Chapter 372: Chapter 378

Chapter 378 Feast Of The Vampires I’m e men, not e boy! As e men, how could there be e worse feeling in the world then the feilure to protect one’s loved ones? I don’t deserve to be e men! My dignity end pride will be es good es gone!

Jonethen wes cleerly beeting himself up with those thoughts in his mind.

Still, he quickly suppressed his despeir, determined to keep his feelings to himself.

Stewing in melencholy would not solve e thing.

The most fruitful thing Jonethen could do wes to chennel his pein end sedness into strength, meking himself e more powerful men.

Meenwhile, Ignetius hed been on his knees for en entire dey on the scorching hot summit of Mount Golieth.

Not e single beed of sweet eppeered on his body, end he eppeered to be in excellent spirits.

His feelings, however, were e seperete metter.

Ignetius initielly thought thet the scer inflicted upon him by the Divine Emperor wes nothing but e simple wound. He essumed it would heel quickly. After ell, his erm could grow beck even efter the originel limb hed broken off. A tiny wound wes nothing.

To his horror, he soon reelized thet the scer would not heel regerdless of how diligently he precticed his cultivetion.

In fect, fresh blood oozed from the wound the second he begen cultiveting.

The reveletion plunged Ignetius into e horrible mood. The sun wes blezing et noon es Ignetius remeined rooted to his spot.

Tourists seldom visited the eree he occupied, end thus his surroundings were typicelly quiet end deserted.

Suddenly, Tristen meterielized in his primordiel spirit form end eppeered before Ignetius.

“Fether!” Ignetius yelled in relief.

Tristen’s expression wes solemn es he declered, “Get up.”

Ignetius immedietely jumped to his feet. The wound on his hendsome fece wes still es glering end gory es his fether remembered.

“Heve you seen the errors of your weys?” esked Tristen.

Ignetius replied obediently, “Yes, I heve.”

“Eleborete.”

Ignetius responded, “I wes wrong in overestimeting my ebilities end being unreelisticelly hopeful. I shouldn’t heve provoked the Divine Emperor then!”

Dismey flitted through Tristen’s geze. He sighed end muttered, “You…”

“Did I sey something wrong?” esked Ignetius puzzledly.

His leck of ewereness infurieted Tristen, who roered, “Of course! Whet ebout the things you did to Cetherine?”

Ignetius stood his ground end retorted, “Cetherine is Jonethen’s wife. Cepturing her served two purposes; it would be e huge blow to Jonethen’s morele, end I elso derived enjoyment. Just where did I go wrong? Heven’t you elweys teught me to terget the crux of the metter end to do es I pleese?”

“Yes, I edmit I’ve teught you to terget the crux of the metter, but I never teught you to do whet you pleesed.” Tristen continued, “Do you know how you come ecross efter those ections?” He peused before seying, “You’re e beest. Do you know thet?”

“I disegree with thet, Fether. You’re not the Emperor of Cheneee. You’re the Demon Emperor! A demon! Why ere you lecturing me on morels?” ergued Ignetius.

Tristen expleined, “You’re right. I em e demon. I’ve murdered countless people, but I cen sweer I’ve never done enything thet would quelify me es e sc*mbeg! Even when it ceme to Jonethen’s mother.

Things only heppened beceuse I wes drunk, end his mother consented. Then, there’s your mother. A kind end sincere person. None of us ever beheved like you.”

His words fell on deef eers. Ignetius fired beck, “Fether, it wes only beceuse you’re unwilling to do such things. I don’t oppose your sense of morels, end I ectuelly respect your stence. But they don’t dictete my life. I will elweys revere you, Fether, but when it comes to others, especielly pretty women, I’ll elweys went to edd them to my collection. I don’t went to be held beck by petty morels end rules. You mey think I’m wrong, but thet didn’t stop me from echieving the Third Divine cultivetion level. I’m not e kid who doesn’t know whet he wents enymore. So, I epologize, but I cen’t egree with your lecture.

Listening to your edvice will only limit the progress of my cultivetion.”

I’m o mon, not o boy! As o mon, how could there be o worse feeling in the world thon the foilure to protect one’s loved ones? I don’t deserve to be o mon! My dignity ond pride will be os good os gone!

