Endless Debt

Forget the offering that is akin to a freak show; as the host unveiled the white cloth, exposing the Blood and Flesh Derivation, the auction truly heated up, with sellers who hold wealth beginning to take it seriously.

Bologue did not know what that thing was, but he could sense its importance from the reactions of those present.

A quick sidelong glance revealed that the most crucial aspect was that the mysterious woman beside him also increased her focus, staring intently at the twisted mass of flesh, as if the purpose of her visit was precisely this bizarre object.

"What is that?" Bologue asked proactively.

The woman gradually calmed down, turning to look at Bologue, with a vague smile beneath her veil.

"Are you asking me for information?"

"You seem like a generous person," Bologue said.

The woman chuckled, her blood-red eyes examining Bologue, who did not shy away, his blue eyes meeting hers; even with dim lighting and separated by a veil, her eyes were still dazzling, as pure as blood-red rubies.

"What are you looking at?"

The woman deliberately covered her chest, moving her shoulders, her voice carrying a magical allure, like the sirens in tales that bewitched men.

"Your eyes."

Bologue's expression remained icy, his gaze as clear as ever.

The woman frowned slightly, moving closer to Bologue, with a subtle scent of blood mixed with some perfume wafting towards him.

The two were very close, separated only by a veil, yet Bologue remained unaffected, his complexion as pale as a bloodless corpse.

The stare lasted for over ten seconds, ending with the woman's retreat, restoring a safe distance between them as she regarded Bologue with slight frustration.

Bologue's calm demeanor was so unyielding that it caused the woman to feel somewhat defeated.

Previously, her few words were enough to leave men muddle-headed, but they had no effect on Bologue, as if she was merely a clothed ape to him.

"Your eyes are beautiful," Bologue stated unexpectedly.

The woman paused, looking at Bologue in disbelief, realizing there was someone able to resist her allure while simultaneously countering her.

The worst part was, she seemed to misunderstand Bologue's intent.

The woman's eyes became more tempting, yet this was also her way of taking Bologue seriously, having finally met an evenly matched opponent after years of dominating the romantic world; although the encounter's setting was less than ideal, the woman found it quite romantic.

But just as she prepared to launch a new offensive against Bologue, he redirected his gaze back to the stage, looking at the crying mass of flesh.

"I have a friend, his eyes are like yours, also ruby-like, very beautiful."

"Ah?"

The woman was somewhat baffled; was this some new type of romantic conversation? Isn't the topic supposed to revolve back to herself? Why suddenly mention a friend?

The most unimaginable part was Bologue's ensuing words.

"My friend's surname is Villarys; he said it is an ancient family name. What do you think?"

Bologue's tone became cold, as he turned back to look at the woman again, she noticed the faint golden halo concealed within his blue irises.

The woman fell silent, and her silence confirmed Bologue's suspicions.

The Night Race's eyes were too distinguishable, those blood-infused rubies that lacked human coloration.

Since their conversation began, Bologue had been carefully observing her, apart from her ruby eyes, another identity marker was her blood aura and its frenzied essence.

Bologue was a Debtor, his umbilical cord to the eerie exceptionally sensitive; in his recent close encounter, he keenly sensed the woman was also a Debtor.

As for the woman's sense of familiarity, Bologue suspected it might be due to the mutual feeling between Debtors, the other possibility stemming from the blood of Serey.

Serey had told him before, the Night Race was very sensitive to blood, particularly to the blood of High Tier Night Race.

With generations of bloodline continuation, pure blood would inevitably accumulate some impurity, rendering subsequent Night Race descendants less pure and noble.

As the Night Race Lord, direct bloodline of the Night King, Serey's blood was immensely valuable, even after simple purification by Alchemists, his blood could directly be utilized as Alchemy Materials.

"Many Low Tier Night Race spend their lives praying for my blood," Serey drunkenly told him one time.

"Speaking of which, Bologue, you are already an Undead. If you drank my blood, could you become a Night Race member? If you became a Night Race member and carried dual undead status, would you become a super undead?"

Serey's logic began to falter at that time, growing excited while speaking, then directly slitting his wrist before Bologue's eyes.

It must be said, being an Undead indeed lives up to its name. Relying on their immortal nature, they cut their wrists so cleanly and neatly, blood spraying several meters high and splashing all over Bologue's face.

