Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lyle could hardly believe how effortlessly she was handling cleaning up a murder scene.

Having worked in the emergency department for five years, she was terrifyingly proficient at dealing with bloodstains and spotting splatters in every nook and cranny.

Harvey's affluent family background also provided her with plenty of suitable tools.

Only after confirming the house was as clean as if it had been licked did Lyle finally have time to examine Dawson's personal belongings.

She wouldn't overlook anything that could yield information—the anxiety of knowing nothing was constantly eating away at her.

However, she was surprised to find that, aside from a brass key shaped like a crescent moon, several Holy Gold Coins, and a map of Central City, Dawson's clothes actually contained a familiar funeral invitation card. The name of the invitee on it was none other than Lyle Gangro.

Those two are really bold, Lyle couldn't help but remark. The murderer inviting another murderer to the victim's funeral—so I guess this world doesn't have vengeful ghosts coming back for revenge, huh?

She set the invitation card aside, secured the oddly shaped key and the map, and then proceeded to deal with the blood-stained clothes of the two men.

The space beneath the basement's floor tiles was a good choice, and it didn't require any tools.

With her race's mutated physique, Lyle felt she could be bolder.

She experimentally pried with two fingers, and the whole floor tile came up instantly, revealing the soil underneath.

This was a pre-industrial floor tile, made of solid, heavy stone. In the past, Lyle would have given up at the 'sticking her fingers in' stage.

She blinked, feeling some of her anxiety and tension fade. She quickly buried the clothes and replaced the floor tile.

After finishing all this, Lyle looked up at the ceiling.

"Can I try it? I'm a vampire now."

And the game system had given her the "Fast Movement" skill, hadn't it? She should be able to run like the wind, right?

Lyle decided to test her racial talents.

She idly picked up a rag and gave it a hard toss upward. Then, with all her might, she sprinted upstairs, touched the corpse's forehead, and rushed back down—

"...Plop."

Three seconds.

Lyle's eyes widened. She counted three seconds in her head after returning to her spot before the rag finally landed in her palm.

But the height she had thrown it wasn't very high to begin with. Estimating, her round trip... took less than a second?!

Faster than a breath, faster than a heartbeat! And this was while she was still unfamiliar with her racial abilities.

Lyle gripped the rag tightly, the faint blue veins under her pale fingers resembling some ancient, elegant pattern.

The corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily. "Well, at least it's not too bad."

In a way, running fast was the most important thing.

Next, the newborn vampire began constantly testing her physical limits. Given the limited conditions, she proceeded to test jumping from the second floor without any protection and jumping back up, lifting a heavy oak sofa with her bare hands and swinging it eighty-nine times on the spot, hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat for long-distance crawling, and so on.

She needed to know the extent of her abilities so she could take actions that would truly protect herself if an accident really occurred.

The facts proved that, ignoring the game's background, becoming a vampire wasn't half bad.

First, her feet were like Spider-Man's. No matter how high she jumped from or to, as long as she wanted to, she wouldn't make a sound, even during fast movement.

In fact, if she controlled it properly, that terrifying, near-light-speed movement was so quiet it wouldn't even disturb a thieving mouse.

Second, she was incredibly strong.

In terms of weight, she could still move silently and as swift as the wind even while carrying the equivalent of three adults.

She was like a true specter, a fierce ghost, a phantom—simply invincible.

But soon, the increasingly strong stench of decay in the house snapped Lyle out of it.

Right, the funeral was tomorrow. A dangerous corpse was lying right there. She shouldn't keep getting caught up in her transformation.

If she couldn't get through tomorrow safely, or if the so-called Paladin Commander brother discovered something wrong with the corpse, then even if she turned into Superman, it probably wouldn't help.

Thinking this, Lyle hurried into the bedroom—the one storing the corpse.

Taking in the captivating scent in the air, she stood beside her "husband," looking him over from head to toe.

The corpse must have been fished out of the river. Fine grains of sand clung to the body hair, the skin surface was pale and bloated from soaking, and the persistent stench of river water lingered.

Dawson had said they conspired to poison the doctor. If they wanted to avoid detection, there must have been an act of destroying the evidence.

Dumping him in the river to stage a drowning death was indeed reasonable and proper.

But as a "drowned" corpse, Dr. Harvey wasn't convincing enough.

Lyle couldn't tolerate even the slightest possibility of exposure. She fetched a basin of water, mixed in some silt scraped from the basement, and soaked the doctor's hands in it, scraping back and forth with her nails.

She only stopped temporarily when the fingernails were full of mud and wounds.

Then, she carefully picked at the skin around the doctor's mouth and nose before washing it with the dirty water. Soon, these areas formed scab-like crusts.

Next, Lyle treated the doctor's hair, toes, and other parts in the same manner, striving to restore every detail a drowning victim should possess.

