Verdant Soulblade
"Aaaah!"
In the darkness of night, the Vampires had no fear.
With a collective howl, they leaped into the air, baring their sharp fangs, and charged toward Damon.
Damon gripped the Verdant Soulblade, and with a swift motion, he sliced through the air, creating blooming sword flowers.
In an instant, countless silver threads shot out from those sword blooms, casting cold, sharp beams of light that struck toward the Vampires.
The Vampires bared their fangs, their fingers extending into sharp claws.
They surrounded Damon in a tight circle, trapping him in the center.
Their speed was blinding, and they moved in synchrony, evading the sword light while launching continuous attacks.
Damon's expression remained cold, his brows icy.
In his dark tea-colored eyes, the cold silver-white moonlight reflected like an edge of steel.
His tall, slender form moved with the elegance of ancient martial arts, stepping lightly across the rugged terrain, dodging the looming shadows of the vicious Vampires.
Suddenly, he halted, turning his head with a chilling aura radiating from him.
Surrounded by dozens of dark shadows, he raised the Verdant Soulblade high above his head.
With a powerful swing, the blade cut through the air, sending waves of sharp energy, carving out inches of blue lotus marks from his surroundings.
The lotus marks slowly floated in the air, and faintly, something seemed to be breaking through the space around them.
When the lotus petals finally fell, they shattered into countless fragments, scattering like beams of green light.
The air thickened with thin, wispy white smoke, drifting silently and slowly.
The Vampires, now suspended in mid-air, seemed trapped in an invisible, powerful magnetic field, frozen in place.
They were like lifeless statues, their bodies immobilized within the shimmering silver lotus petals.
In the blink of an eye, their rigid forms shattered like dust in the vastness of the starry sky, disappearing without a trace.
Before they died, their faces still carried grotesque expressions, emotions locked in their frozen bodies.
Their immobile forms were eventually consumed by the air, turning into visible currents, transforming into the humblest dust of the world…
This was the terrifying Verdant Soulblade that struck fear into all Vampires!
When Verdant Soulblade was unleashed, no one could rival its power!
Elena leaned against a rock formation, her silver eyes half-lidded.
Her consciousness was slowly returning.
Although her vision was still blurry and she couldn't see clearly what had just happened,
she could see the brilliant light of the Verdant Soulblade flashing in the dark sky.
It illuminated not only half the sky but also her silver-gray eyes.
So this is Verdant Soulblade? A beautiful rain of blue lotuses…
Elena murmured softly, her thoughts drifting.
Under the storm of sword flowers, she saw herself from centuries ago, as if she were transported back to that distant, ancient time—a time when her dreams came to an end before they even began.
At that time, she had just woken from a long slumber.
By nature, she was playful.
She had no interest in ruling the Vampire Clan.
She had heard of a place in the East, the ancient land of Tang.
It was a treasure trove of wonders, full of strange people and events.
So, she married Vincus, leaving the affairs of the Vampire Clan to him.
She, on the other hand, set off alone, boarding a bamboo raft and crossing the ocean to the distant land.
Upon arriving in the East, she marveled at the sights, curious about everything.
She inhaled the scent of human food, imagining their fine wines.
She watched the respectful and tender interactions between men and women, and her heart fluttered with longing, eager to try.
In those years, with her delicate hands and natural beauty, she dressed in elegant noblewoman attire, attracting countless poets and scholars, who stared longingly at her from afar.
Many aloof and noble scholars spent fortunes and waited years just for a single glance.
It was during those days that she met a famous ancient poet in the flourishing dynasty.
The poet's name was Damon, just like the man standing before her now.
"Damon…"
In her soft murmurs, Elena's eyes grew heavy with sleep.
Her body, bruised and broken, couldn't withstand the overwhelming fatigue, and she once again lost consciousness.
Morgar and the others stood at a distance, silently watching the unparalleled display of the Verdant Soulblade.
Without exchanging words, they looked at each other, a sense of dread settling in.
Morgar clasped his hands tightly within his sleeves, his fingers growing stiff.
It was a fear that came from the depths of his soul.
Irritated, Morgar furrowed his brows and said, "Enough. Fall back."
"But Elena… She…" Echo was reluctant to give up. The desire for revenge burned in her heart.
"Hmph! We couldn't take her back—this is the greatest failure. Do we want to lose everything? Let them have their time for now. We'll deal with it later."
As he spoke, Morgar flicked his black cloak, sending a gust of cold wind into the air.
In a single, fluid motion, he leapt to the top of a thick tree and disappeared into the dark night.
"Lord Morgar…" Echo clenched her arm, quickly following after him.
"Hmph!"
She was definitely going to tell Cyril about Elena kissing a human.
Echo eagerly anticipated seeing Cyril's anger.
On the way, Zethar's Dark Gift, as a pure-blood vampire, erupted again.
Even though he clamped his hand over his mouth, his hoarse, ancient voice echoed through the moonlit night, endlessly repeating, "Afraid… afraid… afraid…"
...
Half an hour later, Damon, carrying Elena in his arms, found the unconscious Ronan and the severely injured Elysia and took them back to their new residence.
Solara Residences, 8th floor.
"It hurts…"
Elysia lay curled up on the sofa, shivering in pain, groaning softly.
It had been years since she last fought, and now that she had, she ended up wounded.
She felt utterly humiliated.
