?Mobile reading Isabel sensed Federle, and Federle, in turn, sensed her presence. Eight Zero E-book Thus, the vampire lineage, like cultivators, stands at an unbridgeable level—those of higher rank enjoy various advantages. Federle found himself puzzled. According to the records, Qin Feng was merely a killer trained on Death Island; how could there be any vampires among his circle? This made him naturally cautious, and he had to adjust his original plan accordingly. Initially, he believed that as soon as he pinpointed Qin Feng’s location, he would move directly to eliminate the threat at once. Boom… An explosion rang out at the hotel, shattering the water fountain sculpture in the garden into fragments, with flying stones breaking numerous windows. Guests rushed toward the exits—after such an explosion, it was clearly a terrorist attack. Would they have to stay and face certain death? The police also received reports stating that the hotel was housing a highly radioactive bomb, with radiation affecting an area as far as 500 meters around. Now, no one dared to approach the site. After all, it was a small nation in South America, where even its police and military bomb experts struggled to handle moderately complex bombs—let alone a "dirty bomb" emitting radiation. Some skeptics brought high-end equipment, and indeed, a strong radiation source was detected as far out as one kilometer away. Panic ensued—everyone stayed away, and the country had to seek help from neighboring nations, requesting chemical and biological defense units to address the crisis. Watching the crowd of onlookers and police gathered at the one-kilometer perimeter, Isabel tapped Qin Feng on the head and asked, "How did you come up with this idea?" "Qin Dashi touched the spot where he had been hit and replied, 'It's simple—just place a depleted uranium penetrator missile at the hotel, and set up a few signal amplifiers nearby. The other side will definitely detect the radiation source. I'm doing this out of good intentions—so as not to accidentally affect everyone when the fighting starts!' 'Well, you're a good person. That's that.' The beautiful officer turned and walked away, intending to hide and wait for the enemy's appearance. He had just taken a step when a violent explosion erupted beneath his feet, boom! Though he desperately tried to dodge, the surge of air sent him sprawling, landing face-down with a most unimpressive dignity. In a room some distance away, Qin Feng stood by the window, pursing his lips and remarked, "The luck just isn't good today. I'd only installed a single bomb, and now you've stepped right on it. If you don't go buy lottery tickets, you're simply not doing anyone any favors!" When... Federer, wielding a floral sword, effortlessly deflected the steel blade, raised his head with a look of curiosity and murmured, "A cultivator—indeed, a Chinese cultivator!" I wonder, though, if cultivators and the House of Blood have some deep-seated grudge. How come they instantly recognize my profession? Qin Feng couldn't quite figure it out. As for grudges, there truly are some. When the great powers used their powerful ships and cannons to open the gates of the Chinese realm, the House of Blood was among those accompanying them. The cultivators, indifferent to worldly affairs, paid no attention to the great powers' mistreatment of the Chinese people. Yet the House of Blood, as a foreign power, could not allow these vampire bats to dominate freely under their very eyes. Thus, a great battle ensued. The cultivators, enjoying home-field advantages, achieved a decisive victory, while the House of Blood suffered heavy losses. Since then, the House of Blood has dared to tread upon Chinese soil no more—and thus, a lasting enmity has been forged between them. This grudge has been passed down through the generations—after all, Qin Feng wasn't trained formally. He knows absolutely nothing about the well-told tales in the cultivation world. He launched himself out the window, foot on his flying sword, asking, "What's your name, the one below?" "You traitor! You're not worthy of knowing my name," Federer spread his arms, black membranous wings unfolding behind him, then propelled himself skyward with a powerful kick—exactly like a large black bat. Only bloodline members capable of growing such membranous wings can receive noble titles; the wings themselves are a symbol of nobility. "Fine. If you won't tell me, I don't even care." He flipped his hand, and four fiery dragons surged toward the enemy. Federer darted aside, his massive wings agile and graceful, easily evading the dragon attacks. But this was merely a feint. Qin, the young lord, simply exhaled two words: "Ice spikes!" Swoosh... Swoosh... Two ice spears, each over a meter long, plummeted from the sky. One struck Federle in the back, shattering into fragments, while the other pierced through the membrane wing on his right side. "Chinese people," Federle said, his voice steady, "their craftsmanship may be impressive, but it won't harm me." As he spoke, three-inch-long fangs erupted from his mouth. "I've never tasted the blood of a cultivator before," he added, "and I'm certain it must be quite nourishing!" With that, he charged straight at Qin Feng, moving with such speed it was astonishing. Qin Feng launched a flying sword, but Federle knocked it aside with a single punch and then bit down on his neck with a wide, open maw. Man, am I not only unable to fight but also to evade? Federle vanished in a flash, and his deadly attack fell short. A white figure surged upward, then suddenly descended, plunging a dagger with a glint of frost into Federle's back. Federle cried out, and then waved his arms to push away the successful ambusher, Isabella. He was breathing heavily, speaking sharply, "Since you're also of the bloodline, why are you opposing me? What is your relationship with Qin Feng? I never thought it possible that a bloodline member would have to collaborate with cultivators—what a joke!" The female instructor countered firmly, "Who I serve is my own choice—does that have any connection to you? I'll tell you the truth: my dagger is named Sarahville, and it carries a potent toxin!" The white pus seeping from the wound on Federer's back confirmed her words. Yet he smiled, saying, "A mere dose of poison, and you expect me to die? Are you dreaming? Bloodline nobles possess strong self-healing abilities. As a regular bloodline member, you likely don't know this!"