Chapter 18: Chapter 18 — Why Is the Blood Clan’s Leader This Year Such a Little abnormal?

Their flight did not last long. The First Continental Military Academy stood upon a vast, secluded island—isolated from the world by endless sea.

The island was immense, equipped with a sprawling landing field where not only the Blood Clan’s aircraft had descended.

As Chloe stepped down the ramp, she noticed another plane parked nearby. From it emerged a group of youths whose beauty was almost otherworldly—each more striking than the last. Their skin was pale as moonlight, their ears pointed, and from their backs unfurled a pair of delicate, luminous wings.

Unlike the Blood Clan’s dark, leathery bat wings, theirs glimmered crystal-clear, shimmering in radiant hues—a breathtaking sight.

Chloe stared unabashedly, curiosity gleaming in her crimson eyes. One of the winged youths noticed her gaze, snorted disdainfully, and walked away with head held high.

“Who are they?” she asked, brows arching.

“Elves,” Anderson replied from behind her. “The elven race is naturally proud and exceedingly disciplined.”

The weight of his final words carried an unspoken implication.

Chloe shot him an irritable look. “What, are you implying the Blood Clan has no discipline?”

Anderson fell silent.

Around them, fledgling vampires were darting about in chaotic curiosity, poking and prodding at anything that caught their eye—some even daring to touch the aircraft itself.

The Blood Clan’s section of the landing field had descended into noisy disorder, a sharp contrast to the elves across the way, who stood in perfect, immaculate rows.

Chloe: “…”

Anderson said nothing—but his silence spoke volumes.

Left with no choice, Chloe reached out and yanked back a fledgling who was attempting to climb onto a wing. Her voice turned sharp as steel. “Stand still!”

The young vampire froze, confusion flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth, ready to retort—until he caught a whiff of her scent.

At once, his expression shifted. He shut his mouth and went rigid.

The royal aura of the Blood Clan rolled outward like an invisible tide, spreading across the field. For a vampire, one might mistake their own parents—but never the bloodline of their royal house.

Within moments, the once-scattered fledglings instinctively gathered around Chloe and, of their own accord, fell into line.

They were pampered nobles, spoiled and quarrelsome by nature, yet before her, not one dared breathe out of turn.

Chloe surveyed the newly formed line and gave a satisfied nod.

Avi, having been a step too slow, found himself near the very back. He craned his neck to see her, only to notice that the boy named Anderson was not in the line at all—but standing just behind and to the side of Chloe, posture straight and composed.

A pang of jealousy flared in Avi’s chest.

He considered sneaking over to stand beside her too—but the moment he shifted his weight, that oppressive royal pressure surged again, slamming into him like a wall.

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He froze, terrified that one wrong move might crush him outright, though his bright blue eyes stayed locked bitterly on the back of Anderson’s head.

Damn it. Who is this smug male creature?

Soon, more aircraft landed—one bearing humans, another the werewolves.

Chloe watched with mild interest. The human children, all around twelve or thirteen, stood tall and straight, faces set with calm determination. The one at their front had an East Asian face and an aura of quiet authority.

Sensing her curiosity, Anderson leaned close and explained, “The human race is not naturally strong. To compensate, they begin rigorous training from a young age. Those children have likely already attended military academies before this.”

“And the werewolves,” he added after a pause, his tone dropping lower, “a pack of muscle-bound brutes with the intellect of a stone.”

That caught Chloe’s attention.

“Brutes with muscles for brains?” she echoed, intrigued.

She did not have to wait long to understand what he meant.

The werewolves had just disembarked.

Among the four races, they were by far the most unruly—clustered in groups, laughing loudly, draping their arms over each other’s shoulders, and debating what to eat for dinner.

One particularly bold werewolf even raised a middle finger toward the Blood Clan’s ranks, smirking with open provocation.

A murmur of fury rippled through the vampires’ formation, their composure slipping. Chloe’s cold voice rang out: “Silence!”

Instantly, the fledglings fell quiet—though their eyes still glowed with hostility, fixed on the werewolves across the field.

The feud between vampires and werewolves was ancient—engraved into their very blood.

As Chloe observed them, that instinctive loathing stirred once more.

The taunting werewolf soon noticed her gaze—and realized the Blood Clan’s leader this year was a young girl, delicate-faced and strikingly beautiful.

He grinned wide, drew a thumb across his throat, and sneered, “Didn’t expect the Blood Clan’s leader to be such a little doll. Try not to cry when training starts, sweetheart—”

Before he could finish, a sharp crack split the air.

A whip lashed through the space between them, striking the werewolf square across the chest.

The sound that followed was a howl of agony.

All eyes turned toward the source.

A woman in the Academy’s military uniform stood a short distance away—tall, poised, and coldly beautiful. Her lips curved in a faint, mocking smile as she drawled,

“It seems the werewolves this year are still nothing but muscle-headed fools who think brawn can replace brains.”

The werewolves bristled. “What did you say?!”

Her eyes lifted lazily. “Exactly what you heard.”

One of them roared in outrage and charged at her.

He didn’t make it far. With a flick of her wrist, the whip coiled around his ankle, yanked him off his feet, and slammed him hard against the ground.

Then, without pause, she lifted her arm high and brought the whip down again—its barbed edge biting deep into his back.

His screams echoed across the entire landing field.

Blow after blow landed until blood splattered the ground. Only then did the woman stop, her expression one of disdain.

“Every year, there’s at least one foolish werewolf who insists on learning his lesson the hard way,” she said coolly.

Straightening her collar, she stepped over the fallen body with unhurried grace.

“My name is Ren Yunying,” she announced, voice sharp as a blade. “I am your chief instructor for this term. From this moment on, I don’t care who you were, what title you bore, or how many bowed before you—none of it matters here.”

Her gaze lingered meaningfully on the elven ranks.

Then, clasping her hands behind her back, she continued, “You’ve just witnessed what happens when one defies an instructor’s command.”

The heel of her black combat boot pressed down on the twitching werewolf beneath her. Her smile was thin and dangerous.

“Minor offenses will earn confinement and reflection. Major ones… the whip.”

The field fell utterly silent.

Even the brash werewolves dared not breathe too loud. The whip’s force had been terrifyingly real—a single demonstration enough to subdue them all.

Ren Yunying’s satisfaction showed in the faint upward curve of her lips as she swept her gaze across the four leading figures of each race.

The elves stood proud as ever; the humans, calm and steady; the werewolves, pale and cowed.

And the vampire leader—

The vampire leader wasn’t even looking at her.

Ren Yunying blinked.

Following the girl’s gaze, she realized Chloe’s attention was fixed entirely on her whip.

There was a peculiar light in the girl’s eyes—one of fascination, almost feverish curiosity.

That whip… magnificent craftsmanship, Chloe thought. Made of black braided cord, its surface studded with backward-facing barbs that gleamed cruelly in the light. Each strike would rip away flesh, leaving a sting both burning and exquisite.

She found herself wondering—what would it feel like to wield such a weapon? Or… to be struck by it?

Ren Yunying could see the thoughts swirling behind that crimson gaze.

“…”

Good heavens, she thought faintly, suppressing a shiver.

Why on earth is the Blood Clan’s leader this year such a little abnormalt?