Chapter 1598 - 106: Interrogation

Wei’Er paid no heed to the slightly astonished gazes of the crowd, speaking to herself, "What? Is it so hard to deduce?"

She leapt down from Bologue’s shoulder, searching among the ruins. In the dim environment, her pupils expanded into two pitch-black dots, capturing more light.

"In the end, the blood citizens are merely fodder to the Night Race. Even if they can be converted into Bloodthirsties, in today’s era, a large number of Bloodthirsties in front of a High Tier Condenser are just a crop of straw to be harvested easily."

Wei’Er licked her paws, her sound mind long confined within an animal’s shell, causing her actions to align closely with animal instincts.

"But if they’re used as tributes to awaken the Sin of Wrath, it would undeniably be more effective for the upcoming situation."

Bologue listened to Wei’Er’s words and asked, "Is that the purpose of your trip?"

"Serey’s job is to mend his mistakes, and you, Wei’Er," Bologue realized then, "you bear Sai Zong’s orders to resolve the crisis of awakening the Sin of Wrath?"

"More or less," Wei’Er displayed a leisurely demeanor, as if everything was within her plan, "Sai Zong wouldn’t trust such a wretch with the task."

A disdainful glance fell upon Serey, who shrugged, maintaining his indifferent look. No mockery could wound this shameless fellow.

"Alright, time to go. It’d be even better if we could get some fresh blood from inside," Serey murmured, "For the Night Race, blood isn’t just food, a good potion for suppressing Bloodthirsty Syndrome, but also a maddening stimulant."

Bologue asked, "Are you going to drink blood?"

"We’ll see," Serey lamented, "Since the Dawn War, I haven’t tasted human blood."

After retiring from the Undying Club, Serey has been drinking animal blood and some synthetically created potions, suppressing his Bloodthirsty Syndrome through various means. Over time, he got used to their sour and bitter flavors.

"I thought this operation would be more tense."

Palmer took a minute to adapt to the atmosphere. This operation was supposed to be dangerous, but now surprisingly... relaxed?

Thinking carefully, it seemed every operation had a similar style. In deadly situations, everyone still had the leisure to joke around. No one knew where this vibe originated.

Hinda remained silent, unable to integrate into this peculiar team for now, but in her vigilance, Hinda could tell that the guy named Church had completely disappeared from her perception.

Among the varied moods of the crowd, only Hinda was filled with unease. She wondered if she was overly tense or the others were not professional enough.

...

After the blood citizens were transferred away, the Blood Tax Station was empty, even the Blood Tax officers didn’t stay back. Inwardly, they might be smug, glad that they weren’t part of the cage. But they never considered that there was no difference between them and the blood citizens. They were both livestock that could produce fresh blood, merely granted the authority to manage others like them.

"Clean this place up."

Medi stood on the high platform of the Blood Tax Station, issuing orders to the other Night Race. Brief responses echoed, followed by the sharp sounds of chopping and cutting.

The air carried a hint of blood, and indistinct sobs arrived belatedly.

The Night Race dragged terrified blood citizens out from storage rooms, corridor corners, and shadows. After living long under terror’s high pressure, the blood citizens were adept at avoidance; noticing anything amiss, they quickly hid, thinking the Night Race wouldn’t notice the crevices within the Blood Tax Station. But they never realized how fresh their living scents were.

"How should we handle them?"

The Night Race inquired with respect. Medi was the manager of this Blood Tax Station and one of the few Pure-blood Night Race in the old city. The class differences among the Night Race were steadfast due to bloodline disparities.

Medi remarked meaningfully, "Remember what I said before? The blood citizens here have been moved."

The Night Race hesitated a few seconds, understanding Medi’s words, then displayed a terrifying smile.

"I understand."

The Night Race turned, gesturing to others. The Night Race emitted a peculiar burst of laughter, then pinned the remaining blood citizens on the blood extraction machines.

Slim needles pierced their bodies, the blood citizens pleading and wailing, but this didn’t stop their blood from being continuously drawn out and drained.

Soon, several blood citizens were on the brink of death, few already unconscious from massive blood loss.

Some Night Race couldn’t contain their restive hearts, dragging an unconscious blood citizen from the blood machine, biting into his neck and drinking deeply. The blood citizen deflated like a shriveled balloon, skin tightening over protruding bones, already pale skin faded like a frozen corpse.

Discarding the dead blood citizen, the Night Race wiped his lips. The blood satisfied his inner restlessness, and his muddled tired spirit, akin to being injected with a stimulant, surged with vigor.

Medi glanced around, coldly stating, "Keep it tidy."

Initially, blood citizens were directly managed by the Night Race, but many Night Race couldn’t suppress their restlessness, recklessly slaughtering blood citizens, significantly reducing conversion efficiency.