I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

The binding force was astonishingly strong.

Ivana, whose physique had already surpassed 2.3, looked like a chick bound by wire in front of these two tentacles.

She turned and ran.

The speed was outrageous; Evan's feet were already off the ground, and he was being carried on her shoulder like a sack of potatoes being kidnapped by robbers.

"Senior brother!"

Ivan turned around and shouted.

At the other end of the alley, Richard's fist froze in mid-air. His face, which had been filled with murderous intent just moments before, instantly turned furious as he winked at Ivan.

His innate Witcher instincts told him that his senior brother seemed to have other tricks up his sleeve.

"Fuck!"

He pretended to yell angrily, threw Priss to the ground like trash, and turned to chase after him.

Then Evan discovered the situation just as he had expected.

Richard was not good at running.

His explosive power was terrifying, his strength was superb, and he had an inverted triangle physique like he stepped out of a comic book. However, when he ran, his lower body bore a weight that he shouldn't have had to bear.

With each step he took, his torso swayed dramatically from side to side, like a ship with its center of gravity off.

Less than two seconds.

When Evan looked back, Richard was already out of sight.

As night fell, a cold wind swept into the alleyways from the city of Bolton in mid-November.

Evan struggled to break free from the two fleshy tentacles, but to no avail.

With each exertion of force, the tentacles tightened their grip, and his ribs even began to creak under the strain.

His female assistant's steady voice rang in his ears, without a single inflection.

"Stop struggling."

Her tone was as if she were reading meeting minutes.

"You've chosen the wrong side."

"There are only five active members of Adolf's lineage of witchers in the entire city of Bolton."

"We have now sent four of them away."

"You think you can fight us all by yourself?"

While letting his splitting headache be turned into a jumble of excruciating pain, Ivan clung desperately to every wisp of inherited memory seeping from his demon-hunting traits.

The whispers of the old witcher by the campfire resurfaced.

"One of the signature characteristics of the Bloodthirsty race: flesh and blood mutation."

"Thirsty species possessing this characteristic have powerful extensibility and regenerative ability in their bodies."

"It relies on its own high-quality blood as support to form strong fleshy tentacles or wing membrane tissue."

"But its nature is not indestructible."

"Its essence is similar to the human corpus cavernosum, which becomes hard and strong by filling with blood."

The moment Evan saw this memory, he almost choked to death by the taste of blood in his throat.

Those crimson tentacles, which looked as handsome and ferocious as ghouls...

After all this, you're telling me it's essentially a sponge?

"If I gain this property, won't I be able to grow as big as I want?"

"Damn it! What am I thinking?!"

"Since it relies on blood flow..."

Ivan's mind raced as he was caught between excruciating pain and a sense of absurdity.

"Then the blood inside must also participate in the blood circulation throughout the body."

Thinking of this, Ivan licked his teeth.

There were still traces of the Blood-Burning Potion that had been gulped down there.

The next second, he suddenly turned his head and bit the crimson tentacle that was wrapped around his shoulder.

Squeak.

The tentacles' outer layer was tougher than he had imagined.

The first bite felt like biting into a piece of old cowhide shoe sole; my front teeth couldn't get in.

But with his physique that broke through 2.3, coupled with his crazy, almost mad, mind-numbing nature, Evan relentlessly persisted.

The second bite. The third bite. The fourth bite.

He frantically rubbed, tore, and ground the same spot with his incisors.

at last.

The outer skin was bitten through.

A large amount of foul-smelling, dark red blood sprayed into Evan's mouth.

The smell was a hundred times stronger than that of a sewer, and his stomach churned.

But he didn't vomit.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Evan frantically spat his mouthful of blood and saliva, mixed with the residue of the Blood Burning Potion, into the bitten wound.

One bite. Two bites. Three bites.

The female assistant in front felt the pain in her back and frowned slightly, but quickly regained her composure.

She didn't even slow down her running pace.

"This little wound."

Her voice came from ahead, indifferent and cold.

"It means nothing to me."

Chapter 45: Forced Kiss and Medicine Feeding, Counter-Killing the Vampire! (Please Read On)

Ivan completely ignored his female assistant's disdain.

His mouth was wide open, and his incisors were still frantically tearing and grinding at the wound on the crimson tentacle.

The foul-smelling blood, mixed with the remnants of the Blood-Burning Potion in his mouth, was being fed into the wound, mouthful by mouthful.

The female assistant didn't care.

She ran without stopping, her posture as composed as if victory was already in her grasp.

"I advise you to give up struggling."

Her voice came from ahead, steady and cold, without a trace of panting.

"I have thoroughly investigated your background."

"Your family is a branch of the Mason family."

Ivan paused his biting motion slightly.

"Our ancestry can be traced back to a witch in the seventeenth century."

The female assistant continued speaking, her tone carrying a sense of superiority as if she had just revealed the answer.

"You don't really think that your grandparents and your parents died for those literal reasons, do you?"

Ivan was taken aback.

The intense pain jolted my mind into a state of paralysis for a second.

The female assistant seemed to have a lot to say.

“Arkham has many secrets. The Mason family is one of them.”

She paused for a moment, then gave a cold laugh.

"It is not easy to worship an immortal person."

"The invitation to return home this year has fallen to you."

"You should know what this means."

Ivan's fingers tightened suddenly.

He vaguely remembered some scenes.

Occasionally, letters from our hometown will appear on the wooden dining table at home, sealed with wax and bearing the crest of our declining family.

Every time they open the package, the faces of the grandparents and parents all turn quite grim.

The atmosphere at home would be gloomy for days, and no one would want to mention the contents of the letter.

"If you stay with us obediently, you can live a little longer."

The female assistant's last sentence seemed like some kind of bait.

While Ivan was still struggling to piece together these clues in his mind, which was still in turmoil from the pain.

thump.

My body tumbled twice during the violent shaking.

Ivan crashed heavily onto the damp, muddy ground.

He struggled to lift his head, supporting himself on the ground.

His female assistant had already led him out of Guding Street for almost two kilometers.

Before him lay the familiar southeastern countryside, with the silhouette of an abandoned factory faintly visible beneath the distant cliffs.

The female assistant, who had been walking briskly just moments before, was now lying prone on the ground three meters away from him.