While Flanders was slashing at the Wolf People, he kept grasping a pocket watch with his other hand. Amidst the countdown, his hoarse roar prompted the militia shield holders at the front to step back in unison, while the gunners behind them intensified their firepower to suppress the enemy across.

They all knew what was about to happen next.

The cold wind soon picked up, and the variously contorted corpses beside each militia soldier started shivering, coming back to life with a terrifying posture. They remained silent and, as they rose, lunged forward with stiff bodies to form a wall of corpses.

The summoning ritual was working on the battlefield, and every ten minutes another wave of fallen corpses would be summoned back, only to be felled again by the frenzied Wolf People.

Yet, these corpses provided the militia the time needed to rotate defenses. Prepared in advance, the adjutant swiftly led a fresh batch of warriors into the "clean" battlefield, where there was only blood and no corpses, while the exhausted soldiers retreated by another path.

This procedure was very smooth, proving that such actions were not happening for the first time.

However, the equally weary General Flanders did not retreat. He took a moment to grab the meat bun handed by his guard, stuffing it into his mouth with a few bites, then sat atop a blood-stained rock to down the strangely flavored alchemical energy potion, cursing, "Now even my burps taste like alchemical potions."

His eyes were veined with blood, but it was not yet his time to rest.

Looking back, the lord he had chosen to serve and the noble Blood Vulture Duke were all fighting on the battlefield. To retreat home at this time would only earn him ridicule.

Besides, I am a Blood Servant!

How could a Blood Servant send their master off to battle and hide away to enjoy peace?

Both sides fighting had lost their senses in a frenzy, driven by reasons forbidding them to retreat. Even someone as calm as Kudell could only continuously escalate the fight at the battlefield’s eye of the storm.

The warriors from both sides were like chunks of different-colored meat endlessly fed into a meat grinder, shredded beneath the swirling blades into oddly colored blood food, then offered to the greedy eater known as "The Master of Hunting."

But when calculated, Transylvania’s side could still rely on the initial embrace and Blood Covenant to barely recover some blood, whereas the Wolf People’s side was purely fighting a war of attrition.

This resulted in quite a black humorous outcome.

The People’s Army unit stationed on the lord’s position was almost wiped out during the morning’s rotation count, replaced by members of the Blood Vulture Clan, which soared from over four thousand to nearly thirty thousand in three days.

Not only fallen humans were raised as vampires; even dead elves and dwarves weren’t "wasted."

This "traditional ability" of vampires was fiercely protested by Elf Ranger Captain Dymes, but with urgency overriding laws now, even Kudell wasn’t "taking advantage of the situation." Elves should drop their pretense.

Moreover, Sir Morphy swore that once the new Origin Blood Pool was acquired, he would grant freedom to these unfortunate souls, so the elves begrudgingly accepted it.

On average, each vampire thus gained roughly five offspring, even Kudell gained Lieutenant Mia as a Blood Descendant.

From an evil perspective, perhaps this was what the Blood Vulture Clan higher-ups hoped to see... yet Triss could swear by little Mo Fei’s name she had no such intentions, as for Murphy...

If this guy could conduct a bit of logical thinking now, it would already be a great victory.

Murphy’s eyes had turned crimson red.

Even under daylight, the eerie red glow pierced through from the Shadow Cloak covering him. Without utilizing Crimson Ability, he was enshrouded in thick blood energy; this "Crimson Fury" state appeared only when Bloodthirsty was pushed to its limit.

In the past, Murphy often restrained his blood-feeding desire, but now he chose to completely unleash the shackles.

Allowing the life perception upon which vampires depended to replace his eyes and senses to pick out the easiest target, his body each movement efficient and frighteningly carried by this instinct to break the enemy.

"Murphy! Get a grip!"

In the sky, the blinding lightning spear crushed meteors as Triss glanced downward, worried seeing Murphy’s current state.

Murphy’s silver trial had reached its third day; his potential had burned to its peak. If unable to achieve the intricate Ancestor’s Power fusion breakthrough in the coming hours, his Spiritual Energy would rapidly decline, culminating in a failed promotion.

This was definitely not what Murphy wanted to experience.

But the problem was, this vampire now in such a state that even Triss’s heart perception using Desire Ability found it difficult to converse with him; slightly more forceful probing of Murphy’s Spirit elicited his counterattack.

Although with the blood-shadowed Solar Blade striking towards Triss, Murphy quickly suppressed his retaliatory impulse when he regained consciousness, yet it indicated his aggressive desires were becoming uncontrollably amplified.

This was very dangerous.

Even though the main principle of the silver trial was to dig towards the strongest blood origin for power, speaking frankly, being too much of an atavism isn’t necessarily beneficial.