Chapter 487 - Kill To The End Of Hell

"Where is it?" A hoarse female voice echoed from outside the building.

Soon after, the walls in all directions creaked as if they were under incredible strain, as scraping noises rang out.

Clink, clink, clink.

Windows shattered one by one, scattering shards of glass. Nine massive python heads, each as thick as a barrel, poked in, their eyes crimson like blood.

In that moment, Count Bain felt as though he had been dropped into an icy abyss. The scene unfolding in the main hall seemed like hell itself had risen before his eyes.

A thick, scarlet blood mist obscured everything beyond the windows, and a colossal face within the red fog rushed in, laughing maniacally. Not only that, there were also nine savage python heads looming threateningly in the air.

A total of twenty eyes stared intently in Count Bain's direction. The unimaginable pressure made Count Bain feel as though the blood in his heart was flowing backward. His veins felt on the verge of rupturing.

He could no longer maintain his refined demeanor; he unleashed all his energy like a desperate animal cornered into hysteria. Count Bain immediately underwent a grotesque transformation. He turned into a half-man, half-bat monster, with scarlet claws hanging by his sides.

His expanding frame tore through his aristocratic attire, revealing a fearsome shape. As the master of the Count's Manor, he had roamed freely for fifty years in the Bright Mountain and Mirror Lake region, so naturally his personal strength could not be weak.

Count Bain was merely half a step away from being a high-ranking Blood Race. Had his direct bloodline been purer, he would already have stepped into that elevated rank. Though clearly, even if Count Bain were high-ranking Blood Race, he would be powerless against the two commanders from the Treatment Ward.

Not to mention, Count Bain had only barely made it where he was.

Therefore, Nine Serpents and Fog Man, who had barged into the hall, paid him no mind whatsoever. Their gazes were fixed solely on the Kupan Demon Box lying atop the dining table. Count Bain only caught their attention by being next to the box, and a deep sense of peril rose within him as a result.

In truth, Fog Man and Nine Serpents had already dismissed him, yet Count Bain believed they intended to assault him together. Thus, he immediately unleashed his full strength, adopting a menacing stance and speaking in a loud voice.

"Which faction do you belong to? I am backed by the northern direct bloodline Blood Race, supported by high-ranking Blood Race from the Alphama Mountains! I advise you to withdraw quickly and leave my manor. Otherwise, the direct bloodline Blood Race masters of the Alphama Mountains will march out in full force to avenge me. Even if you are formidable, you will never escape Shire County...

"Furthermore, I believe it would be best for you not to lay a finger on me..."

Boom!

Count Bain, who had been speaking boldly, was hurled away as if propelled by clouds and mist, flying rapidly through the air until he crashed into a pillar. The immense force he carried snapped the thick column in two.

Rubble clattered onto the floor, and dust settled around him.

Next to the collapsed pillar, Count Bain looked as though he had been broken in half, with his upper body nearly folded over his legs. By the look of it, all the ribs and vertebrae in his chest had been pulverized, and his muscles and internal organs had been blasted into a pulp.

All that remained was a thin layer of skin holding everything together. He spat out a mouthful of blood with a gasp, his eyes full of bloodshot veins. Shock, terror, and utter disbelief appeared in his eyes.

Just one strike!

It looked weightless and came so quickly that he could not react, yet it contained an unimaginably dreadful power. It had crushed every layer of Blood Race defense on his body, leaving the flesh he once took pride in completely destroyed, eliminating ninety percent of his combat capability.

In other words, he now had no real power to resist.

"What nonsense about some northern direct bloodline Blood Race is this? I've never even heard of it! I do know of a high-ranking Blood Race that got killed by Hermit a few days ago. Truth be told, that high-ranking Blood Race was incredibly weak! It simply took blows the entire time until it ended up flattened into meat paste. It was a pity. I wish I had faced it instead! Then I wouldn't have needed to wrestle with that Shadow Demon for so long and have the Director help me finish it in the end. It truly left me feeling rather embarrassed!"

The blood-mist face floating in midair gradually condensed into a humanoid figure draped in a black cloak. Fog Man was griping to Nine Serpents about that fight.

"The Alphama Mountains? Interesting. I recalled that the Director's next step was to head into the Alphama Mountains. We might get more chances to earn merit after retrieving the Kupan Demon Box.

Heh heh heh...

" Nine Serpents sashayed into the hall.

A coy smile tugged at her lips; she looked the picture of a delicate beauty. Yet nine massive pythons wound and coiled freely in midair above her head, scales gleaming in colorful patterns and displaying terrifying fangs.