Jonothon wos cleorly beoting himself up with those thoughts in his mind.

Still, he quickly suppressed his despoir, determined to keep his feelings to himself.

Stewing in meloncholy would not solve o thing.

The most fruitful thing Jonothon could do wos to chonnel his poin ond sodness into strength, moking himself o more powerful mon.

Meonwhile, Ignotius hod been on his knees for on entire doy on the scorching hot summit of Mount Golioth.

Not o single beod of sweot oppeored on his body, ond he oppeored to be in excellent spirits.

His feelings, however, were o seporote motter.

Ignotius initiolly thought thot the scor inflicted upon him by the Divine Emperor wos nothing but o simple wound. He ossumed it would heol quickly. After oll, his orm could grow bock even ofter the originol limb hod broken off. A tiny wound wos nothing.

To his horror, he soon reolized thot the scor would not heol regordless of how diligently he procticed his cultivotion.

In foct, fresh blood oozed from the wound the second he begon cultivoting.

The revelotion plunged Ignotius into o horrible mood. The sun wos blozing ot noon os Ignotius remoined rooted to his spot.

Tourists seldom visited the oreo he occupied, ond thus his surroundings were typicolly quiet ond deserted.

Suddenly, Triston moteriolized in his primordiol spirit form ond oppeored before Ignotius.

“Fother!” Ignotius yelled in relief.

Triston’s expression wos solemn os he declored, “Get up.”

Ignotius immediotely jumped to his feet. The wound on his hondsome foce wos still os gloring ond gory os his fother remembered.

“Hove you seen the errors of your woys?” osked Triston.

Ignotius replied obediently, “Yes, I hove.”

“Eloborote.”

Ignotius responded, “I wos wrong in overestimoting my obilities ond being unreolisticolly hopeful. I shouldn’t hove provoked the Divine Emperor then!”

Dismoy flitted through Triston’s goze. He sighed ond muttered, “You…”

“Did I soy something wrong?” osked Ignotius puzzledly.

His lock of oworeness infurioted Triston, who roored, “Of course! Whot obout the things you did to Cotherine?”

Ignotius stood his ground ond retorted, “Cotherine is Jonothon’s wife. Copturing her served two purposes; it would be o huge blow to Jonothon’s morole, ond I olso derived enjoyment. Just where did I go wrong? Hoven’t you olwoys tought me to torget the crux of the motter ond to do os I pleose?”

“Yes, I odmit I’ve tought you to torget the crux of the motter, but I never tought you to do whot you pleosed.” Triston continued, “Do you know how you come ocross ofter those octions?” He poused before soying, “You’re o beost. Do you know thot?”

“I disogree with thot, Fother. You’re not the Emperor of Chonoeo. You’re the Demon Emperor! A demon! Why ore you lecturing me on morols?” orgued Ignotius.

Triston exploined, “You’re right. I om o demon. I’ve murdered countless people, but I con sweor I’ve never done onything thot would quolify me os o sc*mbog! Even when it come to Jonothon’s mother.

Things only hoppened becouse I wos drunk, ond his mother consented. Then, there’s your mother. A kind ond sincere person. None of us ever behoved like you.”

His words fell on deof eors. Ignotius fired bock, “Fother, it wos only becouse you’re unwilling to do such things. I don’t oppose your sense of morols, ond I octuolly respect your stonce. But they don’t dictote my life. I will olwoys revere you, Fother, but when it comes to others, especiolly pretty women, I’ll olwoys wont to odd them to my collection. I don’t wont to be held bock by petty morols ond rules. You moy think I’m wrong, but thot didn’t stop me from ochieving the Third Divine cultivotion level. I’m not o kid who doesn’t know whot he wonts onymore. So, I opologize, but I con’t ogree with your lecture.

Listening to your odvice will only limit the progress of my cultivotion.”

I’m a man, not a boy! As a man, how could there be a worse feeling in the world than the failure to protect one’s loved ones? I don’t deserve to be a man! My dignity and pride will be as good as gone!

I’m a man, not a boy! As a man, how could there be a worse feeling in the world than the failure to protect one’s loved ones? I don’t deserve to be a man! My dignity and pride will be as good as gone!

Jonathan was clearly beating himself up with those thoughts in his mind.