Then Serey gave Bologue a bear hug, restraining him while shouting, "This is Lord Serey's blood," and simultaneously stuffed the wound into Bologue's mouth.

One had to admit, Serey's muscular body wasn't just for show. No matter how much one resisted, it was impossible to budge Serey. Fortunately, Bode intervened at a crucial moment, the old skeleton knocked Serey down with a punch, but by then, Bologue was already bathed in blood.

Afterwards, Bologue washed himself repeatedly several times, but there was still a strange blood aura lingering on his body. When he was at the Order Bureau, Geoffrey even asked if he had turned blood into perfume.

Bologue suspected that another major reason for the familiar feeling coming from this female Night Race in front of him was Serey's blood. After all, it was the blood of a Night Race Lord, and it was normal for some residual power to remain.

Thinking about this, Bologue recalled another doubt. To this day, he still didn't know what Tiers the Condensers in the Undying Club belonged to.

"Vileris..."

The woman whispered this ancient surname and, after pondering for a moment, smiled slightly, "It's been a long time since I've heard that surname."

In the next moment, the woman's gaze turned fierce, the seductive aura vanished, replaced by a piercing murderous intent. Bologue's skin felt slightly pricked, as if pierced by needles.

"May I know the name of your friend?"

"I'm a newcomer."

Bologue showed not the slightest fear; instead, he took advantage of the woman.

The woman was at a loss for words, unexpectedly finding herself being blackmailed by Bologue.

Reflecting back, their conversation was strangely odd. The woman, with her heart set on a romantic duel, played several rounds of mental chess with Bologue. Yet Bologue had never thought about such matters at all; from the start, this guy was scheming to make her his guide.

"Blood and Flesh Derivation... a technique for creating life."

The hazy pink atmosphere dissipated as Bologue spoiled the woman's mood, and she couldn't be bothered to keep up the pretense, speaking coldly.

"Those madmen create deformed flesh infused with powerful fusion and regeneration. Of course, this flesh has no consciousness, it's more like screaming in biological instincts."

A hint of disgust flashed through the woman's eyes, the blob of flesh on the high platform still emitting wails, as if its very existence was a form of extreme suffering.

This sound was too disturbing, so the host brought in a sedative and repeatedly injected it into the flesh to calm it down, while the audience bid feverishly.

"Why do you want it so badly? What use is it?" Bologue continued to ask.

"Healing, no matter how severe the physical injury, if placed inside for a period, it can be healed. Even severed limbs can recover."

The woman spoke, pointing at the organs scattered over the lump of flesh.

"See? In fact, from birth, it's meant to be a repository for human organs. Its fusion and regenerative capabilities are excellent. Cut open the lump of flesh, place the injured inside, and their flesh will grow together with the flesh lump. After a period of healing, just cut the injured back out of the flesh lump.

As for the issue of severed limbs, while coexisting with the injured, it will use the injured's flesh to grow. You could say the organs it grows are the injured's organs, ready to be used for surgery."

"Oh? Is that so," Bologue remained unfazed, then said, "It sounds like the Elixir of Immortality."

"You know about the Elixir of Immortality?"

The woman found Bologue to be more mysterious, piquing her curiosity thoroughly.

"I'm not as ignorant as you think," Bologue said.

"Then do you know the difference between it and the techniques of the Scarlet Sect?"

The woman asked again. This time, Bologue lost his words, while the woman, as if having won over Bologue, let out bursts of laughter.

She didn't keep Bologue hanging; after a few laughs, she admitted frankly.

"The Elixir of Immortality stems from the power of the Crimson Queen. From the start, it was sinister and impure. When you use it to heal flesh, you also attract the attention of the Crimson Queen... Are you willing to be noticed by such a terrifying being?"

The woman's rhetorical question only made Bologue feel a chill, the cold coming from the handprint like a scar on his chest.

"Then why do you need it? As an immortal Night Race, this thing should be useless to you, right?" Bologue countered.

The woman's initial various reactions exposed her intentions. She was also very interested in this Blood and Flesh Derivation; perhaps her visit tonight was precisely for it.

"Hmm? You could say it's not entirely useless," the woman showed a troubled expression, "but its blood can be used for sustenance, and with it, it can feed a large group of the Night Race."

The woman showed an amused expression, reiterating to Bologue.

"A large group indeed."