Each python was far larger and more robust than Nine Serpents herself. At first glance, the proportions appeared horribly mismatched. It was one of these pythons that had just sent Count Bain flying.

Even a slight brush from one of Nine Serpents' pythons could be more devastating than a collision with a fully loaded truck at top speed. Had Count Bain not instantly unleashed all his strength, he would likely have been killed in one blow.

The two of them had entered the main hall with a clear goal in mind. They paid no attention at all to Count Bain, who lay crumpled on the ground, and instead headed straight for the table.

Fog Man was more impatient, so he rushed ahead. He extended an arm shrouded in blood mist and seized the Kupan Demon Box.

Behind him, Nine Serpents unhurriedly took out a larger wooden box, opened it, and revealed a note containing details about the Kupan Demon Box's characteristics. It served as a reference to verify authenticity upon finding any similar antiques.

Nine Serpents picked up the note and began reading off each characteristic. Meanwhile, Fog Man matched the real item to each detail, and the two of them verified it multiple times. The box before them was indeed the Kupan Demon Box that their Director had requested.

The Kupan Demon Box was placed into the ornately designed wooden container with a soft

click

. Fog Man and Nine Serpents exchanged glances and promptly smiled.

The blood mist around half of Fog Man's body swirled excitedly like blazing flames. Striding briskly through the hall toward Count Bain, he murmured to himself, "Fantastic, it only took one day! We can present the Kupan Demon Box to the Director the moment he arrives in Shire County..."

"What reward should I ask for? A stronger demonic graft? A more powerful Golem totem? No, no, no—Covert Martial Arts! I want Covert Martial Arts! The Director created a custom Covert Martial Arts style for that old codger Odo and nearly doubled his strength! And as long as he kills, he grows stronger... Killing to become stronger...that suits me perfectly!!! I absolutely love killing! Dismemberment, stripping flesh, beheading...or devouring someone in one gulp!"

Fog Man’s entire body quivered with excitement as he walked forward. His eyes grew progressively redder, ultimately becoming so bloodshot they seemed about to drip scarlet fluid.

Behind him, the blood mist spread uncontrollably, rushing skyward like a steaming vapor. It then coalesced into a massive, crazed, blood-red maw. It seemed to embody Fog Man's irrepressible surge of excitement in that moment.

Thus, Fog Man, manifesting a mania even more unhinged than any dark creature transformation, stood before Count Bain and slowly lowered his head. Count Bain had reverted back to his human physique. He was coughing blood and appearing deathly feeble.

From a distance, it appeared as if Count Bain were a frightened and frail human, while Fog Man was a hideously malevolent dark being. In that second, the two of them formed a stark and bizarre contrast, as though their roles had reversed.

In fact, every generation of the Treatment Ward had upheld the original vision, a principle that originated from the Dark Hunter Organization. Just as the members of the Treatment Ward were called doctors, the institution had formed to address the problem of beast transformation within the Dark Hunter Organization.

Such had been the case for every generation. It was not until Cassius took charge of the new generation of the Treatment Ward that this doctrine extended outward.

The Treatment Ward had been created to treat all manner of sickness, fiends, and malevolent spirits in the world! As doctors of the Treatment Ward, how could they thoroughly eliminate such illnesses? Obviously, by becoming more twisted than the sick, more demonic than the fiends, and more wicked than the malevolent spirits!

They avoided the lofty rhetoric of so-called human weakness and noble courage in fighting predatory forces. Instead, they took themselves to be the predators from the very beginning! They looked down upon their foes and applied cruelty without mercy! They were the ones wielding absolute power!

They aimed to toy with those weaker beings like cats with mice—to tease, humiliate, torment, and slaughter them at will! They would not stop even when their hands were covered in blood. They would keep killing until they reached the end of hell! They refused to feel even a trace of fear. On the contrary, it was those creatures that ought to dread them!

This was precisely the will of the new generation of the Treatment Ward, befitting their transformation from dangerous criminals in the Savage Beast Den into "medical practitioners".

They were extremely paranoid, deliriously chaotic, utterly without fear, and even had a certain self-destructive mania. It was as though demons had gathered together to form this new iteration of the Treatment Ward.

Moreover, this demon-like Treatment Ward could only be subdued, controlled, and led by Cassius. Were any other Shadow Hunter to become its director, they would likely be eliminated by their own commanders within a day or two.

