“Don’t bring that up—I’ll blush like a dawn cloud.”

“…Never mind why you’d get shy about that, Tangxue. Next time, don’t clamp a lid over my mouth.”

“Ah… it’s just that a mouth‑covered Qianya looks inexplicably cute… eh‑heh~”

“So that’s it.” Qianya let out a cold laugh, sharp as frost. “I bet Tangxue with something stuffed in that little mouth would be even cuter.”

“???”

Master’s speeding like a runaway cart!

“Forget it. Since you’ve recovered, then rest. Leave the rest to me. Let’s get out of here.”

I’m afraid something unspeakable might happen, so I grab an excuse and bolt like a rabbit.

Qianya watches me with a crescent‑moon smile and says nothing.

“…”

“Qianya… want me to carry you?” I ask, testing the waters like a paw on ice.

“No need. You’re right, Tangxue. It’s urgent; not a time for moods. Let’s move.”

We’ll settle accounts once we’re out—if we get out.

“Okay then, let’s hurry!”

This Vampire has turned into a lagoon of sludge; not easy to deal with. If I remember right, a Vampire carries a core to store the Blood Reservoir. Destroy that, and he dies.

But a heart‑like core isn’t easy to find—like a needle in a red sea.

Time drags and the heat rises, a feverish swamp. I barely feel it. Qianya edges closer; she says the air around me is cool, like shade under willow leaves.

“No. This place is vile like a gut cave. I don’t want to walk anymore.”

“…Same. Wandering in circles won’t find it. A Vampire’s core is a small version of itself that moves by will. At this pace, we may never catch it…”

“So you agree we need a different approach, right?”

“…”

“Wait—did you say its core moves?”

“Yeah…”

“Then this gets simple. Watch me!” I cup my hands like a trumpet and shout into the hollow ahead, “Edgar! Your mom’s dead!”

“I didn’t just kill your mom; I scattered her ashes while I was at it!”

Qianya’s mouth twitches, a crack in calm water. She’s never seen someone open with family greetings like that.

The sludge mountain shudders like a drumskin. The flat ground sprouts half‑meter spikes that spin in rhythm.

I click my tongue, grab Qianya, and rise on water, eyes narrowing like a blade.

He’s ready for us to fly. Blood‑red energy bolts streak toward us like meteors.

“Again? Do you know anything besides Blood Soul Bolts? I’ve watched so many I could cast them myself!”

“Water Soul Bolts!”

Around me, bolts gather—identical but for their color—and whistle forward like kingfishers.

The blasts kick out shockwaves and filthy slime. The slime clings to our ice walls, and the ice melts like wax.

“You’re so annoying. Blood Soul Bolts and more Blood Soul Bolts—got anything new? Come on, is that all?”

“…”

A tremor rolls through. The meat walls drip liquid blood, a crimson rain. It boils and gathers into one Edgar Warren after another.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, brat!”

“Right back at you, clown. But… that skill’s pretty fun. Now it’s mine.”

I snap my fingers. A dozen ‘me’s rise from the floor, shaped from water, ripples wearing faces.

Like his, they’re translucent avatars with a tint.

Edgar Warren’s face twists, a mask of wax. He spent decades on this secret art, and I learned it at a glance?!

He can’t swallow that—like a bone in the throat.

“You think your water‑bubble people can match avatars fed with my True Blood? Each of mine holds thirty percent of my power!”

“True Blood? Thirty percent power? Got it.”

I bite my left thumb, eyes stinging, and squeeze a few drops of blood into my avatars, rain on seeds.

Sure enough, with True Blood they link to me. It feels… like I’ve split into many selves, a flock of swallows.

“You…!”

Watching my avatars surge after a few drops, Edgar Warren nearly coughs blood, rage a storm in a cup.

“All right. Time to go, ‘me’s…”

Edgar Warren’s true strength runs deeper, like an underground river. But greed binds him. The Fourth‑Rank Bloodburn he ignited is poured into the giant Blood Golem outside. He wants to swallow and digest both girls. Yet the blue‑haired one is uncanny; Vinoena Qianya can’t resist, but I move like nothing’s wrong.

Even at thirty percent, my avatars outclass his by miles. Each one thinks for itself, slipping past attacks like fish in reeds. His are rigid, and we run circles around them.

After losing several avatars, Edgar Warren won’t keep trading. He panics and fuses them into a single body, a storm funnel.

“Looks like I need my true strength to end you. I underestimated you before. Now I’ll go all in!”

“But I overestimated you… I thought you’d be so much stronger,” I say, disappointment like ash on the tongue.

Edgar says nothing and lunges at me. He knows if he doesn’t stop the blue‑haired girl, he’ll never touch the Blood Elf.

“Good timing…” I duck my head with a smile. Around me bloom more weapons, even a flute—petals of steel.

A few exchanges, and Edgar Warren goes flying. Wounds stripe him head to toe, and they won’t heal, like cuts in winter.

“You…!”

I flick my spear and hop lightly onto an ice pillar, a bird to a branch.

“Since I was six, Old Granny Dreamsound forced me through dozens of martial arts. I won’t claim I’ve mastered every weapon, but I can use them all. Even qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting… no—those, I’ve mastered completely.”

“You didn’t think… I only knew sword and spear, did you?”

“Heh… heh‑heh… haha… hahaha…”

“What’s so funny?” I frown, displeasure cold as rain.

“You’re something else, little princess of the Merfolk~”

“Mm‑hmm, and then?” I look at him, smiling like a crescent moon.

Dreamsound told me that if my identity ever slips, this is when I smile like this and wait for the chance to snuff him.

“Even an old relic like me, sleeping for millennia, knows how your Merfolk fare on the continent now. And you dare come alone, courting death? Pfft, haha… I wonder, when your own side drags you to execution, will you still smile like that?”

“Keep wondering then,” I say, cross as a cat. “If they try that, I’ll cry, rage, and hang myself if I must—just to make her dig up eighteen generations of your ancestral graves.”

I send a palm strike across the air. Edgar Warren’s avatar scatters like splashed ink.