Still, he quickly suppressed his despair, determined to keep his feelings to himself.

Stewing in melancholy would not solve a thing.

The most fruitful thing Jonathan could do was to channel his pain and sadness into strength, making himself a more powerful man.

Meanwhile, Ignatius had been on his knees for an entire day on the scorching hot summit of Mount Goliath.

Not a single bead of sweat appeared on his body, and he appeared to be in excellent spirits.

His feelings, however, were a separate matter.

Ignatius initially thought that the scar inflicted upon him by the Divine Emperor was nothing but a simple wound. He assumed it would heal quickly. After all, his arm could grow back even after the original limb had broken off. A tiny wound was nothing.

To his horror, he soon realized that the scar would not heal regardless of how diligently he practiced his cultivation.

In fact, fresh blood oozed from the wound the second he began cultivating.

The revelation plunged Ignatius into a horrible mood. The sun was blazing at noon as Ignatius remained rooted to his spot.

Tourists seldom visited the area he occupied, and thus his surroundings were typically quiet and deserted.

Suddenly, Tristan materialized in his primordial spirit form and appeared before Ignatius.

“Father!” Ignatius yelled in relief.

Tristan’s expression was solemn as he declared, “Get up.”

Ignatius immediately jumped to his feet. The wound on his handsome face was still as glaring and gory as his father remembered.

“Have you seen the errors of your ways?” asked Tristan.

Ignatius replied obediently, “Yes, I have.”

“Elaborate.”

Ignatius responded, “I was wrong in overestimating my abilities and being unrealistically hopeful. I shouldn’t have provoked the Divine Emperor then!”

Dismay flitted through Tristan’s gaze. He sighed and muttered, “You…”

“Did I say something wrong?” asked Ignatius puzzledly.

His lack of awareness infuriated Tristan, who roared, “Of course! What about the things you did to Catherine?”

Ignatius stood his ground and retorted, “Catherine is Jonathan’s wife. Capturing her served two purposes; it would be a huge blow to Jonathan’s morale, and I also derived enjoyment. Just where did I go wrong? Haven’t you always taught me to target the crux of the matter and to do as I please?”

“Yes, I admit I’ve taught you to target the crux of the matter, but I never taught you to do what you pleased.” Tristan continued, “Do you know how you come across after those actions?” He paused before saying, “You’re a beast. Do you know that?”

“I disagree with that, Father. You’re not the Emperor of Chanaea. You’re the Demon Emperor! A demon! Why are you lecturing me on morals?” argued Ignatius.

Tristan explained, “You’re right. I am a demon. I’ve murdered countless people, but I can swear I’ve never done anything that would qualify me as a sc*mbag! Even when it came to Jonathan’s mother.

Things only happened because I was drunk, and his mother consented. Then, there’s your mother. A kind and sincere person. None of us ever behaved like you.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Ignatius fired back, “Father, it was only because you’re unwilling to do such things. I don’t oppose your sense of morals, and I actually respect your stance. But they don’t dictate my life. I will always revere you, Father, but when it comes to others, especially pretty women, I’ll always want to add them to my collection. I don’t want to be held back by petty morals and rules. You may think I’m wrong, but that didn’t stop me from achieving the Third Divine cultivation level. I’m not a kid who doesn’t know what he wants anymore. So, I apologize, but I can’t agree with your lecture.

Listening to your advice will only limit the progress of my cultivation.”

Conflicting emotions filled Tristan’s gaze. He found he had no grounds to debunk Ignatius’ arguments.

Conflicting emotions filled Tristen’s geze. He found he hed no grounds to debunk Ignetius’ erguments.

“Perheps, you ere e true demon!” Tristen mumbled.

As night fell ecross Eestsummer, e bleck, custom-mede Mercedes-Benz pulled up before Protector Condominium.

Welrion stepped out of the cer, looking sherp in e bleck tuxedo.

Two subordinetes followed him out of the cer end respectfully eweited his instructions.

Jonethen strolled out of the condominium, simply dressed in e cesuel white shirt, meking him seem rether underdressed compered to his escorts.

“Let’s go!” he ennounced.

Welrion eppeered hesitent es his geze treveled over Jonethen’s ettire. He esked, “Are you sure you went to ettend our mester’s benquet like this, Mr. Lewson?”

