A few hours later.
Atop the cliffside along the river flowing across the border of the Horning Empire.
Sparse lights flickered amidst swirling wisps of mist. Under the dark night sky, where even the moonlight was masked from time to time by drifting clouds, Lichtenstein Castle appeared all the more eerie and unpredictable.
It was nearing midnight.
A figure streaked across the night sky, whipping up a violent gale and a piercing whistle through the forest air, accompanied by scattering leaves and bone-chilling cold.
The figure flew at a terrifying speed, so fast that the stars in the night sky seemed to blur into streaks of light in his vision.
He lowered his gaze slightly. The precipice, the broken bridge, and the castle rapidly drew closer.
He gradually decelerated, as if approaching his destination.
Under the moonlight, the airborne figure grew increasingly distinct. Strikingly handsome, he possessed a sculpted physique whose near-flawless lines outlined the ultimate combination of elegance and power. Even among the Blood Clan, he would undeniably be counted among their most formidable combatants.
His deep eyes, glowing like rubies, inspected everything with the piercing chill of iron chains.
"Is this where my exceptional thrall met her end?"
Count Palocas's voice sounded like a whisper rising from the abyss, laden with undeniable majesty.
As he swooped across the ravine, Lichtenstein Castle became clearly visible once the clouds parted.
The murderers had no means of escaping the cliff. There were no signs of living creatures moving through the mountain forests, and with the castle lights still burning, it seemed the fools were hiding inside.
Moreover, the castle was remarkably sturdy, reinforced by a defensive barrier powerful enough to impress even Palocas. A long-range magical strike would likely fail to breach it and would only scare off the prey within.
In a flash, Count Palocas hurtled down like a meteorite, landing firmly on the ground some distance from the castle.
Moonlight fell upon his opulent black attire, draping him in a thin silver mantle and lending him an even more noble, mysterious air in the darkness.
"..."
Count Palocas gazed at the castle from afar, his expression exceptionally cold and austere.
Lights still shone from the ground floor of the castle. Through the curtains glowing with a pale yellow warmth, several figures could even be seen faintly moving about.
It was as though they were enjoying a merry feast, completely oblivious to the consequences their crimes would bring, heedless even now of the wrath a noble Blood Clan Count might bring down upon them.
Soon, however, a glimmer of comprehension flashed across Palocas's eyes.
"Nothing more than petty parlor tricks."
Count Palocas chuckled softly, his cynical, frigid voice carrying with unmistakable clarity through the quiet night.
The answer was simple. Those clever fools had laid an ambush inside, pretending to be relaxed so he would drop his guard. Once he stepped through the door, they would launch an all-out, desperate assault.
Humans were weak and lowly creatures, yet every now and then, a few fools arose who possessed the idiocy to defy the Blood Clan.
Such attempts always led to a single outcome: shattered dreams and death.
Yet Palocas thoroughly enjoyed humans who dared resist.
The more thoroughly he crushed them, the more he relished that timeless thrill.
Such was the difference between a superior race and a race of worms.
The Count strode forward slowly through the night, his shadow stretching across the ground.
His authority, [Blood Frenzy], could temporarily double all his attributes and grant him immense resistance to control effects.
It was the cornerstone of his fearless pride.
Countless powerful demons and werewolves had already perished at his hands, while the humans he had slaughtered could form mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Unless an enemy possessed sheer strength far exceeding his own, they were destined to be crushed like vermin beneath his heel.
Wit, schemes, or exotic control spells—none of it meant a thing!
Before long, Count Palocas arrived before the main entrance of the castle's ground floor. He raised a hand and pushed the doors open without the slightest hesitation.
He was more than happy to indulge these struggling maggots. The firmer the insect, the crisper the crunch when stepped on.
The heavy doors swung open with a resounding thud. Welcomed by bright lantern light and rushing warmth, Count Palocas stepped directly inside, his terrifying magical pressure and oppressive aura seeming to make the entire castle tremble.
"Now, where are you wretched creatures hiding?"
The doors swung shut slowly behind the Count, sealing out the biting wind and the nocturnal silence.
Standing in the castle's sanctuary hall, his piercing gaze swept slowly across the expanse, prepared to witness the weak, foolish mortals lunging at him in terrified frenzy.
And yet.
The sight before him brought Count Palocas to an abrupt halt.
The confidence and mockery in his eyes dissolved into sheer bewilderment.
Everything—absolutely everything—was utterly different from what he had envisioned.
Count Palocas found his gaze drawn upward to the resplendence overhead. Crystal chandeliers inlaid with golden motifs shone like a canopy of stars, showering warm light into every corner of the grand hall. The magnificent illumination lit up the dark stone reliefs along the walls and cast brilliant ribbons of light across the polished white stone floor.
