Chapter Seven: Turbulence Rises Again

With a loud bang, Yang Qiu slammed the door shut, the echo reverberating throughout the house.

"Meow~" An, sensing her master's foul mood, nudged his ankle gently with her head.

"I'm fine. It's just that someone seems to have a death wish again," Yang Qiu murmured softly, lifting the cat and stroking her fur.

He cared little for whether there were gangs in certain parts of America. With the way things operated there, without a determined crackdown, gangs sprouted up like weeds—impossible to eradicate entirely. What mattered to him was whether the Bloodhand Gang still existed. As long as he lived, anyone daring to take up that name was courting destruction.

Now, the Bloodhand Gang, so recently wiped out, had resurfaced. Yang Qiu sensed the provocation behind this resurgence. Was the mastermind unwilling to accept his authority?

What Yang Qiu excelled at was persuading others—with force, if necessary. Today, he was determined to convince this challenger in the most physical of ways.

He slowly closed his eyes and linked his consciousness to Pyke, who was busy dealing with traitors.

Beneath the harbor, Pyke, who had been floating, suddenly awoke and dissolved into a stream of water, merging seamlessly with the sea.

Above the Blood Harbor, a ship was docking. At its edge stood two men in black, their gazes cold as they looked down upon the gang members below.

The cranes hummed, and two massive containers were slowly moved from the ship onto the shore.

Spectral Surge!

Pyke's figure left a trailing afterimage of droplets in the air. As these afterimages passed through each gangster, they acted like bullets, piercing their bodies clean through.

In the span of a single second, more than a dozen fell to the ground.

Yet to Yang Qiu's surprise, the remaining gang members neither fled nor drew their guns. Instead, they all turned as one to look in a certain direction.

Under their gaze, one of the black-clad men at the ship's edge swung his arms, his black cloak flashing through the air. In the next instant, he crossed several hundred meters and appeared directly before Pyke.

As he opened his mouth, two sharp fangs gleamed, and with those blood-red eyes, Yang Qiu immediately guessed: a vampire.

No wonder! No wonder they dared to rebuild the gang after Bloodhand’s destruction—they weren’t even human. Perhaps in their eyes, Yang Qiu’s annihilation of the Bloodhand Gang was a slap in the face. The food daring to strike back at the diner!

Pyke bared his mouthful of fangs in response. Longer, sharper teeth? Child’s play.

Meanwhile, Yang Qiu released his control over Pyke, letting the creature's slaughter instinct take over. If he continued to micromanage, Pyke’s true strength could never be fully unleashed.

The moment he let go, Pyke's right-hand harpoon shot out, stabbing into the vampire before him. As the harpoon reeled back, their distance closed rapidly.

With a sharp screech, the impaled vampire transformed into a swarm of bats and lunged at Pyke.

With a thud, Pyke activated his stealth, vanishing from sight.

The vampire skidded to a halt at the point of his charge, reforming into human shape, his heart pounding with anxiety.

He had known, from the moment he received the order, that the enemy facing Prince Dracula this time would not be ordinary. Otherwise, two count-level vampires would not have been dispatched.

But he was not used to this sudden loss of all his senses. Never before had he faced an enemy who could so thoroughly obscure his perception.

With a splash, Pyke reappeared behind the vampire, the surging water forming multiple whips that lashed out to bind him.

Faced with this sudden attack, the vampire immediately transformed into mist, dodging the blow. His blood condensed in midair, clashing directly with Pyke’s water.

On the ship, the other vampire yawned in boredom. The enemy was strong, but victory was only a matter of time in his eyes.

But the vampire locked in combat thought otherwise. The blood he manipulated was slowly slipping from his control. Each time it clashed with Pyke’s water, he found it diluted, and the more diluted it became, the harder it was to control. The excess water was nearly impossible to expel.

"Help! I need help!” he shouted at his companion.

But even with another count, Pyke was unfazed. Against enemies who relied on physical and blood attacks, Pyke was a natural counter. The only nuisance was that these vampires were also immune to physical attacks, making them difficult to kill outright.

As the two blood-red figures and Pyke’s water intertwined, the blood thralls below were seized by terror. They wanted to flee, but the suppression from their bloodline rendered them immobile.

No, we have to retreat! We can’t beat him!

Fear and the urge to flee filled the minds of both vampires. The longer one lived, the more one feared death. Escaping would at most draw punishment, but if they kept fighting, once their blood was diluted beyond a certain point, they doubted they could survive.

"You’re already on my list. There’s a place for you at the bottom of the sea!"

Pyke threatened, as water began to bubble up from the ground all around.

Two X-shaped marks appeared beneath the vampires. Suddenly, the water within their blood, controlled by Pyke, turned into ropes, binding their movements.

Ultimate move—Revenge of the Spring!

Driven by Pyke’s hatred, the water marks turned black. Leaping high, Pyke split into two shadows and slashed downward.

Swish! Swish!

The afterimages passed through the vampires, and Pyke’s form reassembled behind them.

The dual assault—physical and spiritual—crippled both counts. They reverted to human form, their bodies limp as they collapsed to the ground.

Their frantic blood thralls, under their control, rushed over to them. They needed to replenish themselves; though drinking thrall blood would dilute their own lineage, faced with death, they could not care less.

Boom!

Two thick fountains burst from the ground, blasting the vampires into the air. Overwhelmed, their blood became increasingly impure.

And when their control over their blood waned past a certain point, death claimed them.

With the main threats dispatched, the blood thralls below were no match. They had only slightly enhanced resilience and were far from immune to physical attacks. Ten minutes later, the entire port was cleared.

During the carnage, Yang Qiu also had Pyke conduct interrogations. These blood thralls knew little, but two pieces of information proved useful:

First, the two vampires were counts. The vampire hierarchy, in ascending order, was baron, viscount, count, marquis, duke, with princes reigning above all.

Second, the cargo being transported this time was humans—two containers full—intended as food for the vampires of New York. In their eyes, the stock had to be rotated frequently, or else the quality of the blood would decline too quickly.