Chapter 176 – A night of confusion and passion

Translator: ChuRen/ YuQiChen

The man, as if savouring a dessert, admired the delicate and lovely Eastern maid beneath him—Tang Qing’s pale, slender, swan-like neck, down to his exquisitely beautiful collarbones.

Every part was beautiful.

Such a delicious treat truly shouldn’t be swallowed whole at once.

The red-eyed vampire suppressed his bloodthirsty urge, his eyes veiled in obscurity.

He gracefully bent down, his long hair cascading beside Tang Qing’s cheek as his lips and tongue traced inch by inch along Tang Qing’s pretty profile.

Tang Qing’s whole body broke out in goosebumps from the man’s icy tongue. He struggled desperately to turn his face away and escape but was firmly pinned down inside the luxurious coffin by the man.

“What is this taste?”

The man suddenly frowned in disgust and said mercilessly,

“Have you gone rotten?”

Only then did Tang Qing remember: being diligent, he had stolen plenty of garlic from the kitchen and had been persistently rubbing garlic paste on his body every day—he was nearly marinated in garlic by now.

Of course, he’d be “rotten”.

But isn’t it said that vampires are afraid of garlic? Why did this man show no reaction?

Suppressing his fear, Tang Qing trembled as he said, “Great Vampire Lord, to be honest, I haven’t bathed for three days.”

“At noon while cooking, I accidentally spilled garlic paste on myself…”

His mind already a muddled mess, Tang Qing made up a random excuse, hoping to gross out the vampire enough to make him lose interest and stop targeting him¹If I was a vampire who isn’t afraid of garlic, I would treat him as garlic bread.

The man pinning him down merely chuckled softly.

Maybe the coffin was too cramped, as the laughter fell close to his ear—deep and hoarse, sending a tingling sensation through Tang Qing’s ear.

“My dear little maid, you really are clumsy.”

A slight smile flickered in the man’s narrow eyes, as if he didn’t mind Tang Qing’s little tricks at all.

Though Tang Qing knew begging was probably useless, he had no other option. No one wanted to be drained dry by a vampire. So he struggled pathetically and pleaded,

“Please release me, my lord—I will repay you handsomely.”

“Is that so? How exactly do you plan to repay me?” The man paused, raising an eyebrow with keen interest.

Tang Qing couldn’t think of how, as an ordinary human, could he possibly repay a vampire. So he replied hesitantly, “I… I will pray for you every day before Jesus, wishing you a long life.”

“Jesus? Jesus wouldn’t have any power over a demon from hell.” The man snorted coldly, as if hearing some ridiculous joke, his tone utterly lacking respect for any deity. “Besides, I passed the age of living a long life long ago.”

Only then did Tang Qing realise that although the man before him looked extraordinarily handsome, he was indeed a vampire—a legendary creature said to live for centuries.

He stared at the man’s flawless face just inches away, his eyebrows sharp and deep, his features well-defined. Time, the butcher’s blade, had left no trace on this exquisitely beautiful visage.

Tang Qing bit his lip nervously, racking his brain, and after a long pause, weakly blurted out, “Then I… I pray for your eternal youth, that your beauty and glory may last forever…”

Having said that, Tang Qing felt deeply embarrassed by his own awkward words.

It seemed that when people got nervous, nonsense could slip out effortlessly.

“I haven’t met someone so interesting in many years. Are all Easterners’ little mouths as sweet as yours?” The man found it amusing, surveying Tang Qing from head to toe, lightly chuckling.

“Also, I’m not called ‘Great Vampire Lord.’”

“But I don’t know your name…” Tang Qing murmured in explanation.

The tall man leaned close to Tang Qing’s ear, speaking softly and gently, “Since you’re about to die, I’ll tell you my name.”

“Remember it: my name is Sephiroth.”

Tang Qing’s eyes suddenly widened.

Sephiroth…

The head of the vampire clan according to System 99, the strongest villain in this world, the vampire prince Sephiroth?

Wasn’t the legendary Sephiroth supposed to be missing? How could he appear here in Countess Bathory’s castle, even sleeping every day in the room right above Tang Qing’s?

Although the portrait outside the corridor and the unusually lavish room had already hinted that the occupant was someone of great importance,

this was just a little too much…

It was like an ordinary person cleaning a hotel one day, accidentally discovering that one of the rooms they cleaned was actually the presidential suite.

After speaking, Sephiroth didn’t bother with the little maid’s shocked expression. His gaze landed once again on Tang Qing’s fair and enticing neck, then moved to Tang Qing’s lips, flushed red from nervousness.

His crimson eyes darkened, and the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Rarely encountering such a satisfying prey, he didn’t mind letting this little maid die a little more comfortably.

He leaned down, his cold, delicate lips suddenly pressed against Tang Qing’s soft lips.

His kiss was forceful—more like biting into a delicious morsel.