Even though she assumed this era's background likely lacked advanced forensic theory, she was still terrifyingly meticulous.

By the time she finished all this, the sun had just dipped below the horizon. The sounds outside the curtains gradually grew noisy, and the light turned into a weak red.

It was a color vampires favored.

Because soon, night would fall.

But she understood that the arrival of night didn't mean good times were coming.

On the contrary, the faster time passed, the heavier her crisis became.

The corpse could be disguised, but what about the funeral?

Rubbing her throbbing forehead, Lyle took a deep breath, resignedly picked up the invitation card, and carefully read the address and procedure.

Cemetery Location: Mill Forest.

The burial plot had a strange name: Sacred Tomb Area 78-65.

It sounded a lot like some sort of address number.

As for the procedure, it was quite simple: only the pastor reciting prayers for the deceased and the step for relatives and friends to pay their respects.

I'll get through this, Lyle encouraged herself.

She took out the map she had found on Dawson and quickly located the Mill Forest, situated behind the auxiliary monastery, so close they were nearly adjacent.

Notably, there are actually only three monasteries in Central City: one auxiliary monastery, one small monastery, and one holy monastery.

The other scattered throughout the streets and alleys are all very small "prayer rooms," used for ordinary people to pray.

Among them, the holy monastery is the largest and most prosperous, occupying the very center of the entire town covering a vast area.

The circular square where the Vampire Clan members were burned this morning is the front square of the holy monastery.

Moreover, there is no palace in Central City; this is a country governed by religion, where God is undoubtedly the sole authority.

Lyle stared at the auxiliary monastery and immediately decided to go take a look herself.

Not only because she had to get the lay of the land and find a safe way to navigate the funeral.

But also because of that bottle of Corruption Water that Dawson had brought.

Lyle had never seen anything like it before. Some kind of alchemy? Or a magic potion?

Dawson claimed the Corruption Water was stolen from the monastery, so where did the doctor's potions at home come from?

She knew nothing about this world, and confronting it directly was the fastest way to gather information.

Lyle rummaged through the wardrobe for the most inconspicuous pure black silk gown, draped an ermine-fur cloak that reached her ankles over it, and kept splashing cold water into her eyes until they were all red, leaving her cheeks and eyelashes damp. Then she picked up her basket and stood before the door.

Just in case, she washed the Corruption Water bottle clean and filled it with Dawson's blood.

Though it would soon clot, when going out, carrying a pack of life-saving "snacks" was absolutely necessary.

The last sliver of sunlight was completely swallowed by the horizon, and endless darkness slowly settled in.

The familiar smell of meals began to drift through the air. Lyle pulled up the light screen, which showed her fullness had dropped to 87 points. The system sent a prompt: You are still satiated and emotionally stable.

There's still time.

She balled and unballed her fists a few times, then resolutely pushed open the door.

A gust of wind and a group of children ran past her; they were carrying dead rats and earthworms.

"Everything's normal today!" the boy in the lead shouted. "No rats with bite marks!"

"No spiders bitten to death either!"

"Didn't find any bird corpses!"

"The bugs are all fine!"

"No vampires hiding on Black Pigeon Street!"

The wind lifted a corner of her cloak. Hearing the children's voices, people peeking out from second-story windows nearby all noticed her at once.

"Look, it seems to be that sickly wife of Dr. Harvey!" some whispered, their voices reaching Lyle's ears clearly.

"Why is she out? Is her illness cured?"

"How could it be? Last time she came out, she coughed up a huge mouthful of blood. Dr. Harvey looked like she was about to die."

"What else could she do? Dr. Harvey is dead; there's no one left to take care of her. I saw her taking a carriage to fetch the lilies she ordered this morning."

Mentioning the doctor's sudden death, everyone couldn't help but sigh in pity.

"Such a shame," Lyle finally heard an old woman mutter mournfully. "Without Dr. Harvey, what will we do when we get sick? The nearest clinic is over a dozen streets away."

Thinking of this, the old woman trembled and leaned out a bit further, shouting at the running children, "Slow down! If you trip and get hurt now, there's no one to treat you!"

So "Lyle" was a sickly person.

Lyle hid her hands deep in her sleeves, silently noting down every word.

A very plausible character, including the vomiting blood part, pale complexion, and reclusive lifestyle.

And precisely because of this, the neighbors didn't seem particularly familiar or close with "Lyle."

This was truly a stroke of luck amidst misfortune.

Lyle relaxed her shoulders slightly and made her way out of Black Pigeon Street slowly.

This was indeed a world based on the Middle Ages.

For a moment, Lyle felt like she'd walked into a history book of ancient Europe.

