Chapter 6: Blood Oath

The “Floral Banquet” was remarkably vast, provided one could find the correct path leading to the underground cultivation chamber.

Li Ye descended the wooden staircase, traversed a long tunnel, and entered this subterranean sea of blossoms. Like a primordial forest, the chamber brimmed with flowers and herbs of every hue, but these were no ordinary plants. Each species possessed its own spirit, some even refining their essence into tangible forms. Upon seeing their master, the plants swayed their branches and leaves in greeting, producing a soft rustling and exuding an enigmatic, ethereal fragrance.

As Li Ye walked among them, the plants sensed his good mood; mischievous stems sometimes brushed against his sleeves, playful shoots stretched to nudge his clothing, or a fruit or two would deliberately drop, only to be caught deftly in his palm and tucked into his pocket. Yet they dared not be too bold—for a moment’s impatience on their master’s part could mean instant annihilation.

After a long walk, Li Ye halted before the rose vine.

The bodies of the Crimson-Blood Nobles were the fertile soil from which purebloods were born, and the red rose was their unique emblem. This place was something like a central monitoring room; with the birth of each new pureblood, a red rose would bloom.

Slender vines stretched outward, their deep green leaves swaying gently, whispering softly. It sounded almost like the plaintive whimpers of children.

Li Ye’s lips curled in delight. Sensing his mood, the rosemary finally dared to stretch out a delicate stem and caress his fingers. Normally, such a gesture would have been unthinkable, for Li Ye’s fastidiousness was notorious—he despised being touched. But in this rare moment of contentment, he was approachable.

“Master,” the rosemary murmured sweetly, “the enchanting seeds are ready.”

A small handful of dark seeds tumbled from the blossom into Li Ye’s palm. He looked up, and the plant immediately drooped in exhaustion, its slender stem lowering in surrender, making it clear that nurturing these seeds had drained its last reserves.

Thinking it over, Li Ye realized he had neglected it for too long. He bit his finger, letting a single drop of deep blue blood fall into the rosemary’s soil.

Vampire blood was a peerless medicine, and noble blood even more so.

At once, the rosemary perked up, swaying joyfully.

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Ling Yan had been uncharacteristically irritable these past few days.

He felt the vampires were spiraling out of control. They’d always been unruly, resisting restraint as a matter of nature, but lately, things had gone far beyond the pale.

Vampire hunters had long since surpassed ordinary humans; though their senses were not quite as sharp as vampires’, they were vastly superior to most. As a distinguished member of his hunter family, Ling Yan possessed abilities surpassing his peers, and thus, he could frequently catch that intoxicatingly metallic aroma.

Hunters felt no desire for blood, and to Ling Yan, the scent was merely an odd blend of blood and flowers, but its constant intrusion was vexing. Sometimes, as he dined, a waft would drift by—how could anyone keep their appetite?

Worse still, during his late-night patrols, he frequently stumbled upon scenes of startling intimacy.

The first time, both vampires turned to stare at him, and the always composed Ling Yan, for once, retreated from the park’s depths in rare discomposure.

The second time, he merely furrowed his brow and left without a sound.

The third time, he passed by with an impassive face, ignoring any sounds that reached his ears.

Ling Yan returned late to his lodgings. Normally, exhaustion would have sent him straight to bed, but tonight, sleep was impossible. He found the vampires’ behavior utterly incomprehensible.

He had attended a specialized hunter school as a child, with scarcely a handful of girls. Later, working in a hospital, he was surrounded by beautiful nurses who found his stern demeanor intimidating. Though many harbored secret longings, few dared approach him, so romantic entanglements had never entered his mind.

A prime bachelor in his late twenties, pride and self-respect now left him faintly exasperated—must even the vampires remind him that spring had come?

He noticed that these vampires, who exuded the heady metallic aroma, all bore a vivid red rose on their necks. That boy he’d seen had one as well, and somehow, it all seemed connected to that mysterious shopkeeper. At first, overhearing the conversation outside the shop, he’d even suspected the man of breaking some taboo.

