In the blood vortex within his throat, countless shattered golden runes condensed into a book with a bck cover, its surface glowing with countless points of golden light. The corrosive force that had been devouring his body, as toxic as venom, finally settled down, allowing Charlot Mecklenburg to activate Blood Glory and begin to digest it.

  Half an hour ter, Charlot had completely absorbed the life essence of this blood servant. The sixth blood vortex in his throat stabilized, and he could sense the book within the vortex—its bck cover gleaming with countless golden lights. Yet when he recalled the mysterious voice and that supreme will, a chill ran through his heart.

  He knew exactly what it was.

  This wasn’t his first time encountering such a thing.

  It was the remnant of a vampiric evil god.

  Charlot couldn’t help but wonder, “Do I have some sort of trait? Am I particurly good at attracting evil gods?”

  “Why can’t I get a blessing from a proper god for once? If not from the Nine Supreme Gods, then at least from one of their servant deities or lesser attendants!”

  Charlot looked up at the sky. Of course, he couldn’t see anything.

  After all, he was just a sixth-rank transcendent; there was no way he could gaze across the void to see anything beyond.

  Opening the sixth blood vortex—something even Blood Glory didn’t document—Charlot officially ascended to the sixth rank.

  The most remarkable part was that he also condensed a rune of Blood Cn Verbal Spellcasting, gaining his fifth extraordinary ability.

  However, Arthur Cn techniques always required painstaking practice. While Charlot had formed the bloody rune for Blood Cn Verbal Spellcasting, he had yet to begin practicing any specific spell under this discipline and thus couldn’t cast any verbal spell techniques yet.

  Even so, Charlot was quite satisfied. He buried the corpse of Lord Leo’s blood servant and set off in search of another.

  ...

  This time, Charlot once again hurled his vampiric axe from a distance. The target blood servant was far more cautious, especially since his companion had disappeared without a trace. Vigint and suspicious, the blood servant swung his arm around and directly blocked the vampiric axe with his flesh and blood.

  The vampiric axe was knocked back. Charlot extended his hand and summoned it back, utterly surprised by the blood servant’s raw physical strength.

  Soon, he discovered the reason. The Arthur Cn Vampiric Scrolls documented a body-tempering secret art called “Blood Butcher”.

  He vaguely recalled gncing over it while flipping through the scroll. This art was exceedingly crude, designed specifically for blood servants; proper blood cns rarely practiced it.

  The Blood Butcher method essentially turned the body into a weapon, refining muscles, bones, and sinew until they were as hard as steel. Those who practiced it gained extraordinary physical resilience and could fight until their very st breath.

  Charlot activated his vampiric axe and tried again, but his attacks were once more blocked by the blood servant. After two more attempts, Charlot gave up. There was no need to waste effort now.

  The blood servant was trapped in his byrinth. As time passed, the servant’s strength would wane, and Charlot could finish him off effortlessly ter. Why bother struggling now?

  Charlot put away the vampiric axe, letting the blood servant struggle alone, and returned to the West Wind Knights’ camp.

  ...

  When Dolores Soumet saw him return, she couldn’t help but say, “We can’t stay here any longer. There aren’t enough vilges nearby to gather food. We must move quickly and resupply along the way.”

  Charlot shook his head. “We must stay here for exactly eighteen days.”

  “Cut the rations if needed. A little hunger won’t hurt anyone.”

  He needed time to complete the second yer of his byrinth. Compared to this task, letting the West Wind Knights go hungry for a few days was nothing. Charlot had already calcuted that no one would starve to death.

  Dolores murmured, “Aren’t you afraid they’ll rebel?”

  “If over three thousand people riot, there’ll be no stopping it.”

  Charlot smiled faintly. “That’s the st thing I’m afraid of.”

  In the Machubi Fortress Labyrinth, a bunch of NPCs couldn’t stage much of a rebellion.

  Charlot even thought that keeping them hungry might teach them a valuable lesson about “discipline.” He had already decided that he wouldn’t leave before completing the second byrinth yer. Food distribution would be tightly controlled—those who obeyed would eat, and those who didn’t would starve.

  Seeing that Charlot refused to listen, Dolores had no choice but to prepare contingency pns.

  ...

  The Machubi region was desote, its vilges sparse and poor. Coupled with Charlot’s stubbornness, the West Wind Knights quickly fell into hardship. Food rations were reduced to tiny portions of bck bread, with only water provided in abundance thanks to a spring within the fortress.

  The worst part was that Charlot frequently disappeared. Aside from the food-gathering teams, others attempting to escape often found themselves hopelessly lost within the fortress. Sometimes, they were only a step away from the main gate, yet inexplicably ended up somewhere completely different.

  Resentment grew among the knights.

  Dubin Alger, Yellow Bear, Dolores, and Frederica—the orc assassin—were forced to step in to quell tensions. Yet no matter how hard they tried, the situation worsened.

  ...

  As the days passed, the West Wind Knights became a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest spark.

  Then, one morning, even the food-gathering teams failed to leave the fortress. Chaos erupted. Knights began shouting, demanding that Charlot come out and give them an expnation. Despite Dubin, Yellow Bear, Dolores, and Frederica’s best efforts to pacify the crowd, their efforts were in vain.

  Soon, fights broke out. Dubin and his city patrol comrades managed to suppress a dozen skirmishes, but three thousand men were simply too many. The situation spiraled out of control.

  The knights, an unruly mix of prisoners, mercenaries, and adventurers, turned on one another, hurling insults and threats. Some even surrounded the leaders, fists clenched and weapons drawn.

  Dolores, a third-rank card magician, was at her wit’s end. She clutched a “Magic Card: Open Gate”, ready to escape if necessary. This card could open a doorway through any wall. Yet even now, she made one st effort to de-escate the crisis.

  Suddenly, someone shouted, “These bastards have deceived us! Grab them and force them to show us the way out!”

  Others immediately echoed the call.

  The situation had reached its breaking point. One final spark, and everything would colpse beyond recovery.