Chapter 135: Ascension Rite (II)
According to the pact made with the "Whisper of the Night," the Vampire Ascension Ritual demanded extraordinarily intricate requirements. Beyond the need to sacrifice 1,674 Vampire Offspring to the Malevolent Great Entity, seven meticulously cultivated avatars were required—servants of the Wicked Sovereign, each embodying one of the Seven Deadly Sins: Pride, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, and Lust. As Master, the vampire had to genuinely love these avatars with heartfelt sincerity.
When the ritual began, the avatars’ strength and blood would flow into the main body, completely absorbed by the vampire. For instance, Alykshia was the living symbol of Pride. Duke Brad had exiled his youngest son, Todd Lakanman, to the remote Sg Town, hoping the boy would grow into the perfect embodiment of Envy—ultimately becoming a flawless offering for his Ascension Rite.
But before he could savor such supreme honor, Todd was reduced to a bloody pulp by Lanpu through relentless experimentation.
“Damned Red Dragon…”
The thought sent a fresh wave of fury through Duke Brad, his jaw clenching so hard it cracked.
He needed another exceptional avatar to replace Todd—preferably a Spellcaster.
Vampiric Ascension wasn’t just about draining blood; it also consumed the full essence of the avatar’s abilities, including magical aptitude. That was precisely why Brad had spent years molding Todd into a mage.
“Spellcaster…”
Duke Brad paused, then snapped his fingers.
A memory surfaced—just days ago, he’d captured a defiant Vampire Offspring who’d spoken too boldly. The youngling was an Illusionist, and his affinity with Dark Power was undeniable.
Perfect.
A slow, cruel smile spread across his face.
Here’s a ready-made one… a fascinating prey, now completely in my grasp.
Brad relished the sensation of absolute dominion—the thrill of watching others struggle helplessly beneath his control. He savored their resistance, especially the moment their eyes filled with despair.
For a vampire long stripped of taste, that raw, desperate emotion was like the finest wine.
He licked his lips.
Such a defiant human, watching helplessly as they’re turned into a sacrificial offering… unable to fight back…
How exquisite.
How I look forward to it…
His crimson eyes gleamed with predatory anticipation.
…
“For the great Ascension…”
Langli BaiTiao stood motionless inside the Iron Cage, mimicking the mindless Blood Slaves around him, whispering the chant like a broken automaton.
Hidden beneath his tongue was the Rebel Sigil—carefully concealed, undetectable even to the most thorough guards.
The air thickened with blood mist. The Sacrificial Altar within the cage pulsed with a faint, eerie glow.
Langli BaiTiao wanted to scream.
Oh no… are they actually going to sacrifice me?
Suddenly, a crushing wave of Bloodline pressure surged through the chamber.
All the Blood Slaves collapsed to their knees, trembling like devout fanatics, licking the ground in blind reverence.
Langli BaiTiao dropped down too.
For power, he could endure anything—even humiliation.
One knee? Fine. I’ll swallow it.
But his eyes flicked sideways, stealing a glance at the intruder.
The man entered with a chilling grace—pale skin, crimson eyes, draped in a lavish black long robe edged with gold.
Brad Lakanman, Duke.
Langli BaiTiao’s heart leapt.
Finally… the old bastard shows up!
But when the Duke’s gaze swept over him, he snapped his head down instantly, silent and still.
“Good. Strength remains strong.”
Brad’s lips curled in approval.
With a flick of his hand, the sound of flapping wings echoed from the darkness. Hundreds of bats erupted from the shadows, coalescing into a massive, skeletal hand that seized Langli BaiTiao and lifted him from the cage.
Brad’s cloak billowed open as he rose into the air, hovering above the ground.
They ascended swiftly—arriving at the stone platform where the ritual would take place.
The bats dispersed.
Langli BaiTiao’s vision cleared at last.
Before him stood the other avatars—bound to stone pillars, their bodies exposed.
To an ordinary mind, the sight would have induced terror. But Langli BaiTiao’s thoughts ran on a different track.
A seasoned pervert, his eyes immediately locked onto the Duke’s eldest daughter—Alykshia Lakanman—naked, her pale, flawless body gleaming under the dim light.
Whoa… they really went all out.
And no Holy Light? Seriously?
No, Langli BaiTiao, you can’t let beauty cloud your judgment!
You’re destined to become the Game King!
He forced himself to look away, maintaining the act of a broken puppet.
Good thing Brad was too engrossed in admiring his handiwork to notice.
But in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of another captive—Yeno Lakanman, bound to a pillar as the embodiment of Sloth.
Ugh… that’s… too much.
He grimaced internally.
Then, Duke Brad turned to face him, his red eyes narrowing.
“What’s your name?”
“Langli BaiTiao.”
He answered truthfully—fear gnawing at his gut. One misstep, and this old vampire would crush him like a bug before he even got a chance to play.
Brad showed no sign of suspicion. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
“Strange name… doesn’t matter. From this moment on, you are Todd Lakanman. My youngest son, exiled to the fringes. You harbor a deep, burning envy toward your siblings. Do you understand?”
“Now… tell me again. Who are you?”
“I am Todd Lakanman. Your overlooked son.”
“Good.”
Brad nodded slightly.
He stared at the puppet before him, stroking his chin, deep in thought.
“Simply replacing Todd’s status… won’t be enough to stir true affection in me.”
Brad was a true monster—capable of manufacturing twisted, perverse love for his own ends.
But he couldn’t fabricate emotion on a whim.
Emotion and flesh are inseparable.
In mortal eyes, the most intense physical desire could easily be mistaken for love.
So…
Brad looked back at Langli BaiTiao.
His crimson pupils shimmered with a strange, hungry light—something primal, almost obscene.
Langli BaiTiao’s blood ran cold.
A terrible premonition gripped him.
Wait… what the hell is this old bastard planning?!
(End of Chapter)
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