Occupying the most prominent position in the hall was an expansive, elegant banquet table. Silver candelabras gleamed in the candlelight, casting dancing shadows through the air, while tall, high-backed chairs meticulously carved from brown oak were arranged neatly along both sides.
Within this opulent hall teeming with symbols of power and prestige, several men and women sat gathered around the central table sharing a feast. They raised their glasses to one another, their laughter and conversation reverberating through the banquet hall.
The scene before the Count was one of sheer luxury and decadence, evoking memories of grand, golden carnival nights filled with song and merriment.
Yet the atmosphere of this banquet carried an eerie harmony—as though it were a lavish feast of brazen villains throughout history who flaunted their grandeur while evading justice!
As Count Palocas intruded, their laughter gradually subsided, and all eyes turned in unison toward him.
Palocas: "?"
Could these people...
Actually be hosting a dinner party?
***
Deep in the night at Ikerite Academy, Jera Memorial Square shimmered with faint white light.
The clock tower's hand was nearly on the stroke of midnight.
Yet at this late hour, the square had grown uncharacteristically restless once more.
Compared to the lively, expectant atmosphere of the afternoon, the crowd of students gathering before the steps leading to the outdoor giant screen faced an exceptionally oppressive and heavy mood.
Ever since Frey defeated the Saintess of Destruction near sunset, Lanqi had merely given a few instructions to the clergy and the merchant guild trio about hosting the Count tonight. Afterward, he had turned off the [Shadow World Recording Program].
It was not until eleven o'clock that Lanqi resumed the broadcast.
Aware that the final hour was fast approaching, several students had stayed up late and returned to the square to watch, even knowing it was an unwinnable deadlock.
And what they saw was the nine of them actually holding a banquet.
Hosting him in the most literal sense!
"What on earth does Lanqi mean by this?"
"Is he really not going to make any attempt at all?"
Numerous students asked in utter bewilderment.
In truth, right up until Count Palocas arrived in person, some had still believed Lanqi would make a move and begin crucial preparations.
If these challengers could survive five full days under the rampage state of the Shadow World in such a caged dead end and return alive, it would be nothing short of a miracle.
Their sole glimmer of hope lay in surviving tonight. Then, before dusk the next day, they would need to pool their strength to fell trees, repair the bridge, scatter into the night to evade pursuit, and play a three-day, three-night game of cat and mouse with the Blood Clan Count across the Horning Empire.
That was the slim fighting chance earned by uncovering the traitor ahead of schedule without a single casualty.
If the traitor's threat still loomed, they wouldn't even be able to repair the bridge, let alone flee through the Horning Empire together!
Yet no matter what, the prerequisite to everything was surviving tonight.
And after that lay four more nightmare-filled days.
Perhaps losing to the Blood Clan Count tonight was a form of mercy.
Yet the reality was that Lanqi seemed to have abandoned any will to fight, hosting a final banquet to embrace death with open arms.
Along the path at the edge of the square.
Modan Gaxiges watched the giant outdoor screen with a calm expression until, unable to hold it in any longer, he sneered aloud.
As the son of a marquess, he had possessed the perfect opportunity to claim Hyperion, only for Lanqi to barge in and even threaten him with the law.
To this day, he still burned with humiliation over Lanqi's words—"You admitted it yourself"—which had made an absolute fool of him.
Unlike most of the students, he felt utterly elated!
"Pathetic wretch... finally at the end of your rope, aren't you?"
Modan scoffed under his breath. It would be best if Lanqi died, and even better if he dragged that jinx of a slut Hyperion down with him.
Arrogant overconfidence was bound to invite destruction.
Before a Blood Clan Count—a catastrophic creature whose race inherently crushed humanity and could not be resisted—every ounce of petty cleverness was as ridiculous as a clown's performance.
Next, that miserable fool would be weeping in terror, brutally degraded until his dignity was completely stripped away, and finally eviscerated in agonizing despair!
Modan could already picture the gruesome scene.
The only thing he was curious about now was—
Just how long could Lanqi keep up his act before the Blood Clan Count!
And yet.
Upon the outdoor giant screen.
Seated at the head of the long table, Lanqi gently swirled the pale rose liquid in his wine glass. A bouquet unique to fine vintage—a subtle fusion of rich, fruity, and refreshing aromas—seemed almost palpable, wafting forth to captivate the senses.
He had not taken a single sip.
Even with Count Palocas's arrival, Lanqi's expression remained completely unperturbed.
Leaning lazily against his backrest, he appeared like a man who had seen all the world's splendors and weathered life's storms, utterly world-weary and at ease.
Turning his head, he glanced sideways at Count Palocas out of the corner of his eye.
"Little Pa, you're here."
Chapter 150