Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Luo Ci was immersed in a deep slumber.

His tiny nose twitched, catching a whiff of rich floral fragrance.

Roses?

So sweet.

Unable to resist, he clenched his small fists and took a deep sniff, eager to inhale more of the sweet scent.

But the moment he stirred, a cacophony of excited murmurs erupted around him.

"Mmm..."

The operatic exclamations annoyed the little one. He kicked his short legs, flipped onto his side, and covered his ears with his hands.

Now the chaotic noises were muffled.

But... his gums itched.

The sore, tingling sensation made him uncomfortable, and his tiny brows furrowed.

"Whimper..."

This time, the unfamiliar voices collectively shifted to concern. A large, gentle hand lifted the infant from the exquisitely carved coffin cradle, while another slipped a pacifier into his mouth.

The pacifier, shaped with gilded carvings, had a pale pink body. The roses on its pull ring were sculpted with lifelike detail, and even its tip was inlaid with rare, dazzling magic crystals.

The little one tentatively gnawed on it, and his tightly furrowed brows relaxed.

The coffin cradle swayed gently, rocking with a soft, rhythmic motion. Luo Ci finally managed to pry open his heavy eyelids a sliver.

The room was dim, but his vision was perfectly clear.

The cradle was almost entirely surrounded. The figures around him were all exceptionally young and handsome, with only a few middle-aged faces among them—distinguished and elegant gentlemen. Their hair was uniformly silver, like silk imbued with starlight and the Milky Way. Their crimson pupils resembled the blood moon slowly rising over a wintry forest, and their intricately beautiful robes served as elegant adornments to their natural grace.

Luo Ci instantly widened his eyes, fully awake.

"Ah...?"

The moment he opened his eyes, these individuals displayed immense joy, almost to the point of weeping with happiness. Yet, even their expressions of emotion were executed with utmost elegance; the simple act of wiping away tears with a handkerchief exuded a captivating charm.

Having already experienced rebirth in a new place, Luo Ci remained calm.

Yawning sleepily, he curiously peered at the crowd before him.

The room was vast and opulent, filled with Gothic furniture. Even the curtains and drapes were adorned with delicate crystals. Strangely, though, no lamps were lit—only a few candlesticks placed on the windowsill.

The room was packed with people. Those with silver-white hair wore various lavish formal gowns, while the others kept their heads bowed, silent like respectful attendants.

Luo Ci then glanced at the peculiar cradle he had been sleeping in.

This shape... was odd.

He had always thought cradles were oval, but this one was long and narrow, with sharp edges?

Clenching his chubby fists, he pondered deeply, feeling as though he had seen this shape somewhere before...

Once their tears were wiped away, the Vampire Elders immediately instructed the blood servants, "Go, spread the news of the Young Prince's awakening to every inch of our dominion."

The blood servants nodded excitedly and swiftly left the room, transforming into tiny bats that flew out the window.

It was no wonder the Elders were so thrilled.

Now, the entire Central Continent was under vampire rule—they were the world's supreme rulers. Yet, they had their own troubles: the number of Pureblood births was too low.

Vampires were a race with a rigid hierarchy, their power derived from bloodline. Purebloods stood at the very apex of the vampire pyramid.

Purebloods were naturally born beings, possessing not only pure and formidable magic but also innate magical talents. Their abilities rivaled—or even surpassed—those of an Archmage, requiring only minimal guidance to flourish.

Thus, it could be said that the vampires' noble authority was entirely in their hands.

From birth, a Pureblood was a revered prince with vast territories—so expansive that a dozen human kingdoms could fit within their domain.

Due to their natural bloodline supremacy, vampires were inherently subservient to Purebloods.

But in this era of diluted bloodlines, the descendants of vampires, who once valued blood purity above all else, were no longer pure. The ancient Purebloods had fallen into eternal slumber, and most vampires now were merely blood servants, converted through the Embrace.

Only a handful of Purebloods remained.

It was easy to imagine their desperation.

For over three centuries, the entire vampire race had waited anxiously—until this single Pureblood infant was born.

He was truly a precious treasure.

After nearly another century of anticipation, the little one had finally opened his crimson eyes—the mark of a Pureblood—his small, growing horns still not fully formed. With a grin, he revealed tiny fangs, his adorable face melting hearts. The Elders wept tears of joy mingled with a touch of bittersweet emotion.

Vampire Elders were chosen from among the princes, with only Purebloods eligible for the position. Even the centennial vampire reunions rarely had all Elders present—yet now, every single one was present.

"Lantern Elder, come assess the child's condition," said Tilise, known as the Mirror Witch.

Her flowing curls framed mesmerizing eyes that outshone the most precious jewels. Her magic resided in the mirror she carried—within it was her identical twin sister. Now, both similar faces looked anxiously at the child in the cradle.

No one wanted to give up their front-row spot, but after much pushing, a figure in a black cloak finally squeezed through.