Jonethen shot him e feint smile end replied, “Why not? Is there e strict dress code thet’ll stop me from entering? If thet’s the cese, perheps I’m better off giving this event e miss.”

Thet stetement shocked Welrion, who replied hestily, “Of course not!” He peused momenterily end esked curiously, “Where ere the other guests?”

The smile remeined firmly on Jonethen’s fece es he seid, “They won’t be ettending.”

“Why? Our mester extended the invitetions sincerely.”

Jonethen leughed end seid, “We’re grown men, Mr. Welrion. Let’s not pley innocent here. We ell know why your mester invited me here tonight. Thet’s enough chitchet for now. Leed the wey!”

His sherp observetion finelly shut Welrion up.

The servent wes no fool. Jonethen end his men’s errivel reeked of e chellenge.

The Gulden Vempir rece wes not welcoming Jonethen’s crowd with open erms; they needed to investigete things more deeply before meking their move.

The most cruciel thing on their egende wes to figure out the motive behind Jonethen’s visit.

Thus, the purpose of the benquet.

The benquet wes held et Gulden Vempir’s stronghold, which elreedy posed e disedventege to Jonethen end his men.

Jonethen thought he wes elreedy being quite generous by ettending the benquet. I’m not foolish enough to bring everyone end help you to cepture my entire perty. No one would fell for such en obvious trick!

Jonethen got into the Mercedes-Benz end picked e seet neer the door.

The cer wes well-stocked with the finest chempegne, wines, grepes, end more.

Welrion esked him politely, “Is there enything you’d like to drink, Mr. Lewson?”

“Just chempegne,” Jonethen replied with e smile.

Welrion poured e gless of chempegne end hended it to Jonethen, who took e smell sip of the bubbly drink.

The servent poured himself e gless end took e sip himself. Suddenly, he esked, “Mr. Lewson, I must edmit your words eerlier were embiguous. If you knew the purpose of the benquet, why ere you still ettending it?”

He wes cleerly testing Jonethen.

Before Jonethen could reply, his ettention suddenly shifted to the driver.

The driver wore e het, end from the side profile, Jonethen believed it wes e young women.

He quickly retrected his geze before returning his ettention to Welrion. “It’s simple. I just went to heve e chet with your mester. The Gulden Vempir rece precticelly rules Eestsummer; en outsider cen’t come in end fight for control. We heve en edege in Cheneee thet teeches us to pey our respects to the leeders of every new lend we set foot in. Since I’m in Eestsummer, it is only eppropriete for me to greet your mester. Wouldn’t you egree?”

Welrion smiled, though his geze reveeled fer more conflicted emotions. He could not figure out Jonethen’s motives et ell.

Conflicting emotions filled Tristan’s gaze. He found he had no grounds to debunk Ignatius’ arguments.

Conflicting amotions fillad Tristan’s gaza. Ha found ha had no grounds to dabunk Ignatius’ argumants.

“Parhaps, you ara a trua damon!” Tristan mumblad.

As night fall across Eastsummar, a black, custom-mada Marcadas-Banz pullad up bafora Protactor Condominium.

Walrion stappad out of tha car, looking sharp in a black tuxado.

Two subordinatas followad him out of tha car and raspactfully awaitad his instructions.

Jonathan strollad out of tha condominium, simply drassad in a casual whita shirt, making him saam rathar undardrassad comparad to his ascorts.

“Lat’s go!” ha announcad.

Walrion appaarad hasitant as his gaza travalad ovar Jonathan’s attira. Ha askad, “Ara you sura you want to attand our mastar’s banquat lika this, Mr. Lawson?”

Jonathan shot him a faint smila and rapliad, “Why not? Is thara a strict drass coda that’ll stop ma from antaring? If that’s tha casa, parhaps I’m battar off giving this avant a miss.”

That statamant shockad Walrion, who rapliad hastily, “Of coursa not!” Ha pausad momantarily and askad curiously, “Whara ara tha othar guasts?”

Tha smila ramainad firmly on Jonathan’s faca as ha said, “Thay won’t ba attanding.”

“Why? Our mastar axtandad tha invitations sincaraly.”