As Damon arrived upstairs, he brought the medicine kit from the car along with him.
He rummaged through the kit and pulled out two red pills, handing them to Elysia.
"These are hemostatic pills. They'll neutralize the silver bullet poison in your body and help with inflammation and swelling. Try them."
"Can I really take this?" Elysia eyed the pills suspiciously.
She was cautious, unable to trust humans.
However, her shoulder wound had already begun to rot, the skin turning translucent.
If she didn't take the medicine, she'd probably just wait to die slowly.
Damon saw through her hesitation and coldly said, "If you want to die, you can skip it."
"You…"
Elysia lifted her head, swallowing the pills in one go. Let it be. Worst case, she'd die.
"I'm going to check on Elena."
Damon grabbed the medicine kit and walked toward the master bedroom.
Although Elena could regenerate on her own, growing back complete bones and flesh, her wrist had been struck by Echo's whip.
The silver poison wouldn't disappear by itself—it had to be cleared by Damon.
Otherwise, the silver poison would corrode Elena's bones like sulfuric acid, slowly spreading to her heart and brain, ultimately leading to death.
As for Ronan…
The ball of fur was merely shocked and knocked unconscious.
After resting for one night, he'd be fine.
Ronan was the least injured among the three—and also the most useless.
After Elysia swallowed the hemostatic pills, she lay back on the sofa, drenched in sweat.
She bit down on a towel, enduring a heart-wrenching pain before slowly recovering enough strength to sit up.
After cleaning Elena's wounds, Damon carried a basin of water into the bathroom.
Suddenly, he felt a dizzying sensation, his strength leaving him all at once.
Clank!
The basin hit the ground, splashing water everywhere.
Damon leaned against the wall, his face pale, breathing erratically.
Before long, he slumped to the floor.
He had been too focused on treating Elena's wounds and had forgotten the knife wound on his own chest.
It was a ruthless slash from that little bastard, Soren...
...
At 11:30 PM,
Caroline sat alone in a quiet private room, staring at the exquisite candlelit dinner on the table, feeling utterly listless.
She had no appetite, her mind lost in thought.
Had Damon abandoned her?
Was he not coming back?
Should she call him and ask?
But what if she interrupted him?
Would Damon think she was annoying?
A waiter knocked and entered, saying, "Miss, we're about to close. Would you like to—"
Caroline's face flushed slightly, embarrassed.
She immediately apologized, "Could you let me stay for another half hour? My birthday is almost over. I'm sorry for the trouble."
The waiter, seeing her genuine request, nodded and allowed her to stay a little longer, stepping out of the room.
In the hallway, the light from two wall sconces cast a dim glow.
A man's figure, as cold as ice, emerged from the shadows.
Damon, leaning against the wall, walked slowly, his steps heavy with fatigue.
A faint scent of blood lingered around him, the crisp night air accentuating his aura.
He met the waiter at the hallway corner, and they passed each other silently.
Hiss...
The waiter stiffened, his expression tense.
He could swear he heard an unfamiliar sucking sound, cold as death, with an eerie edge.
Was it coming from the handsome man?
The air was thick with the smell of blood…
At the entrance to the private room, Damon leaned against the wall, standing in the doorway.
His face was pale and weary, with a touch of exhaustion as he spoke.
"Sorry, I'm late."
Caroline had waited all night, and finally, her heart leaped at the sight of him.
Unable to control her longing, she quickly ran to Damon, saying, "It's okay, you're here now."
Damon stepped into the room, noticing the cold dinner spread out on the table.
"I think I ruined your birthday."
"If that's how you feel, then your apology better be sincere," Caroline said, her cheeks flushed.
Damon paused for a moment, confused. "Sincere?"
"Mm, like this."
Without another word, Caroline rushed into Damon's arms, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
It was her birthday, after all—shouldn't they be closer tonight?
Damon tilted his head slightly, subtly stepping back to distance himself from her.
He evaded her kiss, his tea-colored eyes flashing with a momentary dizziness.
Caroline's face turned slightly red, awkward.
He… he rejected her affection?
Damon steadied himself and, in a cold tone, said, "Let's eat somewhere else."
"No need. Steak is meant to be eaten cold, right? Let's just take it to go."
Caroline suppressed her disappointment, not wanting to make things more difficult.
"Alright."
Damon nodded softly, not saying much more.
At midnight,
Caroline, holding the takeout box, sat in Damon's car.
Her face was slightly embarrassed.
Although she had finally succeeded in getting Damon to send her home,
he had remained polite and distant throughout, never once closing the gap between them.
...
In the late-night Windy City, the evening breeze brushed gently across the streets, the night sky beautifully serene.
The city lights twinkled, stars dotted the sky, and the mountains stood silent, a quiet valley bathed in the light of the moon.
The streets were empty, stretching out into the distance, with no one in sight.
A silver-gray Lamborghini, sleek and fast, zoomed down the long street like a streak of lightning.
Caroline's house was located in Windy City's most expensive, scenic residential area.
It was a grand, independent villa, with the entrance alone nearly four to five hundred meters from the main house.
The drive took about ten minutes.
Inside the estate, there were various plants, fruit gardens, and even a small zoo—typical of a wealthy family.
Caroline stepped out of the car, standing at the door, and waved to Damon.
"Mr. Gilbert, thank you for the ride. I'll head inside now. See you tomorrow."