My Three Beautiful Vampire Wives can hear my Inner Thoughts-Chapter 92: Overgod’s Blood Mana

As soon as the question formed clearly in Cain’s mind—

Can she read my thoughts—

Cornelia’s pupils shrank.

It was just a single move. So subtle that no one else in the hall would have noticed. Her lips did not move. Her breathing did not change. She even tilted her head slightly, as if confused by the lingering excitement in the room.

But Cain saw it.

He saw the small tremor in her eyelashes. The faint tightening of her fingers at her side. The way her gaze held his just a heartbeat too long before she forced it to soften.

She is startled.

She tried to mask it. She even smiled faintly, as though still basking in the clan’s admiration. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked lightly, her voice smooth. "Did I scare you?"

Cain did not answer.

For a long time he didn’t.

He was just staring at her.

Suddenly, he slowly spread his arms outward.

The motion was lazy. Casual. Almost theatrical.

A few vampires were still cheering, still whispering about High Blood Pressure, still laughing in disbelief.

None of them noticed the faint change in the air.

Cain lowered his chin slightly.

Under his breath, barely audible, he mumbled, "Blood flowers."

At first, nothing happened.

The hall remained bright. The chandeliers glittered. The marble floor reflected light.

Then, from the cracks between the tiles, a thin red line appeared.

It looked like a vein under the skin.

No one reacted.

The line thickened.

From the base of a pillar near the back of the hall, a small bud pushed outward, splitting stone as though it were soft soil. It was dark crimson, almost black at the edges.

Another bud emerged from the wall behind an ancestor’s seat.

Then another from the ceiling.

They grew silently.

Petals unfolded slowly, each one slick and glossy, like fresh blood hardened into silk. The scent in the air changed, turning metallic and heavy.

A blood knight near the entrance blinked. "Do you... smell something?"

"Hm?" his companion sniffed the air. "It smells like iron."

More buds appeared.

From the walls.

From the floors.

From the very pillars holding up the hall.

They bloomed one by one, hundreds of them, until the grand chamber was decorated with strange, beautiful, crimson flowers that seemed to breathe softly.

Still, most vampires did not understand what they were seeing.

"Was this always here?" someone asked.

"No..."

"They’re... pretty," a young vampire muttered.

Cornelia’s eyes widened slightly.

She could feel it.

The blood mana filling the room was changing.

It was no longer just heavy.

It was suffocating.

Cain’s voice came again, still soft.

"Bloom."

The flowers trembled.

Then, one by one—

They bled.

Thick drops of dark red liquid slid down their petals and dripped onto the marble.

The sound was faint at first.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Then the drops became streams.

The hall began to echo with the sound of blood hitting stone.

"What is this?"

"Is this... a technique?"

"Who is doing this?"

A vampire turned slowly toward Cain.

Before he could speak—

Cain whispered again.

"Blood spore."

The flowers exploded.

Not violently. Not with force.

But with a sudden outward burst of crimson mist that poured from their centers like breath released after centuries of holding it in.

The mist was fine. Almost beautiful.

It sparkled faintly under the chandelier light.

Then it spread.

Fast.

Too fast.

The vampires inhaled before they could even think to hold their breath.

A young blood servant blinked once. Twice.

His eyelids grew heavy.

"Why... am I..."

He collapsed.

Another blood knight staggered backward. "My limbs... they feel numb..."

He fell.

One by one, bodies hit the floor.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Panic immediately erupted.

"Hold your breath!"

"Circulate your blood energy!"

"Seal your senses!"

But it was too late.

The mist entered through pores. Through skin. Through blood itself.

A blood condensation mana user roared, veins bulging as he forced his energy outward. "I will not fall!"

His roar faded into a yawn.

He crumpled.

Within moments, dozens lay sleeping across the hall, their chests rising slowly, faces peaceful, as though caught in deep dreams.

The ancestors reacted faster.

Ghurn slammed his palm onto the armrest and stood up fully despite the lingering heaviness in the air. "This is an attack!" he shouted.

Another ancestor’s eyes flared crimson. "Activate blood barriers!"

They moved together.

The first ancestor raised both hands, chanting under his breath.

A dome of condensed blood energy formed around him, swirling like liquid armor.

The mist touched it.

The barrier hissed.

He gritted his teeth. "It corrodes..."

A second ancestor stepped forward. "I will burn it away!"

He slashed his hand through the air, summoning a wave of boiling blood flames that surged outward, trying to incinerate the mist.

The flames swallowed several flowers.

For a brief moment, hope flickered.

Then the flames dimmed.

The mist slipped through.

The second ancestor swayed. "Impossible..."

A third ancestor bit his wrist and flung droplets of his own blood into the air, forming dozens of sharp crimson spears that shot toward Cain.

