A stray arrow struck a vampire's heart; it was a crossbow bolt with a wooden arrowhead. The vampire froze for a moment, then collapsed, his body covered in bluish-black markings. Then, a foot shot out from the darkness, kicking his head far away.
But this did not dampen the vampires' revelry. They went on a killing spree, oblivious to the plight of their companions.
So by the time they realized something was wrong, ten vampires had already fallen.
The revelry came to a standstill.
The vampires looked at each other, realizing something was wrong, but their excited minds couldn't calm down, and they didn't know what had happened.
Until someone shouted "Hunter!!!"
The vampires were jolted, but they clearly had no concept of the word. They exchanged bewildered glances, wondering what was so terrifying about the word "hunter." They were all vampires who had only been transformed a few months, even days ago, and didn't actually feel any fear of hunters. They were in the euphoria and confidence of their new life, believing themselves to be invincible.
Rosen approached the group with a grim expression, surrounded by Aluru people with broken legs. Corpses and blood littered the forest. He spotted two figures; they had killed a vampire he had just transformed into. But as he gave chase, the two figures vanished, disappearing very quickly.
The only thing that can disappear so quickly is its own kind.
Rosen glanced around, the stench of blood making his eyes bloodshot. He sensed an Aruruman feigning death at his feet, silently praying not to be discovered. He smiled cruelly, kicking the Aruruman into the air. The Aruruman screamed, but Rosen caught him mid-air, pinning his hands behind his back with one hand and grabbing his head with the other. Then, he coldly looked around at the forest, waited a moment, and then suddenly bit down on the Aruruman's neck, sucking hard.
Rosen's actions aroused the surrounding vampires, who became excited again and screamed as they searched for their prey.
A crossbow bolt was fired, but the target wasn't Rosen, but one of his henchmen. The bolt struck, and then the crossbow bolts lashed out, four or five bolts instantly riddling the henchman's chest. The henchman, stunned and unable to react, collapsed to the ground.
Beside him were the poet and Jess, the mute girl.
Jessie had a broken leg. When the poet found her, he wanted to help her escape, but they were blocked under a tree by a vampire.
Rosen let out a sharp shriek and lunged into the woods. His other underlings reacted and rushed over as well.
Rosen took the lead, confident in his abilities. A vampire over a hundred years old—not considered old for a vampire—Rosen had spent a century in constant killing and drinking blood. This gave him abilities and experience far exceeding those of vampires his age. He wasn't afraid of hunters, having personally killed dozens of them. He was even less afraid of his own kind, having killed a nearly two-hundred-year-old vampire. His long-term blood-drinking had given him greater speed and strength than his opponent.
Most importantly, they knew there were no old vampires in this area because it was close to the Elf Forest, where the vampires had been wiped out during the Ten Years' War.
So, tonight, whoever it is, is going to die!
A white light flashed through the woods, followed by countless branches springing up and instantly knocking away several slow-reacting individuals.
Rosen narrowed his eyes. He saw their movement; they were moving very fast. Logically, given their speed, their strength should also be considerable. But the fact that they used traps and mechanisms suggested that this guy wasn't a powerful vampire.
Because powerful vampires would never stoop to using such things, just like himself.
Rosen and his men didn't chase for long before they surrounded the two men.
The moonlight cast a cool, silvery glow, illuminating the open space. A man and a woman stood back to back in the center of the space. The man wore a hood and leather armor, and held a short sword. The woman had long, flowing hair, and a longbow lay at her side, accentuating her curvaceous figure and drawing attention.
Rosen licked his lips. This woman reminded him of Amniel, a female elf vampire whom her mother kept as a reward for her sons and subordinates. But in recent years, he had only received a few rewards, while his mercenary brother had the opportunity to sleep with that woman almost every month.
This thought reignited Rosen's desire; his eyes grew even redder, and his breathing became more rapid. He stared intently at the female vampire, wanting to unleash all the pent-up desire he hadn't had time to vent on Amenei. As for the man beside her, he paid him no heed. A vampire using traps and mechanisms, wearing leather armor, and wielding a short sword—he was a disgrace to vampires! Such a vampire wasn't worth his time. So he charged straight at the female vampire, confident that tonight would be a perfect night.
The newborn vampires seemed to understand their leader's meaning and swarmed towards the male vampire. They were confident, even though they were newborns, the oldest no more than three months old and the youngest less than ten days old. They believed this armored vampire was a weakling who had disgraced the vampires and exposed their own incompetence. And they were not only powerful, but also numerous.
However, things did not turn out the way they expected.
As Rosen lunged at the female vampire, he suddenly fell into a trap. The trap wasn't deep, only reaching his calves. But it was filled with grayish-white ash—the powder commonly used by vampire hunters.
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