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

Your recognition is a huge motivation for me to keep writing.

Seeing that you guys get the jokes and the funny parts I wrote makes me incredibly happy.

I don't play games anymore; I just study outlines, write books, and read your comments (secretly).

The feeling of having your writing recognized is truly addictive.

It's the kind of dream I have every night.

Next week we should be competing against Sanjiang. Actually, with the help of you gentlemen, I should have been able to keep up with this book.

But I'm worried about unforeseen circumstances, so please continue reading over the next few days.

After all, the Sanjiang Recommendation before a book goes on sale is very important.

In return, I will update frequently after the book is released.

It is now confirmed that there will be 10 chapters on the day of release, each with 4000 words, which is equivalent to about 15 chapters before the release.

There will be another 5 to 10 chapters released the next day, depending on how well my draft progresses.

As for after it's published, there will be a guaranteed minimum of two long chapters of around 4000 words each day, and a burst of 10 chapters each month.

Finally, thank you all for your support and patronage.

It is my greatest honor and motivation to have your recognition.

Thank you!

Chapter 54: Drinking Raw Rat Blood! I'm Simply a Genius

Ivan weighed the sense of power in his hand.

After confirming the leap in his physical condition, Evan turned and went into the kitchen, pulling an old kitchen knife from the wooden rack next to the cutting board.

It was a German-made small cleaver that had been in service for over ten years. The blade gleamed with a cold light and the edge was sharpened to a fine point.

The mother had just spent 2 cents to finish the treatment when something happened to her just two days later.

Ivan never used it again after that.

He gripped the knife handle and, without hesitation, slashed it down onto his left index finger.

He paused for a moment when the blade touched his skin.

It didn't feel like cutting my own flesh.

It looks more like cutting a piece of high-quality, thick cowhide.

The blade sank to a depth less than one-third the depth of normal skin.

"After the physical breakthrough, the skin's toughness and resistance to impact have undergone a qualitative change."

He smiled, readjusted his grip on the knife, and increased the downward pressure.

The blade finally cut through the skin, leaving a wound about half a centimeter deep on the fingertip.

Crimson blood gushed out.

Then he saw it with his own eyes.

In ten seconds, the blood coagulated automatically at the wound, forming a thin, dark red scab.

Five minutes later, the edges of the scab began to dry and shrink, entering the recovery period.

It is foreseeable that the wound will not leave a scar for at most two hours.

"Brilliant."

"Although it can't achieve the instant self-healing of a vampire, this speed is enough for me to deal with most of the fatal injuries I suffered before."

After confirming his condition, Evan went back to his bedroom and drew back the curtains.

The sky outside was just beginning to brighten.

The sun is slowly rising above the horizon on a winter morning.

A blood-red sun had just peeked out from behind the buildings, bathing the entire Guding Street in a warm orange hue.

Sunlight streamed obliquely into the bedroom through the window.

Ivan stood by the window, arms outstretched, letting himself bask in the morning sun.

No discomfort.

There was no stinging on the skin, no burning sensation in the eyes, and none of the instinctive fears that are typical of vampires.

Standing in the sunlight is no different from being a normal person.

"Just as I expected."

He clenched his fist.

"With the basic vampire traits and a constitution of 5.4, at least I no longer have to worry about being killed by some random cold knife or cold gun."

"As a witcher, I have no intention of dying under the pitchforks of mortals."

squeak...

A faint scratching sound came from the corner of the wall.

That was the sound of some kind of living thing moving through the cracks in the moldy walls and wooden floors.

Ivan's ears twitched.

The next instant.

Whoosh.

He then threw the kitchen knife in his hand with a purely instinctive, aimless motion.

The blade spun once in the air and precisely embedded itself in the moldy, blackened patch of plaster in the corner of the bedroom.

Beneath the blade, firmly pinned to the ground, was a large, brown-haired rat.

The rat was almost the size of an adult man's hand, its red eyes were wide open, and its limbs were still twitching in their final moments before death.

Swift. Precise.

There's no need to think, no need to look back.

Ivan walked to the corner, bent down, pulled out a kitchen knife, and picked up the still convulsing rat.

The rough mouse fur rubbed between his fingers, emitting a musty smell and the stench of the sewer.

He picked up the rat and gave the empty bedroom a strange smile.

"Brothers!"

"Today I'm going to do something really tough—drink raw rat blood!"

"Tsk, it's a pity no one sent any gifts."

He took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself.

But his sense of smell, amplified more than ten times, immediately diminished his original resolve.

The aroma was simply too rich.

Rats droppings, damp musty smell, rotting food scraps, sewer water, the sour stench of fleas, the rusty smell of blood itself...

Each one entered his nasal cavity in distinct layers.

The mouse's mouth had just reached his lips.

"yue...yue!!"

He turned his head abruptly and almost vomited up the potion he had drunk the night before.

He leaned against the wall for a few seconds to catch his breath.

Then he gritted his teeth.

"Let's go! Cheers!"

He held his breath and forcibly blocked his sense of smell.

Then, he squeezed the mouse's soft body tightly with both hands, pointed the knife at his mouth, and squeezed out its blood like squeezing a bag of milk.

A warm, viscous liquid flowed into his mouth.

The taste of rust dominated my taste buds.

"Ok?"

He blinked.

"It tastes a bit fishy, ​​but not as disgusting as I imagined?"

"Oh no! Now I'm really a vampire!"

He gulped down the handful of blood.

As his throat bobbed, his secondary brain emitted a kind of "satisfaction" hum within his body, like a long-starved child finally getting a sip of milk.

It was at the very moment he swallowed his last mouthful of blood.

The panel exploded.

Yersinia pestis detected!

Rickettsia mollusks detected!

[Streptobacter candidiasis detected!]

Salmonella typhimurium detected!

Lymphocytic choriomeningitis virus detected!

Rabies virus detected!

……

The prompts flooded the panel like a burst dam, one line after another.

Ivan pinched the shriveled, dead rat, his mouth spitting out a blood-stained grin.