They froze midair.

Then fell harmlessly to the ground.

"How—"

A fourth ancestor joined, drawing a complex sigil with his finger. The sigil glowed brightly, pushing the mist back a few steps.

"Together!" Ghurn roared.

All ten ancestors activated their spells.

Blood barriers.

Blood flames.

Blood spears.

Blood chains.

The hall was filled with glowing crimson techniques, each powerful enough to crush mountains in ordinary battles.

But in front of Cain—

They were nothing.

The mist thickened.

Their barriers cracked.

One ancestor coughed, his eyes losing focus.

"Do not... let your guard..."

He slumped forward.

Another tried to grab him.

His own hands went limp.

One by one, the elders fell.

Even Ghurn.

He was the last to stand.

His body trembled violently as he forced his blood foundation to its peak, veins glowing, eyes blazing with pride and rage.

"Who... was doing this to us...?" he demanded hoarsely.

Cain did not answer.

Ghurn’s vision blurred.

His knees buckled.

He fell.

Silence.

The grand hall of the Moonshade family was now covered with sleeping bodies.

Blood servants.

Blood knights.

Vanguard blood knights.

Ancestors.

All breathing softly.

All helpless.

Only two figures remained standing.

Cain.

And Cornelia.

Cain’s expression was no longer playful.

His eyes were deep. Cold. Ancient.

The blood mana around him rolled like a storm contained within a single body.

Cornelia felt it pressing against her skin, against her bones, against her very soul.

This... this is not normal.

She had never felt such blood mana.

Not from the Crimson Blood King when she visited there.

Not from any ancestor.

It was suffocating.

It was vast.

It felt endless.

Her legs began to shake.

Instinct screamed at her.

Do not move.

Do not anger him.

Or you will die.

Cain stepped forward slowly.

Each step echoed in the silent hall.

"My wife," he said.

His voice was no longer casual.

It was ethereal.

Layered.

As though multiple tones spoke at once, some near, some impossibly far away.

Cornelia’s breath hitched.

"My beloved Cornelia," he continued softly.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

"Tell me," Cain said, his eyes locking onto hers, "you can hear my thoughts, right?"

Her lips parted.

No sound came out.

She wanted to deny it.

She wanted to lie.

But her mind was in chaos.

And that was enough.

Cain’s eyes darkened further.

She can.

She absolutely can.

And if she can—

Then Ivira can too.

And if Ivira can—

Then their younger sister will eventually hear him as well.

His stomach twisted.

"Fuck," he muttered.

The word echoed unnaturally.

The walls trembled.

"Fuck."

The chandeliers flickered violently.

"Fuck!"

The entire Moonshade territory outside the blood tower darkened.

The sky turned deep red, as though soaked in fresh blood.

Grass across the estate shifted color, turning dark crimson.

Blood servants walking along corridors froze midstep, their hearts racing with sudden terror.

"What is this feeling..."

"I cannot move..."

Blood knights training in the courtyard dropped their weapons, their hands shaking.

Even the Vanguard Blood Knights, elite warriors who had faced battlefields and emperors, felt their knees weaken.

An unknown, overwhelming fear pressed down on them.

Not pain.

Not physical pressure.

But something primal.

Run.

Hide.

Kneel.

They did not dare move.

Miles away, Ivira rode her horse swiftly along the road leading toward the Moonshade lands. Her short white hair fluttered behind her, her posture straight and confident.

Behind her, Rivik, her father followed at steady pace.

"We confirmed it," Rivik was saying. "Two emperors severely injured. The attacker’s blood techniques were unlike anything recorded."

Ivira’s expression was calm. "I have a guess who it was."

Before Rivik could ask— 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

They both stiffened.

The air changed.

A wave of blood mana swept across the land.

Rivik’s eyes widened. "What... is that?"

His voice trembled despite himself.

"Such terrifying blood mana," he whispered. "Even the Crimson Blood King’s aura would seem like a child’s toy compared to this."

Ivira’s heart dropped.

Don’t tell me...

Her mind flashed with images.

Cornelia.

Cain.

She swallowed hard. "Father... it might be coming from our territory."

Rivik stared at her. "What?"

But Ivira had already slapped the horse hard.

"Go!"

The horse surged forward at full speed.

Back in the blood tower, the world in Cornelia’s vision had turned dark red.

Everything was bathed in that color.

Cain stood before her like a shadow carved from ancient blood.

He suddenly stopped.

The oppressive aura settled slightly.

He looked at her carefully.

"I know now," he said quietly.

Cornelia’s body trembled uncontrollably.

"I know now," he repeated.

Her throat tightened.

"Why you can read my mind."