Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 76 Emlyn White

As Philip thought this, the craving for flesh and blood, which had been soothed by the "Eye of the Heart," regained its dominance. Although it was no longer as severe as it had been in the past few days, requiring him to fight until after midnight before he could finally fall asleep, it was still not to be ignored.

Philip had anticipated this, after all, the effects of a Sequence 7 potion would certainly not be resolved so easily. As he thought this, he reached out and adjusted his monocle.

Suddenly, a warm light shone from the sapphire blue eyes beneath them, and the faint crimson hue vanished quickly. Even when stimulated again by the crimson moonlight, it did not reappear.

This is "psychoanalysis," or "soothing." In many cases, this ability can be considered a superior alternative to the "Ember" spell, since the two cannot even compare in terms of basic convenience and concealment; they are not even in the same league.

I'll have to wear this often from now on, barring any unforeseen circumstances. I hope nothing unexpected happens, like being recognized and having malicious intent. I can't afford that right now.

After roughly assessing the extent to which the "Soothing" ability suppressed the potion's effects, Philip made up his mind and, without any hesitation, skipped washing up and went straight back to his bedroom to rest.

About five hours later, he will be affected by the renewed craving for flesh and blood, and will need to get up and use the soothing agent again. It will not be too late to get up and take a bath then.

Time passed peacefully and comfortably. The sweltering heat of August raged in Backlund for six days without any sign of stopping. The temperature remained in the thirties, causing unavoidable heat and annoyance.

If one has enough life experience and keen observation skills, one can probably already assert that this summer will end in mid-August.

For example, Mr. Joel is taking a walk right now. He is leisurely strolling out of his house, carrying a gift in his hand, and looks like he is going to visit a friend on the same street or in the neighborhood.

Philip greeted the other person as he stepped out the door, then hailed a horse-drawn carriage and headed towards the transit point of the one-bedroom house he had rented in the Backlund Bridge area.

7:30 p.m.

In the bustling Brave Ones Bar, Philip pushed open the door and entered, ignoring the many patrons. After confirming with Kaspass that there were no special circumstances, he went to the card room where Maric was.

Maric, dressed in a white shirt and black vest, sat alone at the card table. The dozen or so zombies who had surrounded him the previous times were nowhere to be seen; he had apparently sent them away somewhere.

"A total of seventeen."

Philip pulled out the stock he had accumulated over the past few days from his pocket and put it all on the table. "I'm not quite sure how well the 'Crimson Moon Crown' simulates a full moon, but under a real full moon, an 'Ember' can probably last for about ten minutes."

"Yes, I've already tried that."

Marich nodded, his face solemn. "However, in battle, the effective time of this talisman may be compressed. The Indulgence Faction can unleash even greater power under the full moon, so we must not let our guard down."

"Don't worry about that." Philip smiled and tapped the frame of his silver-rimmed monocle. "The extraordinary item I bought at the party means I no longer rely solely on the 'Ember' spell when facing the full moon."

"In times of crisis, I can help you as long as you come close to me."

Maric stared intently at the monocle, about to say something, when a calm, indifferent female voice suddenly rang out in the suddenly chilly air around them:

"Take three with you, just in case."

Philip's pupils contracted slightly, and he subconsciously looked towards the corner, only to find that a beautiful woman in a black court dress was already standing there, lifting the hem of her dress to greet him.

"Sharon," Marich said succinctly, whether introducing her to Philip or greeting the person who had appeared.

Having already suspected this, Philip quickly accepted reality, calmed himself down, pondered the words of the woman named Sharon, and nodded in agreement: "Okay, the remaining 14 are yours."

After all, no one can predict whether something unexpected will happen in a crisis. If the "Eye of the Mind" malfunctions, under the full moon, the only thing one can rely on is the "Ember" talisman.

After submitting the talisman, Philip, seeing that no one else appeared, asked:

"Have you gathered any intelligence on the enemy?"

Sharon's azure eyes were calm as water, and she said without any concealment: "Steve, the Sequence 5 'Wraith,' Zang, the Sequence 6 'Zombie,' and two Sequence 7 'Werewolves,' Steve will lead them to infiltrate the South District Hospital tonight to perform a broken but grand blood sacrifice with the blood there to restore their power."

So tonight is the perfect opportunity to launch an attack. As long as we concentrate our forces to take down Steve first and seize the "Crimson Moon Crown," everything else will be secondary to our own Sequence 5 fighter, Ms. Sharon. Philip pondered for a moment, then said:

"When will it start?"

"Meet at 11:20 tonight." Sharon's usually indifferent tone became more serious. "Even if this operation fails, we absolutely cannot allow their bloody sacrifice to succeed, or the consequences will be severe."

"Even if it's not about capturing living people for sacrifice, if the scale is large enough and the sacrifice is responded to, the power Steve gains in a short period of time could far exceed his best condition."

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

Philip looked up at the clock on the wall that pointed to nine o'clock in the evening, nodded slightly, said nothing more, found a place to sit down, and fell into a silent atmosphere with the two of them.

Backlund, South District Hospital.

Four figures stood in front of the blood bank.

The crimson moonlight streaming through the window cast its glow onto the otherwise pitch-black corridor, gradually revealing the figures of five people. One of them, a handsome young man, had his hands and feet firmly bound, his eyes filled with resentment, yet he could only obediently lower his head.

"Ha, what a piece of trash."

Seeing this, the man closest to the youth looked at him with a mocking expression. "Kid, let me tell you the truth. Not only as a vampire, but as a Sequence 7, and even as an Extraordinary, you are the most useless person I've ever met."

Upon hearing this, the bound youth's previously limp body sprang to life. His blood-red eyes widened, and he excitedly raised his head, standing beneath the four cold gazes. Finally, he gave up struggling and retorted almost silently:

"Vampire Clan."

Emlyn White's body trembled slightly. His anger and pride had long been suppressed by the iron fist of reality, leaving only the pain of his wounds and the fear of the unknown that lay ahead.

Damn it, why did this have to happen!

He just wanted to steal some blood to drink.

(End of this chapter)