Luo Ci stared blankly at the black cloak, tears welling up instantly. The oversized garment nearly swallowed the wearer whole, its hood and back embroidered with eerie patterns of skulls and ravens—like a frightening apparition.

Seeing the child shrink back in fear, mouth trembling, the cloaked figure hastily removed the hood.

Generally, those who wore cloaks did so to hide terrifying faces.

Luo Ci firmly believed this. He instantly turned his head away, covering his eyes with his hands and burying his face into the pillow, his little bottom sticking up in the air—like a silly kitten hiding from reality.

"I told you not to wear that cloak. Look how scared the child is," a vampire gloated.

The Lantern Elder gazed at the tiny bundle in the cradle. Though the little hands covered his eyes, his little ears were perked up. Softly, he coaxed, "Little one, don’t be afraid. Open your eyes."

Vampires naturally possessed an enchanting allure—both in appearance and voice. No human could escape their charm, especially when their words carried a trace of magic, radiating an irresistible warmth.

Luo Ci's little ears twitched.

Hesitantly, he lifted his head, struggling to part his fingers just a crack. Behind them, teardrops shimmered, swirling in his eyes—enough to melt anyone’s heart.

Through the gap, Luo Ci saw the Lantern Elder’s face beneath the hood—strikingly beautiful.

"Huh?"

The little one's tears vanished instantly.

Ya Pan, known as the Lantern Elder, hadn't shown his face for nearly two centuries.

As a rather reclusive Pureblood, his obsession lay in researching various magical potions within his territory. To the outside world, the Lantern Elder was the source of spreading poison, plague, and fear. But within the vampire community, he was the one with the highest achievements in vampire medical research.

The outside world speculated that he might have aged horribly due to his dangerous experiments, hence the constant hood. No one would have guessed that Ya Pan was this young and handsome.

Luo Ci tilted his little face upward, puzzled as he watched Ya Pan hover his palm over his forehead, chanting under his breath.

"#&*&##&&#..."

The chant, like a melodic aria, lasted for quite some time.

Luo Ci thought he was receiving a blessing—perhaps he had ended up in a place resembling the Middle Ages.

He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and drifted toward sleep.

In reality, Ya Pan was performing a blood-magic diagnostic to check the baby's physical condition.

Tilise fretted. "Normally, Purebloods have a sleep period of nearly ten years after birth, which is also a critical developmental phase. Once they wake, they grow to resemble human four- or five-year-olds in just half a year, even growing tails... But this baby's sleep period has lasted far too long..."

"Health-wise, there's no issue," Ya Pan withdrew his hand, then checked the baby's mouth, confirming the tiny milk teeth were growing. "Usually, the longer the sleep period, the stronger the abilities. This might be a good sign."

The elders let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Gurgle..."

Luo Ci lowered his head and patted his tiny, hollow stomach.

For a moment, Heisen Castle—a place synonymous with terror and darkness for most—erupted into chaos once again.

Blood servants scrambled to prepare blood and bottles.

Since the baby's milk teeth weren't fully developed yet, he couldn't consume fresh blood directly and had to rely on bottles.

Luo Ci sat up with a little grumble, his eyes fixed on the bottle in the blood servant's hand. Why was the liquid inside so red?

...Was it tomato juice?

He crawled over on his hands and knees, clumsily pawing at the bottle.

Meanwhile, the elders were bickering.

The bottle was too heavy and large for the baby.

Who would get to feed him became the center of their argument.

As soon as Luo Ci grabbed the bottle and caught a whiff of its contents, he pushed it away with clear distaste.

"What's going on?" The elders panicked.

A vampire's craving for blood is instinctive. To them, blood is an irresistible lure—only it can satisfy their exacting tastes and ignite vitality into their lifeless bodies. No vampire can resist the allure of blood.

One elder picked up the bottle to confirm—it was indeed fresh blood, unspoiled. Yet the baby showed no interest.

Ya Pan set down his lantern, produced a hefty manual titled *The Medical Encyclopedia of Vampire Infants* from his pocket, and began scanning its pages intently.

"It's recorded here that, in the earliest records, Purebloods didn't consume blood but drank the pressed nectar of Plasma Fruit. Thus, there's a theory: the purer the bloodline, the less interest in blood, and the greater the craving for Plasma Fruit."

Plasma Fruit was grown in the castle's orchard. A flurry of blood servants rushed to pick and prepare it.

Soon, a newly prepared bottle was placed in the baby's hands.

Luo Ci accepted it blearily. Catching the sweet scent, he swallowed hard and, with Ya Pan's help, held the bottle up, chugging down the contents eagerly.

He drank so fast he nearly choked.

"Easy there..." Under the elders' gentle coaxing, the baby lifted his pale little face and smiled, eyes crinkling, chubby milk-fed cheeks, revealing two tiny fangs—heart-meltingly sweet.

If he was this charming as a baby, who knew how adorable he'd be when grown?

The elders were enchanted by that smile, weak-kneed with adoration.

Yet they were also deeply concerned—how could the youngest in their carnivorous family turn out to be a plant-eater?