“I gave the Blood Ancestor her first embrace.”
The moment Vladimir uttered those words, even Master Fool was stunned.
Everyone, whether they knew the Blood Ancestor or not, fell silent.
The first embrace was a ritual in the blood clan, akin to creating a new vampire. Mike had never imagined that Vladimir would be so bold. He hadn’t attacked the Blood Ancestor-he had turned her into a vampire!
In a way, Vladimir had *created* the Blood Ancestor!
Dracula’s face was contorted with rage, his eyes burning with fury. He looked like he wanted to reduce Vladimir to ashes.
If it hadn’t been for the sudden rise of the last Blood Ancestor, Dracula would have become the final Blood Ancestor himself! History would have been rewritten! At the very least, Dracula wouldn’t be in the position he was today.
In a fit of rage, Dracula grabbed Vladimir by the throat and shook him violently. “The Blood Ancestor should have been me! Tell me, why did she become the Blood Ancestor? Tell me!”
He was practically losing his mind.
Vladimir, rolling his eyes from the lack of air, muttered, “Maybe because she beat you up during the River of Blood trial?”
Dracula’s expression darkened even further.
Losing to the Blood Ancestor during the trial had always been one of Dracula’s most embarrassing memories. Anyone who brought it up was as good as dead!
But Vladimir, in his current state of reckless abandon, didn’t care. If he was going to dig his own grave, he might as well go all the way.
The Lower Three Races had a defining characteristic: whoever had the biggest fists was the leader.
The Blood Ancestor and the Elf Ancestor had both risen to power through trials that tested their strength.
The Wolf Alpha was even more straightforward anyone, even a non-werewolf, could become the Alpha as long as they defeated the current Alpha in combat.
In other words, in the contest for the position of Blood Ancestor, the highly favored Dracula had lost to an unknown girl?
Mike fell into deep thought. *This sounds like the plot of a web novel.*
“This is getting messy. Let’s sort it out,” Mike said, stopping Dracula and motioning for Vladimir to sit back down in the “defendant’s seat.”
“You bought Lilith and her sister, accidentally gave her sister the first embrace, and then what?”
“No, no, no,” Vladimir corrected. “I only gave Lilith’s sister the first embrace. As for how Lilith became a vampire, I have no idea.”
Lilith had no ambition whatsoever, and Vladimir had never considered her worthy of the first embrace. Even back when he was just a Count, Vladimir wouldn’t have turned just anyone into a vampire. The more powerful a vampire was, the more they valued the purity of their bloodline.
Everyone’s reaction was the same: “And then?”
“And then?” Vladimir’s expression grew complicated as he looked at Mike. “The day after the first embrace, I received a notice from the Duke: the great Prince Dracula was on a northern hunt and might pass through my territory. I was instructed to prepare for his arrival. After I finished making all the arrangements, my subordinates informed me that a group of humans had gone missing. I didn’t think much of it at the time…”
It had been so long ago.
Dracula vaguely remembered the northern hunt, but he had no idea that, in preparing for his arrival, a vampire Count had worked himself to the bone, neglecting to notice that a newly created vampire had escaped. That vampire would later become the Blood Ancestor, sweeping through the ages like a storm.
It was like a domino effect, setting off a chain reaction that would change the course of history.
Countless years later, in this small room, the truth was slowly unfolding before everyone’s eyes, leaving them speechless.
“The most ridiculous part is…” Vladimir rolled his eyes. “The great forbidden prince Dracula never actually passed through Count Vladimir’s territory!”
Dracula: …
After hearing this absurd yet true story, Mike couldn’t help but sigh. “Bureaucracy kills.”
If Dracula hadn’t gone on the northern hunt, Vladimir wouldn’t have had to prepare for his arrival. If Vladimir hadn’t been busy preparing, the still-weak Blood Ancestor wouldn’t have had the chance to escape. If the Blood Ancestor hadn’t escaped, Dracula would have become the new Blood Ancestor…
Everything that followed wouldn’t have happened, and history would have been rewritten.
“Alright, I think that’s about as much as you’re willing to confess,” Mike said, clapping his hands to signal the end of the conversation.
Vladimir’s secrets had been dug up thoroughly. But at the end of the day, the Blood Ancestor was dead, and all discussions about her were just reflections on the past.
The living had to keep living.
“I’ll give you all a piece of information for free.”
When the word “free” came out of Mike’s mouth, everyone present frowned.
In Thor’s world, anything free was bound to be the most expensive!
“The Blood Ancestor is dead,” Mike said calmly.
Vladimir and Dracula reacted in completely different ways.
Vladimir’s face fell, a faint sadness flickering in his eyes before quickly disappearing. He reverted to his usual shameless self, his only goal in life being to grow stronger, no matter the
cost.
Dracula, on the other hand, held his head high, his expression full of disdain. He scoffed, cold
and arrogant.
Clearly, he didn’t believe it.
He couldn’t believe that the Blood Ancestor was dead.
The one who had easily defeated him in the River of Blood trial, the strongest Blood Ancestor in history, the one who had elevated the blood clan to unprecedented heights-how could she
be dead?
Ignoring the two vampires’ reactions, Mike continued, “With the Blood Ancestor dead and no potential Supreme Being left, how will your blood clan produce a new Blood Ancestor?”
Mike’s stance was clear.
Whether the Blood Ancestor was truly dead, faking her death, or in some special state, there was one way to verify all the theories: create a new Blood Ancestor for the blood clan!