Low, small houses made up most of the dreary view. Narrow, winding cobblestone streets like blood vessels, with drainage ditches right beside one's feet. Rats, as numerous as street vendors, scurried up and down, as if holding some kind of carnival.

Donkeys carrying goods hung their heads low; the clip-clop of their hooves was drowned in another cacophony of blacksmithing and weaving—chaotic and noisy, like boiling water.

But this place also didn't quite resemble the ancient Europe Lyle was familiar with.

In a small square where several streets converged stood a small market. Simple stalls of various shapes were packed together like fish scales. Half a pork side and dead ducks lay piled on dirty iron plates; heaps of dead fish still stubbornly blew bubbles; second-hand ironware sat right next to fresh turnips and peas.

Yet, despite being a seemingly normal market, as Lyle walked slowly past, several suppressed, low voices reached her.

"I assure you it works perfectly! Fresh goods that just arrived this morning. Just give it a good clean, and it'll definitely become the best warning device!"

It was a voice mixed among various noises, not very noticeable, but heard by the vampire with exceptional hearing who was in a state of extreme vigilance.

Instinctively, she looked up, precisely locking onto the farthest corner of the market.

It was a nook, where even torchlight couldn't clearly illuminate the stall owner's face.

At that moment, the enthusiastic stall owner was continuously whispering something to the customer opposite him, occasionally slapping his hand against an iron cage beside his feet, covered in strange fur and bloodstains.

The stall owner spread his hands, talking incessantly. "It can smell a blood clan from at least 3 feet away and alert everyone!"

Lyle's eyes instantly darkened. She could no longer remain calm, turning her steps to approach silently.

"But it only has a head left," the pulled-along customer said disdainfully, glancing at the thing in the stall owner's hand. "Even though its eyes are open, who knows if it's really as useful as you say? Look how dirty it is!"

The thing was indeed filthy. Its open, dark yellow vertical pupils were hollow and lifeless. The rough, dark green skin's crevices were filled with dried mud, withered leaves, and black, sticky blood clots, as if it had just been dragged from a pile of corpses.

The customer's words made the stall owner feel awkward, but he still tried hard to sell for the sake of his thin wallet. "By the Holy Father, please look at the red membrane ring on its pupil! This is a creation only possible with the forbidden blood of the blood clan! Although this cursed, evil thing is dead, the loyalty to the blood clan branded in its blood hasn't changed at all! And it's cheap. Even though I've done anti-rot treatment on it, it's only 30 Holy Silver!"

The customer rubbed the ruby ring on his finger and still shook his head.

"Alright, alright, esteemed sir," the stall owner urgently pushed the head forward. "How about 25 Holy Silver? You should know, if I weren't lucky, a Lizardmen head like this wouldn't even make it to the market. And you should know, if one day you don't need it anymore, you can just sell it to the monastery. The monks there would be very happy to take it!"

"And just look at how tough this skin is after being modified by the vampires! You could easily make some soft leather armor or comfortable leather boots for yourself or your family! Do you have any children? You could even use this as a practice target for an apprentice priest!"

The customer was clearly swayed by that last point. He thought for a moment before confirming, "Are you sure this thing can detect vampires?"

"I swear by the Holy Father, if any vampire comes within three feet of this lizardman's head, its eyes will definitely start moving! It's a dominance hardwired into their bloodline, absolutely unchangeable!"

"Alright, deal."

Soon, the customer happily left the stall carrying the lizardman's head, muttering to himself, "Skin it for a pair of shoes, the bones can go to little Flo to play with. As for the warning... just keep the eyes."

Humming a tune, the customer paid no attention as the head brushed past a dark velvet cloak. The empty, wooden slit pupils shifted almost imperceptibly in that direction.

But the vampire noticed.

Just that tiny movement made her heart nearly plummet to hell.

...Thankfully, he's a deceitful swindler. That slight movement wouldn't be noticed unless a human was staring right at it.

But... blood modification? Why isn't there a skill in her list that claims to modify other creatures? Is it due to lack of experience or level?

And what about other servants modified by vampires? Would she have the ability to command them?

Lyle couldn't help but fix her gaze unblinkingly, intently watching the man leave until his figure completely vanished. Only then did she walk slowly over to the stall.

The stall owner was squatting on the ground, excitedly counting his coins, when a low, unhurried voice came from above.

"Where did you get that lizardman's head?"

"Oh, I found it..." The stall owner, halfway through his gleeful reply, suddenly realized something. He looked up fiercely but froze instantly upon seeing the person before him.

A black silk cloak was lost in the gloom. Beneath the wide hood, only the lower half of a deathly pale face was visible.

Yet even this partial view was stunningly beautiful. Full lips, perfectly outlined with crimson rouge, and a slender neck that was like a swan's in the dim light.

The fine ermine fur cloak, under the faint torchlight, seemed dusted with fine gold flakes, making the figure appear even more mysterious and noble in the darkness.

