Chapter 903 - 410: The Death Throes of the Financial Vampires
Chapter 903: Chapter 410: The Death Throes of the Financial Vampires
On the spire of the Blood Cathedral, twelve statues of the Blood Race simultaneously came to life, transforming into ancient Blood Race with bat wings.
They were the first-generation Blood Race personally transformed by Cain, each possessing strength comparable to that of a Prince. A heavy blood mist barrier rose around the church, capable of withstanding a nuclear attack.
Ye Qingzhou didn’t even glance at these defenses, merely swung his sword.
"Slash."
A plain and unadorned sword light descended.
The twelve ancient Blood Race had just risen into the air when they were shattered into blood mist by the residual wave of Sword Qi.
The supposedly indestructible blood mist barrier was cut like paper, with the Sword Qi continuing its momentum, splitting the entire Blood Cathedral in half.
Duke Morgan crawled out of the ruins in a sorry state, his left arm already disappeared within the Sword Qi.
He looked in terror at Ye Qingzhou, dressed in white and holding a long sword, who approached slowly, each step causing the residual Blood Energy on the ground to evaporate and dissipate.
"You... you can’t kill me! I am a direct descendant of Cain! If you kill me, the Blood God will..."
Ye Qingzhou didn’t let him finish. With a light flick of the Infinite Sword, Duke Morgan’s head departed from his shoulders. Before his consciousness faded, he heard the Sword Cultivator’s calm words:
"Your Blood God, will not return."
In the underground vault of the cathedral, a Holy Grail embedded with countless rubies suddenly trembled violently.
The blood within the cup boiled, forming a blurry human face. It was Cain’s will left on earth, preparing to descend and punish this arrogant intruder.
Ye Qingzhou sensed the disturbance underground and let out a cold snort.
The Infinite Sword flew from his hand, transforming into a stream of light, piercing into the ground. In the vault, before the blood face in the Holy Grail could make a sound, Sword Qi penetrated it.
Bang~
The Crimson Chalice exploded into countless fragments, every piece turning to ash within the Sword Intent. The blood cloud accumulated over hundreds of years in the sky above the Western Pole Kingdom suddenly dissipated, and long-lost sunlight bathed the land.
......
Golden Bull Street, top floor of the Rothschild Bank headquarters.
Lionel Rothschild stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the busiest financial district of New York Commandery.
In his hand, he swirled a glass of 1945 Romanée-Conti, the crimson wine spinning in the crystal glass, resembling to a great degree the blood pearls that oozed from the neck of a girl last night.
"Mr. Richard, have you made your decision?"
Lionel asked without turning his head, his voice like a blade wrapped in silk.
In the center of the office, shipping tycoon Richard Howard clenched his fists, his knuckles pale.
Cold sweat trickled down his forehead, sliding down his cheeks and splattering onto the million-dollar Persian carpet. Behind him, his twelve-year-old daughter Emily shivered, like a frightened fawn.
"Mr. Rothschild... I can mortgage all my assets, even... even accept a thirty percent interest rate..." Richard’s voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing, "But Emily, she’s still so young..."
Lionel suddenly turned, that strikingly handsome face exhibiting a cruel smile.
His pupils appeared unnaturally dark red under the sunlight—an unmistakable trait of the Golden Family.
"Dear Richard, did you think I was talking about business with you?"
Lionel took a sip of the red wine, the crimson liquid staining his lips, "Your company is already an empty shell. What, aside from your daughter’s fresh blood, is of interest to the Rothschild Family?"
Emily let out a stifled sob.
Richard trembled all over, yet dared not resist.
He understood what the Golden Twelve Families represented—they were not only the actual rulers of the Western Pole Kingdom but also vampires who had lived for hundreds of years.
The scene of the Chamber of Commerce president refusing Lionel’s request was still vivid in his mind; this morning, that man was found hanging over his swimming pool, completely drained of blood.
"I... I accept..."
Richard finally fell to his knees, as if aging twenty years in an instant: "I only beg you... treat Emily gently..."
Lionel wore a victorious smile. He relished this moment even more than enjoying a maiden’s pure blood—watching these self-important business magnates grovel like dogs, willing to offer their most cherished possessions for survival.
"A wise choice."
Lionel walked toward Emily, his cold fingers caressing the girl’s pale cheek, "Tonight’s moonlight will be beautiful, ideal for an Initial Embrace ceremony..."
A massive explosion suddenly shattered the floor-to-ceiling window. Lionel reacted swiftly, teleporting five meters away, yet he was still grazed by flying glass shards, cutting his cheek.
To his shock, the wound did not heal as it normally would but instead oozed real blood, clearly indicating the fragments contained high-purity Silver.
"What’s going on?"
Lionel roared, his dark red pupils narrowing to pinpoints.
His answer was a series of window-breaking noises. Twelve Martial Artists in black tactical gear swung into the room like specters, each wearing the special forces badge of the Western Pole Kingdom’s Eagle’s Nest on their chests.
More terrifyingly, they wielded not ordinary weapons but alchemical silver-plated chains and short clubs engraved with runes.
"Lionel Rothschild..."
The leading Martial Artist’s voice was icy, his gaze locked firmly on Lionel: "You are under arrest for treason, murder, and crimes against humanity."
Richard and Emily were swiftly escorted to a corner, while Lionel was surrounded tightly.
He attempted to exploit the Blood Race’s superior speed to break through but was horrified to find his abilities seemed sealed. The spilled red wine on the ground spread like a glaring pool of blood.
"Are you all insane?"