fingertips lightly tapping the armrest of her chair.
“A native who dares to harm my clansman and blackmail our clan has no value in staying alive.
However…”
Her tone shifted, and a calculating light flickered in her icy purple eyes, like a venomous snake eyeing its prey.
“Before sending him on his way, we must ‘entertain’ him properly.
How much does he know about this Demon Realm?
What is the actual scale of the Demon Clan?
What about their top-tier combat power?
And where is the source of his eerie magic that can copy divine artifacts…
This information is more valuable than his life.”
In Elder Shaloria’s view, Andura had clearly failed to interrogate any decent information from the opponent, wasting the opportunity of their encounter.
She decided to “interrogate” him personally.
“Then…
how should I cooperate with the Elder?” Andura asked quickly, his posture becoming even more submissive.
Elder Shaloria gave Andura a faint glance.
This calm gaze made Andura feel as if he had fallen into an ice cellar, as if an invisible force were clutching his throat, making even his soul tremble.
He suddenly realized that his question just now had a slight hint of rushing the Elder and interfering with her decision, which was a great sign of disrespect!
“I am dull-witted!
To presume to speculate…
please forgive me, Elder!” Cold sweat instantly soaked Andura’s back, and he immediately knelt on one knee, pleading for forgiveness in terror.
Elder Shaloria withdrew her gaze and did not pursue the matter.
Although Andura had suffered a defeat, he was still the highest combat power here besides herself.
“Steady him first.” Elder Shaloria resumed her lazy posture and issued her command.
“Doesn’t he want thirty ‘biological beings’ with a Combat Class of five thousand?
Go first and bring the fifty ‘Engolas’ we brought with us to him.”
“Engolas” were a type of low-intelligence magical beast raised by the Vampire Clan in their original world.
They looked like sheep, were sturdily built, and had a docile temperament.
They primarily provided flesh and a small amount of mana, with an average Combat Class of only around five hundred, far from the requirement of five thousand.
“Give him these fifty first and tell him it’s just the first batch.
The rest…
will take some time to gather from more distant hunting grounds.
Tell him to wait patiently, or…” A cold smile curled on Elder Shaloria’s lips.
“He can come in person to discuss the follow-up matters with me, the ‘Camp Supervisor.’ Remember, your attitude must be’sincere.’ Make him believe we are doing our best to prepare.”
Her plan was clear: throw out a negligible “sweetener” to lower the opponent’s guard, while simultaneously creating a plausible excuse for delay.
If the opponent became impatient or suspicious, she would take the opportunity to lead him to her.
On her home turf, combined with the methods she had already prepared, she was completely confident she could take down this “native” with a Combat Class of barely over ten thousand, then slowly work on him to squeeze out every bit of value.
“Yes!
I understand!
I’ll do it right away!” Andura understood perfectly and immediately accepted the command.
“Go.
Make it look natural.” Elder Shaloria waved her hand.
Andura bowed again, then carefully retreated from the magnificent purple tent.
The tent flap fell, isolating the inside from the outside.
Elder Shaloria sat alone in the center of the luxurious and empty tent, her fingertips picking up the crystal glass again at some point.
A smile mixing greed, cruelty, and absolute confidence slowly blossomed on her beautiful but pale face.
Just then, a small snake, entirely blood-red with fine jewel-like scales and only as thick as a finger, slithered silently from the intricate folds of her elaborate robes behind her.
It wound its way up her back and finally coiled nimbly around her pale neck.
The small triangular head of the snake nuzzled her chin affectionately, its forked tongue flickering slightly.
Elder Shaloria reached out a slender finger, gently stroking the Blood Snake’s cold scales.
“Little one,” she whispered to the Blood Snake, and also as if to her invisible prey, with a light laugh, “it seems tonight…
we’ll have quite a nice ‘extra meal’.”
The Blood Snake’s crimson vertical pupils contracted slightly, as if it understood its master’s words, revealing a pure and primitive bloodlust.
Inside the tent, the cloying sweetness of incense and a faint scent of blood silently intertwined and filled the air.