Chapter 2389 - Elder of the Blood Tribe (2/2)
He walked down the street and saw an old man approaching him.
The old man was wearing a fine tuxedo with a dark red cape draped over his shoulders. A street lamp was right above him, but it failed to project the old man’s shadow.
“Mo Fan, take a closer look at the mist,” Lingling whispered.
Mo Fan looked around and noticed faint airflows that looked like tiny red strings. One end was extending to the old man’s nose, the other end connected to the nearby buildings.
“Mo Fan, the balconies…” Lingling pointed at the buildings.
The residents who were supposed to be fast asleep had woken up. They were standing on the balconies, the roofs, and close to the windows with their eyes closed, like they were still asleep.
The red strings of air were being drawn from their eyes, noses, and ears.
More red threads appeared in the mist. The old man was greedily drinking down the blood of the sleepwalking residents, like several thousand tubes were connected to him.
Mo Fan stared at the old man in astonishment. He was clearly a member of the Blood Tribe.
The Blood Tribe Mo Fan knew only dared to sneak around in dark alleyways and climb into someone’s room through the windows after they were put to sleep. Most members of the Blood Tribe did not dare harm a human, as it might expose them.
The Magic City had many members of the Blood Tribe, but the Hunters often turned a blind eye because the Blood Tribe members were no longer behaving like savage creatures. They drank human blood without taking lives.
The Blood Tribe would also refrain from drinking blood from the same person twice in the same month, so they would not harm the person.
However, the old man standing in front of Mo Fan was powerful enough to put the residents of the town into a sleepwalking state while drinking their blood from several streets away.
“He’s an elder of the Blood Tribe,” Lingling judged.
“What do you mean?”
“It means he’s been around for at least a thousand years. He’s among the first batch of the Blood Tribe… similar to Bola,” Lingling clarified.
“Oh, are those people going to be fine?” Mo Fan asked, worried for them.
“For now, but if he keeps drinking their blood, they are all going to die. He’s using their blood to strengthen himself. You must defeat him as soon as possible, or he will gradually become stronger,” Lingling warned him.
Mo Fan nodded.
“Tsk tsk…” the old man chuckled eerily. He stared at Mo Fan and sniffed his scent.
“What fresh and flourishing blood, the blood of a young and powerful Mage like you is supposed to be part of a delicate collection in my cellar. The blood of these mundanes doesn’t really fit my tastes as a high-level member of the Blood Tribe. I seriously wonder why the younger generation is willing to live like street rats, just to drink blood that tastes like piss,” the old man began speaking.
“I’m the Duke of Syam, born in 1029 and died in…”
Mo Fan was already charging at Duke of Syam before he could finish introducing himself.
1
Mo Fan rammed into Duke of Syam like a lightning tank. Electrical arcs crackled along the street as the collision sent the Duke of Syam flying into a car park full of abandoned cars, smashing several rusted trucks to pieces.
The spare parts of the trucks scattered in the air. The lightning arcs ignited huge sparks in the air.
The Duke of Syam was enraged. He climbed to his feet and took a deep breath from the blood strings being drawn to him.
The blood of the residents was still flowing into his nose even after he was knocked flying by Mo Fan!
“Don’t you feel ashamed not knowing whose hands you are soon going to die at!?” the Duke of Syam snarled at him.