Chapter Seventy-Two The Uncle Who Called Himself Lei Feng Appears

All my life, I have despised those who attack others from behind. Even when watching such scenes on television, I can’t help but grit my teeth and clench my fists, wishing I could leap into the screen and give that scoundrel a thorough beating.

When I saw the five vampires closing in on the old man, I swung my sword with all my might. A ray of golden light cut off their advance, and then I raised my middle finger at the lot of them.

Louis, seeing me block their path, immediately understood my intentions. They’d received word that there was only one werewolf here, one nearly as strong as the Wolf King. Their plan had been to let us eliminate the werewolf, then take the opportunity to get rid of me, achieving two goals at once. None of them had counted on an unexpected guest—a man as powerful as the Supreme Blood Emperor—appearing midway.

I didn’t care what expressions they wore; I was furious. Gripping the ephemeral, pale golden sword, I charged toward the five figures hovering in the air, stabbing fiercely at the nearest vampire.

Earlier, I had already sensed the level of these five—though just beneath the Blood Emperor, not far off. Still, their power didn’t feel natural; it was as if it had been forcibly grafted onto them, stolen from others and used as their own, making their control clumsy and unrefined.

But they would be foolish to underestimate my strike. Even a Blood Emperor would not dare take this blow lightly, let alone these underlings who hadn’t reached that pinnacle.

The seemingly simple swing landed brutally on the nearest vampire’s wing. My lips curled in a faint smile, whether mocking or cold I could not say. The sword sliced straight through, severing the wing at its root. A crimson arc sprayed across the night as the vampire tumbled from the sky, plummeting from a height of a hundred meters.

If he had been a true Blood Emperor, perhaps he’d have survived unscathed. But at the peak of the Grand Duke rank, his body had not endured the Blood Emperor’s transformation—he remained fragile. If he didn’t die from this, he would certainly be crippled.

Watching the vampire fall, I felt like a demon from ancient times. My blood boiled, veins bulged on my arms, and with a mad laugh I pointed my sword at the heavens. My hair turned silver in an instant, my pupils shifted from black to red, and fangs extended from my mouth—I must have looked utterly deranged.

The other four vampires, having evaded the aftershock of my strike, floated five meters away, materializing weapons from thin air with their powers, assuming defensive stances.

My silver hair danced wildly around me, giving me a truly demonic appearance. But I retained my senses. Leveling the pale golden sword at the four Grand Dukes, I said coldly, “Deceitful bats, tonight you will all leave a life behind—only then will my hatred be sated!” With that, I lunged forward, sword raised.

It seemed Louis was the core of their group. As I charged, the other three immediately moved to shield him, confirming that this favored son of Marcus commanded their loyalty.

With Louis, four vampires in all brandished their dark, shadowy weapons and rushed at me. To me, it was like watching monkeys play with grenades—suicidal folly.

Weapons conjured from supernatural power did not clash with the metallic clangor of forged steel. Instead, they crackled with energy, reminiscent of alien laser swords in a space opera—only these mystical weapons far surpassed any mere laser blade.

Not only was I fighting, but the golden runic scripts that adorned my wings seemed to come alive, swirling around me to fend off any attacks I failed to block in time.

After several exchanges, the four vampires bore wounds, while I, the first generation King of the Demonic Corpses, remained untouched.

If I, of all beings, were to be hurt by these Grand Dukes, I might as well crawl into a crack in the earth and never show my face again.

Realizing their attacks were futile, the four vampires curled up in mid-air. I watched, curious—they seemed to be undergoing some sort of transformation.

For the first time in my life, I witnessed the true forms of the vampire race. Their bodies twisted into four balls of flesh, oozing with fluid. As the human skin peeled away, the balls unfolded, revealing four giant bats, each two meters tall, dripping with viscous liquid that trailed down in long threads from the sky.

So this was their real appearance, hidden beneath those civilized exteriors—a grotesque revelation.

But I didn’t pause to gawk. Sword in hand, I charged. The fierce winds generated by the bats’ wings tore my clothes to shreds, evidence that their strength had grown considerably.

Those bats had steel jaws and razor-sharp claws, their four pairs of eyes fixed intently on me.

No matter how much stronger they’d become, the fight had to go on. I thrust my sword into the nearest bat’s body.

With a blood-curdling shriek, the energy blade exploded, blasting the giant bat into pieces.

Three remained. We faced each other, wings beating in the night. If a reporter were to witness this, it would certainly make world headlines—though, if no one believed it, the poor soul would end up committed.

Meanwhile, the old man’s battle with Marcus raged on, locked in a stalemate after hours. My side, however, was destined for victory.

Braving the gales whipped up by the three remaining bats, I hurled my fist—wreathed in pale golden power—straight at them. The wind of a non-Blood Emperor was nothing to me.

My punch sliced through their storm and landed in the abdomen of one giant bat. With a dull thud, I sent it crashing to the ground, raising a cloud of dust where it landed, defeated.

Two bats remained in the air—I was certain one of them was Louis.

But I paid little heed to that detail, looking downward and utterly unaware that one bat was hurtling toward my back.

Damn! That blow was fierce, sending me hurtling from a hundred meters in the sky. I crashed to earth with a resounding thud, carving a humanoid crater into the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.

The demonic corpse race is immortal—I could hardly be finished off so easily. Compared to these monsters, we are on an entirely different level.

I coughed twice and climbed out of the pit, my body coated in dirt. Dusting myself off, I pointed at the two bats hovering ten meters above and shouted, “Which one of you dared to ambush your lord here?!”

But no one bothered to answer—only those two damned bats, still flapping their wings, sending gales down in a ceaseless attempt to blow me to death.

One must understand: these winds, transformed by strange powers, would kill an ordinary man instantly. I’d been buffeted for over ten minutes.

Anyone would grow irritable after being battered this long. I was no ordinary person, but these two idiots kept fanning the wind. Impatient, I spread my wings and shot up into the sky, grabbing one of the bats by its ankle.

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