Sharp teeth occasionally grazed Tang Qing’s lips and tongue, bringing faint stings. Amid this clash of ice and fire, he could even taste his own blood.

That taste seemed fatally attractive to Sephiroth, making his kiss more passionate and urgent. The man’s lips and tongue ravaged Tang Qing’s mouth, making smacking sounds; his tongue licked every soft part inside, stirring waves of tingling delight.

Tang Qing felt immense embarrassment, yet an even stronger emotion rose—a thrill of being utterly stolen and possessed, as if the whole world had been reduced to this single kiss.

He had never known that a kiss could bring such pleasure.

Sephiroth’s hand deeply tangled in Tang Qing’s hair, inching closer as if to imprison him whole. His other hand slid under the hem of Tang Qing’s clothes, firmly kneading his supple, tight waist.

Those cold lips pressed against Tang Qing’s own, as if seeking to swallow even his very soul.

Tang Qing’s moist eyes gradually glazed, sparkling with tears, his long lashes trembling nonstop; the whole pale little face flushed pink from this kiss.

Confused and intoxicated.

A vampire’s saliva could evoke euphoria or disorientation in prey, alleviating the pain of bloodsucking.

This was the vampire prince’s final mercy for a favoured prey.

Seeing Tang Qing lose control bit by bit, Sephiroth’s mouth curved into a smile, slowly revealing his cold, forbidding fangs.

The little maid’s hands were still bleeding, her body exuding the scent of blood—far sweeter and more fragrant than imagined.

“No…”

Tang Qing felt weak all over, only able to let out a muffled groan.

In a haze of fading consciousness, he barely managed to stretch out his hand, struggling to push the man off of him.

Sephiroth smiled and took the little maid’s wrist gently, gentlemanly lifting it to his lips, softly licking away the blood seeping out, feeling the gradually weakening pulse inside—the life slowly ebbing away, yet making the blood all the more rich and sweet.

He lowered his head to kiss the tender skin, his sharp fangs lightly piercing the blood vessel in the hand.

Sephiroth had not tasted such fresh and delicious blood in centuries.

He let out a satisfied sigh, flicking his tongue to trace the thin vein on Tang Qing’s wrist, licking little by little—it was the aroma of life, like a delicate wine blossoming on the tongue, intoxicating to the extreme.

His distinctly knuckled fingers slowly caressed Tang Qing’s soft palm, sensing the tender fingertips gradually turning cold.

In the dim room, his pale, sickly face revealed a sinister, bloodthirsty smile.

Sephiroth retracted his playful teasing and narrowed his crimson eyes. Fresh blood dripped from his mouth, staining the collar of the person beneath him.

The vampire prince was about to formally indulge in his delicacy.

Sephiroth’s fangs hovered over the softest spot on Tang Qing’s neck, ready to pierce at any moment—

But at that very instant, a blinding light exploded, flinging Sephiroth away.

He crashed to the ground, emitting a painful grunt.

The light was like millions of silver needles stabbing into his body, carrying a nauseating metallic scent, along with an unprecedented, suffocating heat and burn.

In that split second, Sephiroth felt as if his strength had completely drained.

The source of the light was the silver cross hanging on Tang Qing’s chest, radiating a dazzling cold glow.

This was an item reserved for royalty.

A maddening anger surged in his heart.

So this maid had been sent by the royal family.

An insignificant human like this actually dared to betray him. The lofty vampire prince hadn’t encountered betrayal in a long time.

He would make “her” pay the price.

Sephiroth reached out his hand, intending to grasp Tang Qing’s neck.

But his fingers froze midair.

He stood still, and the red glow in his eyes gradually dimmed—his rationality slowly returning, suppressing the surge of impulse and anger.

Suddenly, a dense stream of blue numbers flashed through his eyes, briefly restoring the colour of green agate.

A fleeting moment.

The tall man stood up and glanced once more at the unconscious figure inside the coffin.

For some unknown reason, he suddenly felt that if he acted rashly today and killed this maid, he might regret it for the rest of his life.

Ridiculous.

Sephiroth sneered coldly, his eyes once again turning the bloodthirsty scarlet.

In his long, tedious life, Sephiroth had never cared for anyone, nor had anything ever caused him regret.

But deep inside, a voice whispered that this life was different.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and clenched his fist.

In the end, he loosened his grip.

His sharp, chilling fangs retreated into his mouth.

He was not a lowly vampire who lost all reason just to suck blood.

After all, she was just a slightly more appetising maid; he wasn’t absolutely dependent on “her.”

Without hesitation, he closed the door and walked away.

…

No one knew how long had passed before Tang Qing woke up.

“Heavens, where am I?”

Tang Qing hurriedly stood up, realising he was lying in a coffin—but he had no idea how long he had been there.

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  If I was a vampire who isn’t afraid of garlic, I would treat him as garlic bread