Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 121 - 116: The Evil Wolf

Old Brute realized he had stumbled upon a stroke of great luck. Suppressing the excitement in his heart, his expression turned sly. He covered his mouth with his right hand while his eyes drifted restlessly.

"Did you bring the money?"

"Brought it." The man jingled the money pouch behind his clothes, producing the sound Old Brute loved most—it was Yule’s voice.

"Good, let’s make the exchange quickly."

"Wait, let me see the medicine first."

"Of course, of course." Old Brute lifted his moldy long robe, revealing a hemp rope belt around his skinny waist. Tied to the belt was a crystal-clear glass vial, filled with bright red liquid. It was from Old Brute’s excellent craftsmanship, cow’s blood mixed with a bit of rotten fruit juice, blended unevenly. If you looked closely, you would find traces of fruit peel mixed in the upper layer of the liquid. But who could see what was inside on such a dark night? As for the efficacy of this substance, it might lead to diarrhea, but Brute wasn’t about to disappoint his good friend. Since he wanted medicine, then what was in the vial was indeed "medicine."

"What is this?"

"Miracle cure, a cure-all miracle drug."

The man obviously still had some brains, "You think I would believe your nonsense, let my mother drink this unclear concoction from your hand?"

His mother was ill—that was good.

Old Brute hurriedly clutched his robe, a struggle visible in his eyes.

"You are right, this isn’t medicine. In the eyes of medical practitioners, this liquid has no effect ..."

Playing the fool filled the man with rage, and he longed to kill the despicable man before him.

"What’s inside... is the Holy Blood of the Church."

"Holy Blood, what’s that?"

"The blood of the gods, child. I can see your surprise. Let me tell you a story. I once had a weak child, about your age, but she fell ill, and medicine couldn’t save her. In desperation, I prayed for the Holy Light, and the compassionate Holy Light pitied my little angel. It granted me this vial of Holy Blood but didn’t allow me to divulge it, for such a gift would mean injustice. An impoverished old man like me would surely draw the ire of the nobles."

"But the Holy Light ultimately came too late, and my little angel didn’t live to see this vial of Holy Blood. I’m here with the Lord’s grace, to exchange for my little angel’s burial fees, and for a ticket to ascend to heaven." By the end, Old Brute was weeping inconsolably.

The man was moved by the similar experience, and the thought of his gravely ill mother brought a wave of sorrow to his nose.

"I am willing, to exchange all my fortune with you, for this vial of Holy Blood. Thank you, old man. May your child rest in peace."

"Thank you, kind soul. Your mother will surely be proud of you." Old Brute watched as the money pouch came ever closer to his palm, a smile on his lips.

A chill ran up the spine of the old con man, a primal sensation of being watched by a beast, made him shiver.

He also missed the prized pouch by a hair.

A tall figure, like the black curtain of night, stood with straight clothing, pale skin, and the badge on his chest.

A Law Officer.

He hoisted the man up with one hand. The man struggled in mid-air, the money pouch in his tight grip like a lifeline.

The cold tone came, like the gates of the underworld had opened.

"What are you doing here?"

Black market transactions are openly prohibited, as is clearly written in Cassandra’s laws.

He was done for, and so was his mother. Despair flooded his heart, and the man found himself kneeling on the ground.

"Please, Officer, have mercy. I need that medicine to cure my mother. I really need it, really need it."

With each earnest plea, the officer’s indifferent eyes were like ice, plunging the man’s heart into a cellar of despair.

"Professor Manssstan, Respiratory System Professor, 26 Takaha District. Professor Cabinte, Cardiopulmonary Research Professor, 14 Dark Flower Street. Professor Browerger, Digestive System Professor, 8 New Street..."

Listening to the silhouette of the Law Officer, reeling off the information like registering in a contact book, the man was stunned for a while.

"Since you have the courage to kneel before me, I believe you also have the courage to endure the wrath of these Cassandra’s finest medical practitioners being disturbed in the middle of the night. Do to them what you did to me, they are much more reasonable than I am."

"Thank you, Officer." The man ran towards the road of true salvation, his money pouch in hand.