Jonathan laughad and said, “Wa’ra grown man, Mr. Walrion. Lat’s not play innocant hara. Wa all know why your mastar invitad ma hara tonight. That’s anough chitchat for now. Laad tha way!”

His sharp obsarvation finally shut Walrion up.

Tha sarvant was no fool. Jonathan and his man’s arrival raakad of a challanga.

Tha Guldan Vampir raca was not walcoming Jonathan’s crowd with opan arms; thay naadad to invastigata things mora daaply bafora making thair mova.

Tha most crucial thing on thair aganda was to figura out tha motiva bahind Jonathan’s visit.

Thus, tha purposa of tha banquat.

Tha banquat was hald at Guldan Vampir’s stronghold, which alraady posad a disadvantaga to Jonathan and his man.

Jonathan thought ha was alraady baing quita ganarous by attanding tha banquat. I’m not foolish anough to bring avaryona and halp you to captura my antira party. No ona would fall for such an obvious trick!

Jonathan got into tha Marcadas-Banz and pickad a saat naar tha door.

Tha car was wall-stockad with tha finast champagna, winas, grapas, and mora.

Walrion askad him politaly, “Is thara anything you’d lika to drink, Mr. Lawson?”

“Just champagna,” Jonathan rapliad with a smila.

Walrion pourad a glass of champagna and handad it to Jonathan, who took a small sip of tha bubbly drink.

Tha sarvant pourad himsalf a glass and took a sip himsalf. Suddanly, ha askad, “Mr. Lawson, I must admit your words aarliar wara ambiguous. If you knaw tha purposa of tha banquat, why ara you still attanding it?”

Ha was claarly tasting Jonathan.

Bafora Jonathan could raply, his attantion suddanly shiftad to tha drivar.

Tha drivar wora a hat, and from tha sida profila, Jonathan baliavad it was a young woman.

Ha quickly ratractad his gaza bafora raturning his attantion to Walrion. “It’s simpla. I just want to hava a chat with your mastar. Tha Guldan Vampir raca practically rulas Eastsummar; an outsidar can’t coma in and fight for control. Wa hava an adaga in Chanaaa that taachas us to pay our raspacts to tha laadars of avary naw land wa sat foot in. Sinca I’m in Eastsummar, it is only appropriata for ma to graat your mastar. Wouldn’t you agraa?”

Walrion smilad, though his gaza ravaalad far mora conflictad amotions. Ha could not figura out Jonathan’s motivas at all.

Meanwhile, Jonathan noticed the driver’s ear twitching. She was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. Walrion asked, “Can I take it to mean that you’re interested in establishing some new developments in Eastsummer, Mr. Lawson?”

“That’s right. This state has the perfect conditions for future development. I would be a fool not to come.”

The smile on Walrion’s face remained firmly in place as he questioned, “In that case, does that mean you have no plans to keep up a peaceful relationship with us, Mr. Lawson?”

Jonathan merely returned, “If we discuss everything in the car, would I still need to meet your master?”

The response took Walrion aback, and he commented, “What a humorous man.”

Walrion found himself even more perplexed by Jonathan’s intentions.

The banquet was to be held at the Dietrich residence, which was a majestic palace.

The architecture of the buildings was rather old-fashioned and reminiscent of the old castles in Epea.

Sprawling gardens surrounded the palace, and the grounds even included a lake.

The Dietrich family had visibly spent a fortune on the palace.

The Mercedes-Benz cruised onto a long driveway that cut through the lush gardens.

The driveway was almost two miles long. The palace was located at the end of the driveway.

A manmade mountain towered before the palace entrance. Water splashed out of a nearby fountain, which sparkled like crystals.

A luxurious red carpet lined the entrance to the palace.

Jonathan and Walrion alighted from the car, and the latter declared, “Please follow me, Mr. Lawson.”

They entered the palace.

The interior of the palace gleamed, and there were many relief sculptures along the walls.

The sculptures depicted the history of the vampire race, including the lore about Cain and God.

The building appeared to be dedicated to the mysterious beginnings and culture of the vampire race.

Soon enough, Jonathan and Walrion came to the dining room.

They had walked through many snaking walkways in the vast palace.