The stall owner gaped, struck dumb.

Until the customer smiled gently at him and said, "My apologies. I also quite liked that head, but seeing you don't seem to have more in stock, I was wondering where you obtained it?"

"Oh, oh, oh—" The sound snapped the stall owner back to his senses. His face flushed bright red, and he immediately looked down, fumbling to gather the Holy Silver coins. "I-I really don't have any more stock. But the source of this head is my secret..."

*Clink.* A golden object landed in his palm. The stall owner's eyes nearly popped out.

"Please don't misunderstand," Lyle smiled very kindly, though her tightly clenched cloak betrayed her current "nervousness." "My husband just passed away, and now I'm all alone at home. The darkness and quiet frighten me so much... I just wanted... I just wanted..."

"Oh... poor lady," the stall owner stared, his gaze now utterly gold-coin-shaped. He chuckled and lowered his voice. "Let me tell you, I really don't have any stock on hand right now, because this head came from the distant Raven Castle."

"You know Raven Castle, right? The nest of that vampire clan the Archbishop captured this morning. It was full of good stuff. I heard there were over eighty carts just for hauling the bodies back! Not counting the ones for loot! This head... well, I 'found' it on the little path the corpse carts took before entering the city."

A flicker passed through Lyle's eyes, and her voice grew even softer. "Is Raven Castle far from the central city? How many more things like this are there?"

The stall owner's look at her changed instantly, as if seeing a kindred spirit.

"Madam," he leaned closer, speaking in a familiar tone, "I really wouldn't have guessed you were interested too... But for the sake of one Holy Gold Coin, I'd advise you not to go near that area for now. Even though the Eastern Cliffs aren't too far, it was a whole vampire clan. Those white donkeys from the monastery are taking it very seriously."

"I heard they've not only blocked all entrances and exits but have also covered the entire area with Doves. The escort force even includes two detachments of Rose Cross Crusaders. If I hadn't been lying in wait on that path from the start, catching them off guard, I wouldn't have been lucky enough to scoop up... I mean, find a head."

"You know, even though vampires are despicable, the things they 'make' are really useful! Banshee fingers, lizardman eyes, Mourner throats—every servant modified by a vampire can sense their presence, and each one is a treasure trove. How could the monastery allow such things to just wander out? They've hoarded them for their own use!"

Every race cursed by blood... So, besides the lizardman just now, there were many other vampire servants, all monsters.

So capturing vampires wasn't a simple matter for humans either.

They too had experienced war, she realized, for vampires also possessed countless "armies."

Lyle wanted to ask more, but the stall owner seemed eager to leave.

After making sure all his silver coins were safely stowed away, he glanced around like a rat and waved his hands at his last customer. "If you have more questions, come back on the third day of the next Holy Month. I'll be here! For now, sorry, I really must go!"

With that, he vanished into the darkness within a few steps.

With so many people nearby, the vampire couldn't do anything publicly. She could only turn and expressionlessly make her way through the market.

An enthusiastic old woman recommended a vervain wreath to her.

"Absolutely fresh! Hand-woven! If you can persuade a priest to let you into the monastery to soak it in holy water, even a Progenitor would get a hand burned off!"

A clever young man recommended a second-hand silver-plated dagger to her.

"Sure, it's just silver-plated and a bit worn, but it's enough to harm all Dark Creatures, especially those damned vampires! Trust me, just showing your arm with this will make those monsters stay far away out of fear!"

Good grief.

Something colder than the chill wind seeped through the cloak into the vampire's heart. For the first time, she directly felt the malice humans in this world held toward vampires.

Why? Just for drinking a tiny, tiny bit of blood? Why must they guard against such a weak, pitiful, and helpless race like this?

"Don't block the patrol's path!"

Just then, a stern, booming shout came from behind Lyle. "Move aside! Curfew begins in two Holy Hours! New orders from the Archbishop! Everyone must pay close attention!"

She followed the crowd stepping back and indeed saw a team of well-trained soldiers in uniform silver chainmail forcibly clearing the way. Then, with a grand gesture, one of them posted a parchment scroll at the busiest street intersection.

It was an exquisite scroll, its sides adorned with delicate geraniums. The text in the center, gold with beautiful silver flecks, was very eye-catching and undoubtedly expensive.

Before Lyle could read the contents, the geraniums suddenly moved.

The unfurled blossoms acted like trumpets, booming with an authoritative voice.

"Attention, everyone! Attention! New command from the Archbishop!"

"The blood-sucking devils are not yet fully eradicated! The threat persists! For the peaceful and tranquil lives of all humanity, the monastery will officially commence the final vampire eradication plan! Everyone on the continent of Solafiso must cooperate fully!"

Lyle: ...Will this never end?!