A savage, untamed hound required a master as domineering and merciless. Cassius was both the creator and the one in control. Without a doubt, Fog Man was one such vicious hound among the most savage four. Meanwhile, the gravely injured Count Bain, confronted by this vicious hound, uttered a catastrophically wrong remark.

"You cannot kill me! Those powerful direct bloodline from the Alphama Mountai—"

A chomp choked off Count Bain's words, as his entire upper body vanished. The blood-mist jaws hovering behind Fog Man hung in midair, revealing a satisfied look. Thick blood dripped from its maw as it chewed, only to be broken down once again into bloody mist in midair.

Twenty seconds earlier, Count Bain had said it would be best if the two of them did not attack him, and before he could finish speaking, he had been gravely injured. Now he claimed they could not kill him, and again he did not finish his sentence before dying on the spot.

One had to admit, Count Bain had a real knack for jinxing himself. Moreover, he only had half his body left, with the other half devoured. His death was nothing short of tragic. It perfectly fulfilled the curse of the Kupan Demon Box.

"

Ugh

, I expected far too much of you. You weren't nearly as tasty as I had imagined..." Fog Man wore a stony expression as he spat out a piece of bone.

Meanwhile, the battle had approached its end outside the hall. Fog Man and Nine Serpents, both formidable commanders, had pierced their way through every defensive line and left the Blood Race forces in disarray.

The remaining resistance was then casually dealt with by the doctors of the Treatment Ward. Wielding blades and swords, they hunted down the fanged, ghastly Blood Race as though herding sheep, relishing the thrill of dismemberment. Some doctors even fought bare-handed; a single punch would blow an enemy's head apart.

Bright red blood splattered across their cold, stern faces. Their pupils grew ever more fervent, and the hard line of their mouths twisted into an increasingly brazen grin. The doctors hunted the Blood Race exactly as those Blood Race had once hunted ordinary humans.

They were merciless and cruel, venting pure violence without restraint.

***

Simultaneously, outside the manor, not far from the grayish-black walls...

The Mercury Hunters finally arrived at the count's manor, all uniformly dressed, well-armed, and with resolute determination in their eyes. This included the bearded man who was considered an elite among them.

This was Count Bain's manor, which had restrained the Mercury Hunters' activities for fifty years in Bright Mountain and Mirror Lake. The hunters had been forced so far underground that they could not openly hunt the Blood Race, and had instead driven to operate in secrecy.

Meanwhile, the Blood Race maintained a dominating presence. Therefore, this time, the Mercury Hunters had staked everything on one throw of the dice by mobilizing everyone. Everyone present was part of the younger main force, the finest of the Mercury Hunters. If they failed, the Mercury Hunters would face a rapid downfall.

"In a moment, Serpent Arrow and I will combine our efforts to restrain Count Bain by any means! You'll be dealing with many of his Blood Race subordinates, some of whom are near the level of high-ranking Blood Race. Usually, it would take either Serpent Arrow or me to hold them off one-on-one, so this may place a heavy burden on you all. However, those black-clad individuals from the Treatment Ward will draw some of their fire, at least partially relieving you of several powerful foes. Make good use of that opening, and strike swiftly..."

The frail, elderly Wind Blade Elder spoke solemnly from the head of the formation. They had already prepared for the worst: succeed or die trying!

All of the Mercury Hunters grew visibly determined with brightly shining eyes.

"Excellent!" Wind Blade Elder nodded and immediately led the group onward.

As they neared the walls, his expression suddenly shifted. The commotion of fighting and screams from inside the manor drew everyone's attention, and they were all startled. It seemed that those black-clad members of the Treatment Ward had already charged in and were locked in combat with numerous blood drinkers in Count Bain's Manor.

And judging by the sparse, fading cries of pain, something had clearly gone awry, and the battle was nearing its conclusion. No one knew how many allies within the manor might still be alive.

"Damn it! Were they so eager to go in and throw their lives away? Couldn't they have waited a bit longer for us?" Wind Blade Elder felt a sinking sensation in his heart and cursed under his breath.

Yet with the arrow already nocked, he had no choice but to act. He roared, "Charge!"

Wind Blade Elder took the lead, rushing with the many Mercury Hunters toward the manor's main entrance. However, the gruesome scene before them caused everyone to halt, stunned in silence.

Corpses—there were corpses everywhere!

Each body suffered a different type of death, each in a unique, hideous shape. Yet without exception, they were all bodies of the Blood Race!

They lay on the ground like livestock, as lowly as mud!