Thinking of that enigmatic proprietor, Ling Yan’s brow furrowed. He recalled those eyes—bewitching, deep crimson, perilously dangerous yet inexplicably alluring.

Suddenly, Ling Yan wanted to visit the “Floral Banquet.”

The wind chime was enchanted—ordinary people could not enter the shop, but Ling Yan could.

This time, instead of barging in as he had before, he gently pushed open the door.

The wind chime tinkled softly; inside, there was no one.

Ling Yan stepped in. On the wooden table rested an exquisite ceramic bowl containing crushed deep blue powder.

That lustrous blue reminded him of that day—the vampire’s once-black eyes turning crimson after anger, and his short black hair lengthening into flowing, deep blue tresses.

Ling Yan pinched a bit of the powder between his fingers and, on a whim, placed it in his mouth.

Li Ye had only gone to the storeroom for other medicines. Hearing the chime, he assumed Han Qi had come and lingered a while longer, only to return and find that man popping the precious, painstakingly cultivated seeds into his mouth!

“Don’t touch that!”

Li Ye seized Ling Yan’s wrist, but it was too late.

Ling Yan looked up, his expression dazed and flushed with heat.

Rosemary—also known as “Mary’s Rose.”

He had fallen in love.

Li Ye had cultivated those seeds for his own “unspeakable” purposes; now this lunatic had devoured so many!

Fury overtook him—his eyes darkened to crimson, fangs lengthened, and his silken, deep blue hair spilled over his shoulders.

Enveloped by an intoxicating haze, Ling Yan failed to notice the sudden chill suffusing Li Ye’s presence.

A violent gust of energy struck him; he was hurled backwards, smashing through the amber glass door with a thunderous crash, landing heavily on the ground.

Glass cut his face in several places, shards scraping his lips so that blood ran into his mouth.

Li Ye stormed out, one hand clamped tightly around Ling Yan’s throat. Sharp black nails bit into flesh, blood tracing the lines of his fingers.

His voice was icy, his eyes brimming with murderous intent. “Courting death.”

Ling Yan’s mind was still clouded, but as air grew scarce in his lungs, reflex took over—he flashed the silver blade hidden in his fingertips and gripped Li Ye’s wrist.

The searing pain forced Li Ye to release him, flinging his hand away with a violent jerk.

He stood, looking down at Ling Yan from above. Those drifting locks seemed to merge with the oceanic night, devilish and dangerously alluring. One knew the peril, yet could not help but yearn to draw closer.

It must be said: vampires were, at times, a species designed to enchant and ensnare.

Ling Yan rose to his feet and approached step by step. Li Ye remained motionless, power gathering in his palm.

When Ling Yan was a single step away, Li Ye judged the moment perfect for attack.

As Ling Yan raised his hand, Li Ye struck—but at that instant, a wave of dizziness hit him. Swaying, he nearly lost his footing; Ling Yan caught his arm just in time.

Glancing down, Li Ye saw the faint trace of black powder at the other’s fingertips.

There was no need to ask—this was the toxic black rose powder, the hunters’ despicable weapon against vampires.

“You forgot,” Ling Yan’s voice whispered at Li Ye’s ear, tinged with gentle mockery, “I’m also a doctor.”

In the next instant, Ling Yan tipped his chin upward, leaned in, and kissed him, biting through Li Ye’s lip so their blood mingled.

Were it not for the poison’s paralyzing effect, Li Ye would surely have torn out Ling Yan’s heart—because the man had stolen his first blood pact.

A blood pact was a vampire’s ceremonial promise; once two parties’ blood mingled, an unbreakable bond formed. Each could sense the other’s existence, desires, and when in danger. In ancient times, the blood pact was as solemn as a marriage rite; now, it was also shared among close friends, relatives, and lovers. Some nobles even used it to bind slaves or disobedient lovers.

A blood pact could be formed with multiple people, but once forged, it was difficult to sever—and forcing a break came at a great price.