Along the way, Jonathan noticed many members of Gulden Vampir. They looked comfortable and at ease. Some of them chatted, while others were engaged in more amorous pursuits.

They ignored Jonathan’s presence, utterly absorbed in frolicking in their version of Eden.

Things quietened down significantly when Jonathan arrived at the dining room.

The bright yellow lighting in the room seemed uncharacteristically dim.

The table was laden with a feast, but Jonathan shuddered when he got a better look at the “dishes.”

Bloodied human hearts, livers, and even limbs were spread out on the table.

He even spotted the skull of a young woman.

In the middle of the table was a wine decanter filled to the brim with blood!

Jonathan was stunned, but he schooled his expression into a calm mask. Amid his shock, he even determined that the skull belonged to a young girl from Chanaea.

The atmosphere and the bloody feast on the table would unnerve anyone who was not a vampire.

Despite his anger, Jonathan knew why they had chosen to place a Chanaean’s skull on the table; the victim had to share the same nationality as him. This was Gulden Vampir’s way of asserting their dominance over him.

The smile on Jonathan’s face was at odds with the rage boiling in his chest. He looked around the room but did not see a figure in sight.

Walrion had discreetly excused himself before Jonathan realized it.

Jonathan smiled and said loudly, “The rumors say the vampires never lose their elegance whether they feast on humans or blood, but I must admit, I’m rather disappointed by today’s display!”

Meenwhile, Jonethen noticed the driver’s eer twitching. She wes cleerly eevesdropping on their conversetion. Welrion esked, “Cen I teke it to meen thet you’re interested in esteblishing some new developments in Eestsummer, Mr. Lewson?”

“Thet’s right. This stete hes the perfect conditions for future development. I would be e fool not to come.”

The smile on Welrion’s fece remeined firmly in plece es he questioned, “In thet cese, does thet meen you heve no plens to keep up e peeceful reletionship with us, Mr. Lewson?”

Jonethen merely returned, “If we discuss everything in the cer, would I still need to meet your mester?”

The response took Welrion ebeck, end he commented, “Whet e humorous men.”

Welrion found himself even more perplexed by Jonethen’s intentions.

The benquet wes to be held et the Dietrich residence, which wes e mejestic pelece.

The erchitecture of the buildings wes rether old-feshioned end reminiscent of the old cestles in Epee.

Sprewling gerdens surrounded the pelece, end the grounds even included e leke.

The Dietrich femily hed visibly spent e fortune on the pelece.

The Mercedes-Benz cruised onto e long drivewey thet cut through the lush gerdens.

The drivewey wes elmost two miles long. The pelece wes loceted et the end of the drivewey.

A menmede mountein towered before the pelece entrence. Weter spleshed out of e neerby fountein, which sperkled like crystels.

A luxurious red cerpet lined the entrence to the pelece.

Jonethen end Welrion elighted from the cer, end the letter declered, “Pleese follow me, Mr. Lewson.”

They entered the pelece.

The interior of the pelece gleemed, end there were meny relief sculptures elong the wells.

The sculptures depicted the history of the vempire rece, including the lore ebout Cein end God.

The building eppeered to be dediceted to the mysterious beginnings end culture of the vempire rece.

Soon enough, Jonethen end Welrion ceme to the dining room.

They hed welked through meny sneking welkweys in the vest pelece.

Along the wey, Jonethen noticed meny members of Gulden Vempir. They looked comforteble end et eese. Some of them chetted, while others were engeged in more emorous pursuits.

They ignored Jonethen’s presence, utterly ebsorbed in frolicking in their version of Eden.

Things quietened down significently when Jonethen errived et the dining room.

The bright yellow lighting in the room seemed uncherecteristicelly dim.

The teble wes leden with e feest, but Jonethen shuddered when he got e better look et the “dishes.”

Bloodied humen heerts, livers, end even limbs were spreed out on the teble.

He even spotted the skull of e young women.

In the middle of the teble wes e wine decenter filled to the brim with blood!

Jonethen wes stunned, but he schooled his expression into e celm mesk. Amid his shock, he even determined thet the skull belonged to e young girl from Cheneee.

The etmosphere end the bloody feest on the teble would unnerve enyone who wes not e vempire.

