Chapter 27: Extra Story - Abyssal Clarity

After Yuanche and Li Ye walked for a while in the Realm of Illusions, the mist severed their line of sight; they could no longer see Suye and Han Qi.
Yuanche asked, “What just happened?”
“Didn’t you see Suye was about to lose control? Even you wouldn’t be able to defeat him in that berserk state, would you?”
Yuanche was about to reply, but Li Ye interrupted, “That instant kill just now was perfect.”
Centuries of strict hierarchy had fostered an insatiable craving for power among the blood clan; even a fifth-tier noble like Li Ye was not immune.
A deep crimson flame danced in his eyes, brimming with challenge. “Compete with me.”
Yuanche smiled coolly. “You can’t beat me.”
Li Ye elegantly folded his hands across his chest and looked at him. “That’s not certain. Even if you’re the highest of the fifth tier, maybe I could win.”
Without giving Yuanche a chance to refuse, he leapt and landed steadily atop a protruding stone wall.
At the first attack, Yuanche evaded with calm ease. Li Ye’s lips curled with amusement, his fighting spirit surging. He gathered his strength with practiced skill, launching a barrage of rapid, dazzling attacks.
Yet, no matter how swift or unpredictable Li Ye’s offense, Yuanche always managed to dodge at just the right pace and angle.
At last, Li Ye truly grew furious. He concentrated all his energy in his palm, forming a powerful stream of dark blue aura that thundered toward Yuanche. But the latter merely lifted his hand and gently brushed aside the column of force, which vanished silently.
Before Li Ye could react, Yuanche was already behind him, his icy fingers lightly touching the back of Li Ye’s neck.
Yuanche released his grip, and Li Ye turned stiffly, a flutter of panic flashing through him. He walked several steps away, putting some distance between them. Moments later, he regained his composure.
“You said earlier that Qi Ning might not be dead?”
Li Ye glanced at Yuanche’s grave expression, understanding. “You intend to look for her?”
Yuanche nodded.
“The military searched for so long but found no trace of her. You—”
“I refuse to let any of my protected people disappear so mysteriously—especially when she is the previous generation’s Blood Key.”
Yuanche’s gaze was resolute, the gleam in his eyes so intense that Li Ye found it hard to look away.
“If she isn’t dead, my army will find her.”
The chief commander of the military was indeed a man of action. The day after returning from the Realm of Illusions, he selected two outstanding lieutenants and set off for the border—the region where the blood clan and humans met. There, a forest known as the Blood Domain stretched across the land; beyond it lay a human settlement—Gospel Town.
Yuanche planned to begin his search there.
Originally, for the sake of strengthening internal ties, the military had arranged for Qi Ning to marry a high-ranking officer—Han Qi’s father. Yet she later fell in love with a human, and when she eloped with him, she discovered she was already pregnant with Han Qi.
The officer flew into a rage, ordering her capture. Qi Ning, fierce and unyielding, would rather fight to the death than stay beside a man she did not love. She was on the run for a long time, and in the last desperate chase, she accidentally killed the officer. Panicked, she wished only to flee farther.
But at that very moment, Han Qi was born. She could only leave the child in the border forest. When she saw the blood clan’s soldiers take the child away, she departed for good, resolutely choosing to live with the human she loved.
After that, news of her vanished completely.
Perhaps because Gospel Town stood so close to the vampires’ domain, its people were especially cautious. Every resident believed in God, attending the central church daily to sing hymns, offer blessings, and pray for protection against being devoured by the blood clan or other monsters, lest they become tragic lost souls.
Still, Gospel Town remained peaceful; its people had lived in quiet harmony for centuries.
It was a sunny morning when Yuanche, dressed in light gray casual clothing, entered a café near the church with his lieutenants.
Sunlight illuminated the pristine buildings, wrapping the town in a warm, enchanting golden glow.
But Yuanche cared little for these sights. He sat quietly in the café, focusing on the scent of blood.
A boy weaving between tables, serving tea and pastries, caught his attention.