Law Officer’s cold gaze moved to the stooped figure of Brute.

Indifferent eyes, but a warm heart—at least for now, with abundant experience, acting would be seen through.

Brute had never encountered such a troublesome sheriff before.

But becoming the Master of Deceit was not without reason; he was bolder than most people and he observed much more.

With his handsome features and a naturally melancholic face, his skin smoother than the ladies of high society, this sheriff cared greatly about his appearance. Yes, vanity is human nature. Brute enjoyed dealing with those who had such instincts.

"What is that in your hand?"

"The most precious of gifts, sir. It is the essence of vampires, blended personally by me."

"Oh~ the essence of vampires, you are also the legendary Alchemist then."

"Yes, sir, your alchemist from Cassandra, Barkin. Perhaps unfamiliar to a sheriff like yourself, but over on our side, he’s quite a figure. He was my best apprentice. Just last night we were drinking together, celebrating this great invention we completed together," Brute exclaimed with passion, knowing how to perform the part of a proud madman.

The sheriff’s eyes twinkled with amusement, "Oh, the great invention of the great Alchemist, Mr. Barkin, is it? I must find an opportunity to pay him a visit someday."

Old Brute put on a smile, old Barkin, don’t blame me for this, who made you so useful.

"What’s the use of this essence?"

"It will preserve your handsome face, sir. As everyone knows, vampires are beautiful yet dangerous creatures, immortal and eternally youthful. This essence is their lifeblood. Of course, I have processed it, it comes with only advantages, without any drawbacks. Vampire blood is not something humans can consume directly."

The sheriff fiddled with his long fingers, clearly intrigued by this bizarre knowledge. Brute knew these boring government officials loved their gossip.

Brute also decided to reveal some truths he had overheard.

"Vampire blood isn’t easy to come by, even the initiation ceremony involves only a small exchange of blood. But once, there were Demon Hunters who killed vampires; among them were those who foolishly injected vampire blood into their human bodies, believing in superstitions. They all turned into a kind of monster."

"What kind of monster?"

Brute lowered his voice, trying to maintain an air of mystery, and moved closer to the sheriff, hoping to see a look of shock.

"Werewolves, sir, beasts that howl in the night."

"They have the heads of wolves, bodies covered in fur, agile and strong. Their keen sense of smell can detect the scent of vampires from kilometers away. Yes, they are sworn enemies of vampires."

"What are the weaknesses of werewolves? Silverware, full moon?"

Bruta scoffed at the sheriff’s ignorance.

"Werewolves are not the frail creatures of stories; they have no weaknesses. They can disguise themselves as humans and lead much more comfortable lives than vampires. The only things that provoke their frenzy and transformation are extreme rage and the stench of vampires. They are hunters, unrecognized vampire killers by God, and though not immortal, their lifespans are not much shorter."

The sheriff adjusted his hat.

"Very useful information. How much for this bottle of vampire essence?"

Brute’s smile broadened, this was the moment he’d been waiting for, finally a chance to fleece this arrogant fool.

"A hundred Yule, sir, it’s worth every penny."

The sheriff smiled slightly, his eyes narrowing warmly, "You’re right, it indeed is worth it."

A small bag of money finally ended up in Old Brute’s hands.

The old conman smiled as he handed over the vial to the sheriff.

But as he prepared to leave, he was seized by hands as strong as iron pincers.

A sudden pulse raced through the old conman’s heart as he turned back with a smile.

"Is there something else, benevolent sir?"

"You’re under arrest for selling fake medicine. Now I’ve caught you red-handed, come along with me, old swindler."

"You have no evidence to prove it’s fake, sir. You have no grounds to arrest me, I can file a complaint against you," the old swindler shouted defiantly.

The sheriff’s smile emerged, with an odd sound like a bellows pulled fiercely, like a monster.

Guided by the blood-red moonlight, Old Brute finally saw his face, and within those eye sockets, a pair of blood-colored vertical pupils gleamed golden. His shadow stretched long in the moonlight, like a malicious wolf on the hunt.

His voice was like the call of the Grim Reaper.

"We both know this isn’t vampire blood, right?"