Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

The dug-up graves were reopened, and pairs of black claws emerged from within, their roars echoing throughout the cemetery. Around the three, monsters burst from the earth, writhing with hideous bodies resembling tree bark. The cemetery was filled with people.

The gravedigger stood with his arms crossed in front of Ralf, his shovel stuck in the ground, his single eye filled with mockery as he looked at Ralf.

"You are just like I used to be, man."

The same black-clad style, the same way of communicating, and the same imposing presence. It's not that Ralf's aura is particularly similar to the monster's, but rather that they are completely identical, or even slightly surpassed.

“I will bury you again, and when you emerge from the earth, you will become my best servant.” The gravedigger casually arranged the fates of the three. “I have a good idea to dismember the woman. I will let you, after your transformation, eat this woman piece by piece.”

"Hehehe, don't worry, Miss Sylvie, you'll be fine."

The endless stream of monsters emboldened the Gravekeeper, who brazenly detailed his plans, his manner exactly mirroring that of Ralf at the beginning. If Violet hadn't already confirmed the bloodline of the Bühler family, she might have genuinely believed the Gravekeeper was Ralf's twin brother, a brother embodying all of Ralf's flaws.

Faced with the threat, Ralph pulled out a small sandalwood box, his expression relaxed, his gloves moving along the patterns on the box.

“I’ve been called a monster by those two little brats Lyle and Kevin many times, behind their own backs. Kids say the darndest things, that’s how I see it, so I’ve put a lot of effort into their upbringing.”

The box opened, and Ralf reached inside, retrieving a relatively long and narrow special bullet. The stone-like casing was covered in what appeared to be a layer of swirling black grime; the Philosopher's Stone was far dirtier than he had imagined. This stone represented the alchemist's death and his hatred for his own unyielding fate. It was the Death Stone, the stone that ended all things.

Ralph inserted it into the chamber.

"But when I saw you, I realized how terrible it feels to have a monster similar to me."

Raise your gun and aim.

“I hate it. Someone like me, whom my nephew calls a monster, someone who brings fear, only needs me, Ralph, and that’s enough.”

Ralph smiled, a smile that brought winter to the desolate cemetery.

"Give my regards to Ba Jin, the gravedigger."

The bullet flew out, making a faint sound.

The Dragonfire Alchemy Gun didn't showcase much of its excellent performance as a firearm when using the Philosopher's Stone bullet; it was merely a frustrating booster, "throwing" the Philosopher's Stone toward the Gravekeeper.

Compared to other bullets, the black bullets flew relatively slowly, perhaps because the slippery surface reduced the impact of the gunpowder. The mud-like substance made this final bullet a silent, deadly arrow, just like death itself.

Three undead blocked the trajectory of the projectile; they were the human shields found by the gravedigger.

The bark-like black skin came into contact with the black bullet, the two similar colors colliding.

The Philosopher's Stone is like a drop of water merging into the body of a zombie.

Okay, it's not about integrating, it's about permeating.

The Philosopher's Stone worked its magic the moment it touched the corpse; the living corpse it touched melted.

Like inserting a candle into the frosting of a cake, the Philosopher's Stone bullet pierced through the three undead without any resistance, and then continued its charge toward the Gravekeeper without slowing down.

Surprise flashed like a spark in that malevolent, one-eyed eye. When the bullet approached, it was too late to dodge. The gravedigger could only pick up his shovel and make a defensive gesture.

The bullet struck the long handle of the shovel with a loud thud, miraculously altering its trajectory upon impact. It finally pierced the gravedigger's shoulder blade, leaving a hole the size of an index finger in his left shoulder. For the two-meter-tall gravedigger, that small hole was smaller than the tear in his clothing.

The gravedigger breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Ralf again.

"You really gave me a surprise."

Ralph put down his musket.

The gravedigger let out a strange laugh.

"It's too late to surrender now. I'm going to dig a hole in your stomach and break your spine in two. It doesn't matter, you don't need it anymore."

Ralph did not retaliate against the gravedigger's threats.

Ralph was lenient, even toward the dead.

"The second one."

