Chapter Sixty-Nine: Crushing All Resistance

“Bad news, boss! The entire elite squad… they’ve all been killed!” At the very top of the building, a vampire stumbled into the penthouse, breathless and frantic with alarming news.

Deacon Frost’s already grim face darkened further.

“What happened? Who broke in? Is it Blade?” Deacon’s brows knit tightly together.

Blade—the infamous vampire hunter. Over the years, the number of vampires slain by his hand must have crossed into the thousands. He was the very reaper of their kind. Moreover, he was Deacon Frost’s sworn enemy. If it were indeed him attacking, Deacon wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

“No, not him. It’s the Defenders.” The trembling vampire minion blurted out.

The Defenders—a team of heroes that rose to power in Hell’s Kitchen after the Battle of Liberty Island. Though the authorities tried to cover up the incident, vampires, as creatures of the night, had their own intelligence networks, and knew at least part of the truth. Even more telling, the Defenders had since swept through Hell’s Kitchen, cracking down on the underworld and becoming a mysterious organization straddling the line between light and shadow.

“The Defenders? Aren’t they supposed to protect Hell’s Kitchen? Why would they suddenly come for me?” Deacon’s eyebrows drew together in suspicion.

“I don’t know,” the minion replied, shaking his head. “But they’re already here, boss. You need to do something!”

“What’s there to be afraid of? They’re just a bunch of freaks in costumes. We have over four hundred people here—are we really going to be intimidated by just six? Arm yourselves! Kill them all!”

“Don’t forget, we are noble bloods! Not some lowly mortals they can trample upon. Kill!”

Bang!

Deacon Frost fired a shot at the pipe above, and in an instant, a torrent of blood came gushing out, drenching the entire penthouse floor. The scent of blood drove the vampires wild—their eyes tinged red, fangs bared. At Deacon’s urging, they charged madly toward the floors below.

Yet none of these reckless, oblivious vampires noticed that their leader, Deacon Frost, was not charging into battle with them. Neither was his right-hand man, the burly Quinn. Exchanging a knowing glance, the two turned and entered a concealed room.

After entering a code, verifying both fingerprint and iris, there was a heavy click. With the grinding of machinery, the penthouse roof slid open, revealing a sleek black helicopter.

As the leader of the hybrid vampires, Deacon Frost was no brute who only knew how to bark orders and charge into fights. Long before establishing this lair, he had already prepared his escape.

Unlike those hot-blooded low-level vampires, he held little regard for humans, but he understood them well. The Defenders were not ordinary mortals—or, to be precise, that sorcerer among the Defenders was no mere human. Just as he believed the prophecy in the Vampire Bible to be true, he knew that if a real sorcerer existed, such a foe was not to be underestimated. Until he became the Blood God and overcame his own weaknesses, he had no desire to face that sorcerer. So, he chose to retreat.

With the helicopter’s engine roaring to life, Deacon Frost and his confidants began their escape from the building.

“Something’s wrong, Sean—Deacon Frost is trying to flee! I can hear the chopper! Quick, get to the roof and cut him off!” On the battlefield below, Matt’s expression changed drastically as he shouted.

Hearing this, Gu Zhongyan remained composed, replying calmly, “Don’t worry. He’s not getting away.”

With that, he flicked his wand, casting another burst of Sunflash.

After obliterating the elite squad, Gu Zhongyan and his companions swept through their enemies like a storm. This time, he didn’t take the form of a close-combat mage, but instead relied on relentless Sunflash spells.

It was clear the vampires attending this blood feast were not all like the elite squad—few had lathered on the heavy sunblock needed to resist the incinerating power of sunlight.

Thus, Gu Zhongyan gave the Defenders, still reeling from their earlier taste of close-combat magic, a true display of a wizard’s might.

Under the dazzling golden-red light, the vampires were like shadows at noon—obliterated in an instant. With each swing of the wand, another dozen or more vampires were reduced to ash, vanishing from existence.

Their march through the building was virtually unimpeded; they spent more time climbing the stairs than fighting.

With every step the Defenders took through this high-tech Brooklyn tower, each floor exploded in a show of radiant golden light. In the night, it would have seemed to outsiders as if some spectacular light show was underway.

After unleashing another Sunflash and wiping out dozens of shrieking vampires, Gu Zhongyan, urged on by Matt, finally resorted to Apparition.

On the rooftop, just as the helicopter was about to take off, Deacon Frost’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden appearance of Gu Zhongyan, confirming his suspicions that this foe was no simple adversary.

“Quinn, stop him!” Deacon barked without hesitation.

“Alright, alright! You ghostly wizard, Quinn’s going to slice you in two and drain every last drop of your blood!” The hulking vampire named Quinn, clearly not all there, leapt from the helicopter like a living cannonball, barreling toward Gu Zhongyan.

“Sunflash!” Gu Zhongyan responded instantly, hurling another spell.

Yet, as Deacon’s trusted lieutenant, Quinn was slathered in special sunblock. The searing golden-red light scorched his skin but only made him more frenzied.

“Ah! That burns, wizard! You owe Quinn! Quinn will pay you back—pay you back!” Quinn roared, his burning flesh fueling his rage. His massive frame moved with unnatural agility as he lunged at Gu Zhongyan.

“Noisy,” Gu Zhongyan muttered, frowning as he dodged Quinn’s attack. With a flick of his wand, he uttered, “Severing Shadow!”

With the incantation, an invisible blade flashed by—there was a sickening sound, and both of Quinn’s outstretched arms were severed, blood gushing wildly and spattering across every inch of marble on the rooftop.

“My hands! You cut off both my hands! Wizard, you owe me! That’s three times now!” Quinn howled, incensed at the sight of his arterial blood spraying everywhere.

But soon, he realized his anger was unsustainable. The wounds where his arms had been severed were not healing as they used to; blood poured out in torrents, and for the first time, he felt the real threat of death.

“What’s happening? This isn’t possible! Not possible! Heal—heal, damn it!” Quinn stared in panic at his ceaselessly bleeding stumps, screaming in terror.

Ignoring the frenzied Quinn, Gu Zhongyan watched as the helicopter, already airborne, sped into the distance. He made no move to pursue, but calmly took out his phone and placed a call.

“Prepare the net.”