No doubt, this will be fascinating, like a storm coiling on the horizon.

Soon, every teacher with ninth-tier adventurer strength gathered, their footsteps beating toward the lord’s hall like drums before rain.

Ghost Butterfly, the chatty assassination instructor, grumbled like nettles in wind, “Seriously? They picked the exact moment our two top fighters are away to strike. Too neat to be chance…”

“There’s a mole, rot under the floorboards—abort the deal!”

“Eh.” Teacher Xuanwu, nicknamed the Immovable Basalt, sighed like a mountain settling. “No mole. The one outside is exactly the one Teacher Xuewei went to handle. We clearly fell for a lure-the-tiger-from-the-mountain ploy. As for our other high-end combatant…”

“Damn! That bastard ran off on vacation with his wife again!” The complaint crackled like sparks.

“Next time I’m reporting him to the principal to dock his pay!” The threat climbed like smoke.

“I’m telling Teacher Xuewei all his ugly secrets!” Petty waves rippled like cattails.

“I’ll sleep with his wife!” a male voice popped like a thrown pebble.

“…”

“Who just said that?” The teachers’ line froze, silence falling like winter ash.

“…”

“Enough. No jokes now. A bell’s about to toll for a battle that carries every name in this city.”

“Yeah…” Even if the enemy was “just” ninth-tier, none of them dared treat the Vampire King like a hill under fog.

After a quick attempt to warm the air, the strike team was set. Starfate City led, the average at ninth-tier peak, a line of steel like a river. In a small nation, any one of them could be a marshal. Yet outside, one “person” had them bunching up like deer under a single wolf’s shadow.

The lord of Starfate City was named Fan Chen. His life rose like dawn in politics. Born in a tiny village, he had a knack for people and policy, climbing without a family ladder to heights most mortals only dream of. He won a seat in the Radiant Empire’s parliament, his name carried like wind across the continent. When candidates were chosen to raise a city with global reach, Fan Chen leveraged his silver tongue like a bridge, pushed his hometown forward, secured the bid, and became its lord.

He was also a top-tier ninth-level adventurer, an orphan by rumor, a legend shaped like tempered steel.

And now, he was simply a soldier ready to stand with teachers and adventurers, a banner in the wind over his city.

“Hey, with this many of us, do we really need to fear that Vampire?” An Adventurer’s Guild veteran bristled like a wolf with old scars; at ninth tier, pride was a second spine.

“With this many, we still might not win.” Fan Chen’s voice cooled like water on hot iron. He didn’t snap; this needed saying, like lanterns lit before night.

“Vampires regenerate like lizards sprouting new tails. Worse, they restore stamina by drinking blood and drawing vitality, and the ratio is brutal—high.”

“That’s one reason I want a team to hunt the Vampire King,” he said, the words steady like stones.

“From what I gleaned in ancient ruins, their terror lies in innate talents and raw bodies. Royal bloodline talents are monstrous. Be careful. And do not brawl them—close-quarters will gouge you.”

The adventurer clicked his tongue, a small spark, and said no more. After centuries, he didn’t pick fights for sport.

Most ninth-tier elites present still felt the lord was using a sword where a knife might do, a touch of overkill like armor at a tea house.

The “plan” was simple, a quick weave made under tight time, thread pulled fast as dusk.

Defenders and controllers would face the enemy like shields in a storm. Assassins would vanish like mist and strike. Movers would watch the wounded and pull them like fish from net. Do not let him touch blood—one drop, and the end arrives early.

Only those last two lines mattered, a blade hidden in cloth.

They could wait and let Starfate City’s ward siphon some of his blood, like salt leaching from meat. But maybe he was thinking the same. Maybe his Blood Reservoir was stronger than their city’s shield. That possibility hung like a knife.

So, attack first. Break the cliff by climbing it. Risk was the only bridge.

Everything ready, the mixed team of adventurers, teachers, and city staff stepped through the barrier, the ward shimmering like glass under moonlight.

At the gate, the stink of blood hit them like hot rust, wrinkling brows as if a sour wind had bit their noses. His field was strong; it reached this far like tide under fog.

A hurricane tore in, its howl like wolves; at the eye stood a blood-red silhouette, sharp as a thorn.

“Finally crawled out, you turtle-shelled cowards,” Edgar Warren sneered, voice like ice cracking. “I thought I’d have to smash your shells and fish you out.”

The wind thinned, and Edgar Warren’s pallid face surfaced, a moon drained of light.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongues?” His words flicked like knives.

Silence pooled like ink. Armchair talk is easy; true battle is iron. His pressure pressed like a deep sea, heavier than they’d guessed.

“Fight,” someone said, heat rising like a drumbeat. “Kids stand behind us. No matter how strong he is, we can’t lose.”

“Right!”

“Charge! For Xuewei-chan!” The cheer popped like confetti in a funeral wind.

“???” Did something weird just slip in again?

Why had Fan Chen said numbers might still lose? Now they knew. This Vampire King—cut off his head, it reattached like ivy; chop it again, a new one sprouted like fungus after rain. Ghost Butterfly had severed his head many times, but death wouldn’t stick. He was a thing that refused the grave.

Kill him a hundred times, and it meant nothing. If he touched blood—just a smear—he’d surge back to full like a flame fed oil. Worse, blood thralls dotted the field like dark lanterns.

Many teachers were badly hurt, their earlier numbers now a net that saved lives, dragging wounded comrades back like boats from a whirlpool.

In the end, numbers bought their retreat. No ninth-tier fell, a mercy like dawn after lightning. The Vampire King didn’t chase to the last, either. He watched them scurry for the city, eyes amused like a cat above a mouse nest.

This clash left Starfate City nearly crushed, a banner sagging in storm.