Three undead bodies, riddled with bullets, had disintegrated into dust. The Gravedigger, with a twisted grin, lunged at Ralf, shovel in hand. Unaware that his body had already turned to dust as he leaped forward, the Gravedigger's legs came to a halt in the first second, turning to ash. The second second, his lower body disintegrated in mid-air, while his upper body continued flying. The third second, it shattered, the flying shovel caught in Ralf's hand, and a long, narrow sword fell to the ground amidst the dust.

“The second fragment.” Sylvie carefully held the sword in her arms. The two blades of the cursed sword were not sharp. The blades, which had been blunted and rounded, had several broken nicks. The only sharp point was the tip, which was also the only place on the sword that was still gleaming.

Upon entering the cemetery, the gravedigger appears, and Ralf shoots, killing him. Ignoring Ralf's lengthy, morbidly humorous description, the hunt for the gravedigger is remarkably simple. The Philosopher's Stone, the Death Stone, creates wounds; touch it and you die. The two ladies, still caught in the past, do nothing; the gravedigger is already dead.

"So powerful, the Philosopher's Stone." Sylveet's respect for Ralf and the Philosopher's Stone deepened even further.

Ralph looked at the shovel in his hand, lost in thought.

He took out a knife, cut off the bark from the shovel handle, and followed the wound from the collision with the Philosopher's Stone bullet. After a little effort, a golden cane was pulled from the shovel.

"This is the scepter held by the church priest; it is a ritual implement for forgiving penitents."

"Spoils of war." The cane disappeared into Ralph's coat.

Stepping out of the cemetery, the slightly more pleasant scenery lifted the spirits of the three.

Silvet walked over to Ralph.

“I would like to express my gratitude to you and Mr. Bajin for all the help you have given to Degonris. Perhaps in your eyes I am still a naive nobleman who knows nothing, but Degonris will have a better future.”

Ralph didn't continue his discouraging lecture; he seemed to be in a very good mood now.

"A commendable determination."

Violet clung tightly to Ralf's right arm, while the goddess of flowers from Narania wore a sweet smile.

"What's making you so happy?"

“I have found a way, a way to solve all the suffering of Drogonris.”

Chapter 484 Despicable is Humanity's Advantage

Loshutal Castle.

Amidst the decadent aristocratic atmosphere, a thick stench of blood mingled. Lyle's eyes, hidden in Beatrice's flowing hair, were fixed on the Bloodstone Grail held by the statue in the center of the hall, its blood-red pupils fixed on the statue.

The revelry with the Loshutar vampires had been going on for about seven days. Through Nia's disguise and Beatrice's assistance, Lyle had been recognized as one of them. Just like now, they were feeding, embracing each other, and digging their fangs into each other's necks. Lyle even suspected that the vampires' healing abilities were something they had developed themselves. They fed at least three times a day, tearing each other's skin with their fangs; blood addicts would even crush each other's spines in such embraces, causing further injury. Screams and cheers echoed in the revelry. Both sounds only fueled their hunger.

To maintain the facade, Lyle and Beatrice pretended to feed each other, but only Lyle was faking it. He was numb to Beatrice's sharp teeth, and if it weren't for Nia supporting and coordinating him inside her body, Lyle might not have made it through.

“The ritual setup is complete.” Lyle and Beatrice swayed and twirled slowly in the hall, like the other feeders, as if dancing. “As an important blood sacrifice, Karen will definitely be present at the ritual, which saves us the trouble of finding her.”

Beatrice's cheek rubbed against Lyle's shoulder. From the two gaps where the vampire's fangs had bitten her, black, wriggling tentacles grew, squeezing out Beatrice's teeth. Nia strictly controlled every part of Lyle's flesh, not allowing Beatrice to drink any more, even though Lyle's blood could regenerate infinitely.

“Beatrice is a glutton!” The tip of the black tentacle swelled into a small fleshy ball and gently tapped her cheek.

The vampire smiled and pressed her tentacles down with her icy face.

Beatrice's gaze swept across the vampires, assessing their strength based on their blood-drinking status. Vampires were dark creatures with a strict hierarchy, a trait reflected in their feeding behavior. Higher ranks yielded the best companions and food; beauty and power were intertwined in Lorshutar.

