127: Chapter 127 The Perfect Plan

Qin Ming didn't answer immediately.

He turned his head, his gaze passing over the ruined dome of the main hall, looking at the cold moon outside obscured by dark clouds.

"He will arrive in Transylvania in a few days."

Qin Ming turned around, looking at Dracula's eyes, which were slightly red with excitement.

"However, there is a problem."

"Right now, he has absolutely no memory of being Gabriel."

"He's just an amnesiac slayer hired by the Vatican Holy See, chasing monsters across the world like a bloodhound."

Qin Ming paused, his tone playful.

"If you kill him now, it would be like crushing a slightly stronger ant. There would be no satisfaction in revenge; you would only be killing a mortal named Van Helsing."

Dracula's pupils suddenly constricted to the size of needle points.

"Amnesia?"

He gnashed his teeth and chewed on the word, the muscles on his face twisting with extreme malice.

"That damned winged hypocrite, has he even forgotten his own sins?!"

"Killing him like this would indeed be too easy on him!" Dracula's pitch-black claws dug deep into his palm. "I want him to remember! I want him to have the pride and divinity of Gabriel, and then I will crush him under my feet and tear him to pieces!"

"That's more like it."

Qin Ming nodded with satisfaction.

"So, for the next few days, you just need to keep playing your role as the evil Vampire Count."

"Act just as you normally would."

Qin Ming shrugged. "When he arrives, give him enough pressure. The stimulation of being on the brink of life and death is the best catalyst for awakening a god's memory."

A fanatical light flickered in Dracula's crimson eyes.

He seemed to already see the wonderful scene of Gabriel regaining his memory, being filled with disbelief, and finally being trampled under his feet.

"A perfect plan." Dracula's pale lips curled into an extremely exaggerated arc.

"Jie jie jie..."

A standard, raspy, and deeply villainous cackle rolled out of Dracula's throat.

The laughter echoed through the empty, ruined hall, eerie and terrifying.

However.

This standard villainous laughter hadn't even lasted three seconds.

"Bang!"

Without warning, Qin Ming raised his right foot and delivered a clean, sharp front kick squarely to Dracula's buttocks.

The blow was heavy and powerful.

The defenseless Vampire Count was sent flying three meters away, landing face-first in the rubble with a "splat."

The laughter stopped abruptly.

Dracula blankly propped up his upper body and looked back.

This terrifying Progenitor, who had struck fear into Europe for four hundred years, had never been treated with such insulting actions in his life.

"You... what are you doing?" He was completely bewildered.

"Nothing."

Qin Ming stood with one hand in his pocket, looking down at him.

"I just thought your laugh was too annoying."

"I really couldn't hold back."

Dracula: "..."

He looked at the Living Yama in front of him, cloaked in holy light, and took a deep breath of cold air mixed with bone ash.

He couldn't afford to offend him.

He could only silently swallow the Romanian curse that was about to escape his lips.

"I'm leaving."

Qin Ming looked at the extremely aggrieved Dracula and stopped wasting words.

"Hahahaha."

Accompanied by a burst of arrogant, unrestrained, and clear laughter.

"Swish—!"

The Angel Wings behind Qin Ming snapped open.

The violent airflow blew away the last few rags remaining on Dracula's body.

Golden light soared into the sky. Looking at the little Vampires all over the castle, he saw a bounty of points; five points each, with at least thousands to tens of thousands of eggs. Just thinking about it made him feel excited.

Qin Ming's figure circled in the air once before disappearing into the thick night.

...

This border town in Transylvania was shrouded in gray mist all year round.

Van Helsing pulled down the brim of his wide Fedora, his leather boots stepping onto the muddy street.

Beside him, the short monk Carl clutched his satchel strap tightly, looking around with shifty eyes.

The wooden doors along the street were tightly closed.

Pairs of wary, hostile eyes stared fixedly at the two outsiders through the cracks in the window frames.

Inside the tavern.

Anna Valerious was wiping her Scimitar, while her brother Velkan was checking a heavy Silver Short Axe.

Mavis, sitting in the corner, swung her legs out of boredom.

"When exactly will that Van Helsing you mentioned arrive? And when is Qin Ming coming back?" Velkan asked impatiently.

Anna looked up, just about to speak.

"Boom—"

The sky suddenly darkened.

This was no natural phenomenon.

Massive, dark clouds gathered frantically over the town at an unnaturally high speed.

A sharp screeching pierced the cold air.

Three giant humanoid bats, over four meters in size, tore through the clouds and dove down from high above.

Their massive leathery wings blotted out the sky, kicking up a violent, foul-smelling wind.

The nightmares of Transylvania, Dracula's three Vampire Brides—Marishka, Verona, and Aleera—had descended.

"Close the doors and windows! Hide in the cellar!" The town's alarm bell rang frantically.

But it was too late.

Marishka, who was in the lead, had flamboyant blonde hair and the most violent temperament.

She let out a piercing shriek, her sharp claws directly tearing off the thatched roof of a wooden house.

Two villagers who couldn't dodge in time were snatched into the air by her, one in each hand.

Fangs sank into their necks.

Accompanied by desperate screams, two shriveled corpses, drained of blood, were tossed onto the muddy street like tattered bags.

A mist of blood scattered through the air.

"Split up!"

The leader, Verona, with her brown hair and cold eyes, gave the order from mid-air. "Anna is ours; the Count wants her alive!"

Verona and Aleera, dressed in pink gossamer, circled in the air and crashed straight into the dilapidated tavern.

"Bang!"

The tavern's wooden door was blown open by a violent blast of air.

Verona and Aleera instantly regained part of their human forms.

Their feet were off the ground, floating in mid-air, with cruel smiles on their pale faces.

"Caught you, little mouse." Verona's figure flashed, turning into a gray shadow.

Anna didn't even have time to raise her Scimitar before her throat was gripped tightly by a cold, stiff hand, lifting her off the ground.

Verona's lips parted, and four bone-white fangs slowly emerged, pressing against Anna's carotid artery.

"Let go of my sister!"

Velkan roared, raising the Silver Short Axe high with both hands and swinging it down hard at Verona's back.

"Overestimating yourself." Aleera, who was responsible for flanking, let out a charming, cold laugh.

She didn't even look back, simply flicking her pink sleeve.

"Bang!"

A massive force struck Velkan's chest.

Like a kite with a broken string, he crashed through the tavern's wooden window and slammed heavily into the mud outside on the street.

Anna's face turned red as she desperately clawed at Verona's iron-like fingers.

Verona's fangs had already touched Anna's skin.

Just at this critical moment.