Chapter 70: A Complete Sweep

Unlike the brightly lit streets of New York City, the nights in the suburbs were always so tranquil. That is, until the thunderous roar of a helicopter shattered the silence and tore through the night sky.

This was an old castle nestled in the countryside. Unlike Europe, such manor castles were exceedingly rare in America. No sooner had the helicopter landed than a group of men in suits, looking every bit the bodyguard, rushed forward to block the path of Deacon Fess, whose face was grim and stormy.

“Hey, you filthy half-blood, this place is reserved for pureblood vampires—ah!”

With a deafening crash, the speaker was hurled aside by a force so powerful he never finished his sentence. Deacon Fess, his expression dark as night, overturned a black-clad man and barged into the castle without so much as a backward glance. Since becoming a vampire, this was the first time he’d been chased like a beaten dog.

“Claire, notify our people—the plan is moving forward ahead of schedule. I want everyone at Dark Night Castle immediately.”

Behind him, several vampires drew submachine guns, and with a hail of bullets, turned the group of black-clad blockers into nothing but drifting ash. Clearly, humans were not the only ones who possessed weapons capable of slaughtering vampires. As the ashes settled, in the castle’s shadowy corners, a figure entirely cloaked in black slipped amidst the chaos, infiltrating the ancient fortress.

The sound of gunfire echoed—ta-ta-ta!

Down the narrow corridor of the castle, Deacon Fess’s footsteps reverberated with a measured intensity. He charged ahead, quickly reaching the basement; with a crash, he forced open the heavy hardwood door.

Inside, a gathering of well-dressed gentlemen sat around a long conference table. At the commotion, they frowned, turning their gaze to the fierce and hostile Deacon Fess.

“Deacon Fess, this is the sacred Council of Elders. By our laws, only pureblood vampires may participate. You are breaking the rules,” said the lead elder, Gateno, his brow furrowed in displeasure.

“Enough, old man. This is no time for you to flaunt your seniority. Humanity has declared war on us. The vampires need a new order.” Deacon Fess’s tone was impatient.

“That is impossible,” another council elder replied without hesitation.

“Deacon Fess, we know you have always sought to make vampires rule over mankind, but you have not experienced battle with humans. You cannot comprehend how terrifying such a war is.”

“Neither humans nor vampires wish to relive those horrors, so stifle your ambitions and leave this place.”

Bang!

The reply came not in words, but from the cold barrel of a gun—a bullet of secret silver. Red light, like veins, instantly coursed through the elder’s body, and before the eyes of these pampered vampire elders, he exploded with a crash, reduced to ash that fell softly onto the lambskin cushions.

Eyes wide in shock, the elders shrieked like startled women, scrambling from their seats and desperately searching for cover.

Bang! Bang!

Two more shots rang out. Deacon Fess, his face grim, shouted, “If you wish to live, I suggest you keep quiet.”

The once-chaotic chamber fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. Instinctively, the vampire elders clamped their mouths shut, stifling any sound.

Gateno’s face was pale as paper; swallowing hard, he forced himself to remain calm. “Deacon Fess, do you even understand what you’re doing? This is madness.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Deacon Fess declared loudly. “I am fighting for the future of our kind. Gateno, and all of you—pureblood vampires. For years, you have hidden behind humanity, gorging yourselves like pigs on expired blood from the reserves.”

“You fancy yourselves aristocrats of the highest order, but in truth you are nothing more than pathetic creatures lurking in the darkness.”

“We do not age, nor die. We possess eternal life, so why must we hide in the shadows? We once basked in the light, yet now we wallow in darkness.”

“And it’s all because of you—because of you rotten, cowardly pureblood vampires who cling to mere survival.”

A feverish light flashed in his eyes; Deacon Fess’s gaze burned. “It’s time to change all of this. Humanity has declared war—they are no longer content with false peace. It is time, once more, to restore the glory of the vampires.”

“Your era of rule has ended. Now begins the era of the great Deacon Fess.”

“I offer you two choices. One: submit to me, pledge your loyalty, and give me twelve pureblood vampires—we will summon the almighty Blood God and rule mankind once again.”

“Two: I send you to meet your ancient ancestors, fetch twelve pureblood vampires myself, summon the Blood God, and rule mankind.”

“I give you ten seconds to decide.”

“Ten, nine, eight—”

The faces of the vampire elders grew even more grim, but in the next moment, Deacon Fess’s expression contorted even more fiercely than theirs.

“No, there is a third option!”

A cold voice suddenly echoed through the chamber, causing Deacon Fess’s face to change as he spun around.

In an instant, a shadow appeared before him. The icy blade sliced through the air with an ear-splitting shriek, and with a sickening thud, it pierced his chest.

The tremendous force drove through his body; Deacon Fess was slammed against the conference table as if struck by a truck. Blood gushed forth, soaking the yellow-brown mahogany table in a scarlet flood.

It all happened in a flash; before the elders could react, Deacon Fess was pinned to the table.

“It’s you—Blade?”

Seeing the newcomer, Gateno cried out in astonishment.

In the darkness stood a leather-clad, cold-faced black man—none other than the legendary Blade. At the mention of his name, the chamber plunged once more into chaos.

At that moment, a disgruntled voice rang out.

“Hey, hey! There are two of us here, you know. Don’t ignore your Papa Whistler, you mongrels!”

With a string of curses, a white-haired old man burst in with the agility that belied his age. In his hands was a special launcher, aimed squarely at the vampires.

Under Gateno’s terrified gaze, the launcher fired with a bang. Instead of a bomb, it released a massive steel net, opening like the maw of a ferocious beast to ensnare the vampires in an instant.

Immediately afterward, as the vampires stared in panic, Whistler pressed a button on the launcher.

Crackling with electricity, a powerful current surged through the room. In its wake, every vampire present—more than a dozen—collapsed unconscious in a haze of burnt flesh, including Deacon Fess, still bleeding profusely, pinned to the tabletop.