A soft humming sound echoed behind his ear, and Lyle smiled. It was one of Beatrice's endearing habits; when she was in a good mood, she would make amusing noises from her nose, like a cat's purring.

“There won’t be any major problems. Apart from Duke Delaris, my strength is no less than anyone here. Your blood has given me strength, dear Lyle.”

“My pain has been worthwhile. But, aren’t the Loshutar vampires a bit weak? I mean, the Duke and his offspring have such a huge power gap.” Based on the pressure the Grand Duke exerted on him, Lyle judged that he was at least a seventh-tier expert, a level higher than Mr. Dragon, although the Bone Mech King’s actual combat power might be far beyond that. But in the hall, most of the vampires didn’t exert much pressure on him; there wasn’t a single marquis, and among the earls, he only saw Joshua and Beatrice after she had drunk blood.

A significant gap in strength.

"Blood is the power of vampires, and Draris is not as selfless as he claims. How much power do you think he would give to his offspring, one percent? One-thousandth? His blood is just a catalyst, a key to unlocking our own power."

In other words, Beatrice became a count solely through her blood-sucking of Lyle over the past few days. The so-called "blood of the gods" is actually Sheriu's blood, and Lyle himself is essentially a naturally healthy blood-sucking artifact.

"I'm looking forward to a fierce battle, Lyle. Are you sure the distress call has been sent?"

“Of course,” Lyle said, taking Beatrice’s hand and spinning her around the dance floor, winking. “Be patient and look forward to the surprise.”

……

A hundred meters away from Degonris, two figures lay prone in a cave, gazing at Degonris and the vampire castle.

"Mr. Anonymous, haven't you eaten in a long time?"

Simulating celestial bodies pulling water vapor in the air, the light is distorted around the two people, creating an optical camouflage with the leaves.

"Really? I'm a spellcaster; all I need to do is absorb magic power." Nameless pulled a small box from his pocket.

"Want some cookies, Kevin?"

“Thank you, Mr. Nameless, I’m already full.” Looking at the box, Kevin felt a bad feeling. “Mr. Nameless can make cookies? What flavor?”

"It tastes like ashes. I bought it for experimental research. Giving it to you isn't a waste."

Faced with the nameless figure, Kevin's boundless curiosity was somewhat suppressed. He turned his head to look ahead, focusing his attention on Drogonris. Sending Mr. Ralph over there was definitely the right thing to do; he had already blown up a tower, and although the commotion was much less intense the next day, Kevin certainly didn't believe the wolf was resting.

That's right, just like now, the fires in eastern Dagonris indicate yet another act of wolves' brutality.

Kevin smacked his lips.

"Is Mr. Ralf going to destroy Dagonris? I clearly wrote in my letter that I was going to break the seal."

The nameless man continued writing his observation notes, and although he was happy to continue like this, he still expressed his concern as a fellow lich.

"Kevin, when do we start saving the Plague Doctor?"

Kevin pinched his chin and shifted his gaze to the castle shrouded in shadow.

"Wait a little longer, the time is not right."

The fire that ignited in Degonris lit up a spark in Kevin's eyes.

……

Degonris.

The third hunt is over.

Ralph burned the Library of Drogonris to the ground.

This time, their target was the librarian at the Eastern Library.

Again, it was terrain that could be destroyed, and Ralf didn't hold back.

Knowledge is power, knowledge brings warmth.

When Ralf and his companions pushed open the library doors, they were greeted by bookshelves that filled their entire field of vision, neatly arranged and spotless. The existence of such a magnificent library in this barren land surprised the wealthy heiress Violet a little.

The townspeople of Dagonris are struggling to survive, so naturally no one would visit this library. But his bookshelves are neat and tidy, not even a single cobweb can be seen in the corner, and the flames on the candlesticks are arranged symmetrically, illuminating the neatly arranged books as if they were treasures.

Since someone regularly cleans the interior and there are no outsiders, it's clear that the librarian is the one who cleans the books.

What the enemy cherishes, Ralf destroys.

The alchemical gunpowder exploded at the doorway, several bookshelves crashed to the ground, and the burning books turned into fireballs, the flames still spreading.