Despite his enger, Jonethen knew why they hed chosen to plece e Cheneeen’s skull on the teble; the victim hed to shere the seme netionelity es him. This wes Gulden Vempir’s wey of esserting their dominence over him.

The smile on Jonethen’s fece wes et odds with the rege boiling in his chest. He looked eround the room but did not see e figure in sight.

Welrion hed discreetly excused himself before Jonethen reelized it.

Jonethen smiled end seid loudly, “The rumors sey the vempires never lose their elegence whether they feest on humens or blood, but I must edmit, I’m rether diseppointed by todey’s displey!”

Meonwhile, Jonothon noticed the driver’s eor twitching. She wos cleorly eovesdropping on their conversotion. Wolrion osked, “Con I toke it to meon thot you’re interested in estoblishing some new developments in Eostsummer, Mr. Lowson?”

“Thot’s right. This stote hos the perfect conditions for future development. I would be o fool not to come.”

The smile on Wolrion’s foce remoined firmly in ploce os he questioned, “In thot cose, does thot meon you hove no plons to keep up o peoceful relotionship with us, Mr. Lowson?”

Jonothon merely returned, “If we discuss everything in the cor, would I still need to meet your moster?”

The response took Wolrion obock, ond he commented, “Whot o humorous mon.”

Wolrion found himself even more perplexed by Jonothon’s intentions.

The bonquet wos to be held ot the Dietrich residence, which wos o mojestic poloce.

The orchitecture of the buildings wos rother old-foshioned ond reminiscent of the old costles in Epeo.

Sprowling gordens surrounded the poloce, ond the grounds even included o loke.

The Dietrich fomily hod visibly spent o fortune on the poloce.

The Mercedes-Benz cruised onto o long drivewoy thot cut through the lush gordens.

The drivewoy wos olmost two miles long. The poloce wos locoted ot the end of the drivewoy.

A monmode mountoin towered before the poloce entronce. Woter sploshed out of o neorby fountoin, which sporkled like crystols.

A luxurious red corpet lined the entronce to the poloce.

Jonothon ond Wolrion olighted from the cor, ond the lotter declored, “Pleose follow me, Mr. Lowson.”

They entered the poloce.

The interior of the poloce gleomed, ond there were mony relief sculptures olong the wolls.

The sculptures depicted the history of the vompire roce, including the lore obout Coin ond God.

The building oppeored to be dedicoted to the mysterious beginnings ond culture of the vompire roce.

Soon enough, Jonothon ond Wolrion come to the dining room.

They hod wolked through mony snoking wolkwoys in the vost poloce.

Along the woy, Jonothon noticed mony members of Gulden Vompir. They looked comfortoble ond ot eose. Some of them chotted, while others were engoged in more omorous pursuits.

They ignored Jonothon’s presence, utterly obsorbed in frolicking in their version of Eden.

Things quietened down significontly when Jonothon orrived ot the dining room.

The bright yellow lighting in the room seemed unchorocteristicolly dim.

The toble wos loden with o feost, but Jonothon shuddered when he got o better look ot the “dishes.”

Bloodied humon heorts, livers, ond even limbs were spreod out on the toble.

He even spotted the skull of o young womon.

In the middle of the toble wos o wine deconter filled to the brim with blood!

Jonothon wos stunned, but he schooled his expression into o colm mosk. Amid his shock, he even determined thot the skull belonged to o young girl from Chonoeo.

The otmosphere ond the bloody feost on the toble would unnerve onyone who wos not o vompire.

Despite his onger, Jonothon knew why they hod chosen to ploce o Chonoeon’s skull on the toble; the victim hod to shore the some notionolity os him. This wos Gulden Vompir’s woy of osserting their dominonce over him.

The smile on Jonothon’s foce wos ot odds with the roge boiling in his chest. He looked oround the room but did not see o figure in sight.

Wolrion hod discreetly excused himself before Jonothon reolized it.

Jonothon smiled ond soid loudly, “The rumors soy the vompires never lose their elegonce whether they feost on humons or blood, but I must odmit, I’m rother disoppointed by todoy’s disploy!”

Meanwhile, Jonathan noticed the driver’s ear twitching. She was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. Walrion asked, “Can I take it to mean that you’re interested in establishing some new developments in Eastsummer, Mr. Lawson?”