If the Blood Ancestor was hiding somewhere, she wouldn’t sit idly by. Normally, this kind of information would be a closely guarded secret of the blood clan. But Dracula knew that with Thor, there was no such thing as “normal.”
“I… well, a friend of mine who helped build the Tower of Truth once said…” Dracula coughed awkwardly before continuing, “There is a test within the Tower of Truth that can certify someone as the Blood Ancestor.”
The construction of the Tower of Truth had been a way to diversify investments. By the end of the ancient era, the wars between the various races had reached a fever pitch, with entire races being wiped out. It made sense that the blood clan would leave behind a contingency plan within the Tower of Truth to ensure their survival.
Mike rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Dracula’s “friend” was actually himself.
“So, which floor did your friend hide the trial on?” Mike asked.
Dracula looked a bit embarrassed as he explained, “Back then, there was no concept of the Nine Races. Everyone was equal, and the blood clan held a high status. If the Blood Ancestor hadn’t disappeared, the blood clan would have been part of the Upper Three Races…”
Mike cut him off. “Less talking, more answering. Which floor?”
“It’s… a little high up,” Dracula said humbly. “The ninety-eighth floor.”
…
“The ninety-eighth floor?! What the hell, Dracula!” Mike was tempted to fry Dracula with lightning on the spot.
From Dracula’s perspective, when he had been overseeing the construction of the Tower of
Truth, the blood clan, under the leadership of the Blood Ancestor, had been at the height of its power, dominating everything in its path. Even the dragon race had chosen to stand on equal footing with the blood clan!
If the Blood Ancestor were still around, the blood clan would undoubtedly be one of the Upper Three Races in the Tower of Truth!
With that in mind, when Dracula had to choose a floor to hide the blood clan’s trial, he
naturally picked the highest one possible!
Even now, Dracula didn’t think he had made a mistake. If someone couldn’t even reach the ninety-eighth floor, they didn’t deserve to be the Blood Ancestor!
But for Dracula, sending someone to the ninety-eighth floor was nearly impossible.
The ninety-eighth floor was just below Apollo’s domain, the near-mythical one-hundredth
floor.
It had taken Mike two months to reach the thirty-eighth floor, and that was considered fast. Not only had he achieved full exploration on every floor, but he had also taken detours to the
Abyss several times.
Climbing the Tower of Truth only got harder the higher you went.
At this rate, it would take Mike at least another six months to reach the ninety-eighth floor!
By then, Mike would be on the verge of becoming a Supreme Being himself. Why would he care about the Blood Ancestor?
Mike’s interest in the Blood Ancestor was primarily driven by his desire to uncover the history
behind the Tower of Truth’s creation and the possibility that the Blood Ancestor could be a
valuable ally.
But now, with the Blood Ancestor dead and the trial for a new Blood Ancestor hidden on the ninety-eighth floor, things had become much more complicated.
“I’ll have to find another way,” Mike thought to himself.
He decided to ask Apollo for help. If that didn’t work, he’d consult the Tower Spirit.
“Meeting adjourned!” Mike clapped his hands, dismissing everyone.
The matter of the Blood Ancestor was now closed.
Mike still had his Abyss internship to attend to-he needed to head to the Eighth Abyss to
deal with Poseidon.
Even with Maxen accompanying him, Mike wanted to be fully prepared.
…
Back in the Forest of Truth, Mike hesitated for a moment but decided not to seek out Apollo.
For one thing, the white cloud hadn’t appeared, which meant Apollo hadn’t initiated a
conversation.
For another, Mike wasn’t the same person he used to be!
*It’s just a trip to the Abyss. Do I really need Apollo to save me every time?*
A potential Supreme Being should act like one!
Mike decided to toughen up for once!
He walked down the main road of the Forest of Truth, his chest puffed out, feeling a surge of
confidence rising within him.
But he hadn’t taken more than three steps before he froze, his body stiffening, his pupils
contracting.
At the other end of the road, Mike saw… a butterfly. Normally, a white butterfly could easily be mistaken for a moth.
But as soon as this butterfly appeared, Mike knew it was no ordinary butterfly. It was like a
cloud, a butterfly as pure as white clouds.
Mike didn’t move, and the butterfly flew toward him.
“Good morning,” Mike said cautiously.
“Good morning,” the butterfly replied, its voice ethereal and distant, in the familiar style of
Apollo.
After exchanging greetings, the butterfly landed in front of Mike and said seriously, “I’m
close to figuring it out.”
Mike’s heart skipped a beat. He decided to play dumb and asked, “Figuring out what?” The butterfly replied earnestly, “Whether I’m a butterfly or Apollo.” Mike realized he couldn’t play dumb anymore, so he asked, “How long?”
The butterfly gave a time frame. “As short as three to five days, as long as two months.”
Compared to the many years Apollo had spent pondering this question, this was a blink of an
eye.
For Apollo, figuring this out was undoubtedly a good thing. After receiving the answer, Mike asked, “Is there anything you need me to do?” The butterfly in front of Mike could be considered Apollo’s projection, or perhaps even his
avatar. For Apollo to appear in this form was extremely rare, which meant he had something important to ask of Mike.
If Mike needed something from Apollo, he would go to Apollo. But if Apollo came to Mike, it
meant Apollo had a request.
Mike was the only one who could understand this dynamic so quickly and ask the right
question.
In a way, after so many interactions with Apollo, Mike had mastered the art of efficient
communication with the Supreme Being.
The butterfly answered seriously, “Before I figure it out, don’t die.”