Qiao Nian had been raised by the priest since childhood. At seventeen, he began working at a nearby café.
When he was young, townsfolk often pinched his cheeks, praising him for his cleverness, his watery eyes, his beauty—saying he looked like a girl. As he grew, his frame shot up like a spring bamboo shoot, growing ever taller; his features became more defined, shedding the delicate prettiness of boyhood for a handsome, refined charm unique to his age. Many girls in town secretly admired him.
Some joked that Qiao Nian must be a vampire—how else could he be so beautiful?
Of course, it was only a jest; no normal vampire could safely grow up in a church.
When the three men walked into the café, nearly everyone’s gaze fell upon them. Especially the one in the middle, who wore a silver-gray hat, its wide brim seeming to hide his face and only accentuating his elegance and nobility.
As he approached, the lines of his face became clearer. Qiao Nian was captivated by his enchanting features, involuntarily drawing a deep breath.
His eyes were lovelier than those of many beautiful women, with long, thick lashes and tranquil, mysterious pupils. His skin was as flawless as fresh snow, pale and pure, yet his nose was straight and bold, like a mountain in the far north; his brow arched high, and his cheeks were deeply sculpted.
His looks blended masculine and feminine beauty. With the hint of a faint smile on his lips, he seemed both elegant and noble, yet aloof, making him all the more mesmerizing.
“Excuse me, who are you…” They were strangers, and a staff member approached cautiously.
“Just travelers,” he replied, bowing his head so the brim shielded his face, his voice calm.
The other employees hesitated to speak; it was rare to see such genteel people, especially three at once. Gospel Town was small; nearly everyone knew each other, and these three were unfamiliar faces.
For them, it was a rare chance to interact with nobles; from their bearing, appearance, and attire, all signs pointed to aristocratic status.
It seemed almost unbelievable.
They sat around a round wooden table. Qiao Nian approached, smiling, “Gentlemen, what would you like to drink?”
Yuanche said nothing, his head bowed, the brim obscuring most of his face.
When Qiao Nian brought three cups of coffee, his gaze lingered on the stranger for a few extra seconds.
Yuanche suddenly raised his head, and Qiao Nian’s eyes fell helplessly into those deep, mysterious pupils.
He was dazed for a moment, then set down the coffee and withdrew.
There was the faintest tang of blood in the air, barely perceptible—even to vampires.
Yuanche glanced up, his eyes hidden beneath the hat’s brim, carefully observing the boy moving about.
If a vampire wished to conceal the scent of their blood, they needed powerful strength to suppress it—something only noble bloodlines could do. Yet this boy did not seem like that at all.
Qiao Nian, carrying his tray, moved swiftly between tables, every gesture lively and energetic. His smile was dazzling, almost foolishly cheerful.
Aside from that barely detectable blood scent, Yuanche found no other clues to confirm his suspicions.
He frowned slightly, wondering if he’d truly smelled it.
After a while, Yuanche and his lieutenants left, settling temporarily at an inn.
Night fell, and the lively town grew quiet.
Qiao Nian finished his day’s work and was about to leave. He changed shoes and, as he stood, felt a wave of dizziness and almost lost his balance.
He’d forgotten his medicine today—low blood sugar again.
He locked the café and hurried back to the church’s rear garden. After a quick shower, he returned to his room and began drying his damp hair with a cloth. There was a gentle knock at the door; Qiao Nian called, “Come in.”
The visitor was a young man, but his thick priest’s robes and solemn expression made him seem older, his age indeterminate. In Qiao Nian’s memory, from the time he was adopted until now, the priest’s appearance never changed, as if God had granted him eternal youth.
The townsfolk, including Qiao Nian, respected this calm and dignified man deeply; to them, he was closest to God.
The priest entered, carrying a ceramic mug.
“Nian, you forgot your medicine again.”

Qiao Nian grinned broadly. “No wonder I felt so tired today,” he said, accepting the mug and blinking his sincere eyes. “Thank you, Father.”
He tipped back his head, gulping down the medicine in one go, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
The priest smiled, took the empty mug, and after a few words of caution, departed.
Such a gentle soul, Qiao Nian thought happily.
By the time Yuanche slipped in silently, Qiao Nian was already fast asleep in bed.
Yuanche closed his eyes, concentrating, but could no longer detect any scent. At the café that morning, the boy had carried a faint trace of blood.
The more elusive it seemed, the more suspicious Yuanche became.
It felt deliberately fabricated—a calculated deception.
Yuanche’s nails became hard and sharp, and he reached toward Qiao Nian’s neck. His cold fingers touched the boy’s warm skin; Qiao Nian stirred uncomfortably, turned over, and faced away.
Yuanche leaned in, sharp fangs emerging, intending to bite the boy’s skin directly.
A taste of the blood would reveal the truth of his identity.
But Qiao Nian suddenly moved, muttering in his sleep, as if about to wake. Yuanche retreated, melting into the shadows.
Qiao Nian sat up, rubbing his brow, still groggy but parched with thirst. He slipped his feet into slippers, but they weren’t on properly. As he stood, he stumbled and toppled forward.
With a loud thud, Qiao Nian fell stiffly onto the hard floor. He lay there unmoving, as if stunned by the fall. After a long moment, he pushed himself up, still dazed and confused.
Yuanche turned his head, feeling that this foolish scene offended his eyes.
Qiao Nian rubbed his aching forehead, noticing a small patch of blood—just a scrape. He gripped the edge of the table, stood weakly, and lifted the kettle, intending to drink straight from it. But he sensed a chilling presence behind him.
Qiao Nian turned, squinting sleepily, trying to see what approached.
The figure was shrouded in darkness, save for a pair of eerie blood-red eyes.
Qiao Nian snapped awake, his face rigid, whispering frantically to himself, “This is a dream, this is a dream…”
Seventeen years of life, and Qiao Nian had only heard of vampires from others, never believing such terrifying beings could truly exist. Fear made his pupils tremble, his breath grow rapid. He instinctively wanted to flee, but his legs felt leaden, immovable.
Yuanche drew closer. His sharp fangs barely brushed the boy’s fragile neck, the cold, keen touch making Qiao Nian’s body tense instantly.
The icy breath on his neck made Qiao Nian’s body go limp, and he collapsed straight down.
Yuanche caught his arm in time, lifting the boy’s chin with slender black nails.
His face was deathly pale—clearly frightened unconscious.
Yuanche inhaled again, and the faint scent of blood returned, so subtle it required careful discernment. Amid the tang, another unfamiliar aroma emerged—the scent of humanity.
—He was a half blood, the offspring of human and vampire.
—But even such a faintly sweet tang was enough to stir Yuanche’s desire; this half blood’s lineage was noble. No, the vampire blood in him was exceedingly noble.
To find a half blood of noble descent in the borderlands made it nearly certain who this boy was.
He was most likely Han Qi’s brother, the child of Qi Ning and a human.