Free Web NovelChapter 355: Chapter 346: What’s Going On? Why Has the Moon Turned Blood-Red?
"You Werewolves are just as crude as ever."
"But the feud between our Blood Race and your Werewolf Clan is an ancient one.
Over thousands of years, how many members of the Blood Race have died at the hands of your Werewolf Clan?
Now, the time for a final reckoning has come."
The Vampire Princes showed no fear on their faces.
Though they still maintained their elegant smiles, a cold, murderous intent now lurked within them.
"What’s going on? Why has the moon turned blood-red?"
Suddenly, a young member of the Werewolf Clan looked up at the sky.
The moon hanging high in the sky had been like a giant silver platter,
quietly bathing the land in its cold, silver glow, turning everything a stark white,
so bright it was almost eerie, twinkling with unspoken secrets.
However, this cold serenity did not last.
At some point, the color of the land began to silently shift, from silver-white to a heart-stopping blood-red.
This blood-red hue came not from the ground, but rained down from the sky, covering everything.
The mountains and forests, the trees, the lawns, the flowers—
even the magnificent and luxurious grand manor—were all coated in a layer of eerie, crimson frost.
This layer of crimson frost was neither the gentle touch of dawn nor the melancholic glow of dusk,
but a deep, rich, all-consuming crimson that sent a chill to the bone.
The moon had now completely transformed into a blood moon,
as if filled with endless blood, radiating an ominous light.
Its surface seemed to ripple with some unknown power,
making it impossible to look at directly. One could only feel the fear and awe rising from the depths of their soul.
One by one, the members of the Werewolf Clan raised their heads. Their gazes pierced the layers of night, locking onto the blood moon.
Their eyes held surprise, confusion, and most of all, shock.
In that moment, the entire world fell into a strange silence,
as the crimson moonlight silently streamed down, blanketing everything.
Stranger still, when the Werewolves tried to catch the scent of the moonlight,
they caught the increasingly strong and pungent stench of blood.
The scent belonged neither to the earth nor the sky,
but seemed like a call from another world—frightening, yet irresistible.
The Werewolves exchanged glances, their eyes flickering with shared confusion and unease.
They began to wonder if any of this was real,
or merely a hallucination brought on by extreme stress.
On this land, shrouded by the crimson moonlight, every inch of space was filled with an eerie disquiet.
The entire world had lost its balance, awaiting an unknown judgment.
"You Vampire Clan, still pulling the same old tricks. How dull.
Always with the flashy, useless displays.
The Vampire Clan has truly regressed. You’re destined for extinction.
You shouldn’t even exist in this world anymore.
Today, the Werewolf Clan will be the ones to end you completely.
Every single one of you ugly creatures from the Vampire Clan should feel honored,
because this honor is a gift from the Werewolf Clan."
Florian’s roar gradually dispelled the panic in the hearts of some members of the Werewolf Clan.
Many of the Werewolf Clan members present for today’s battle were new to large-scale slaughter,
and the Vampire Clan had a penchant for creating phantom displays at the start of a battle.
Before everyone’s eyes, Florian, the burly giant with a massive, powerful frame,
began a jaw-dropping transformation.
As members of both the Vampire and Werewolf Clans watched, his body—as if driven by some mysterious, invisible force—
slowly began to expand and twist. The process
was like a stunning natural wonder, every subtle change capturing the attention of all who watched.
Finally, he transformed into a brute of a man, standing nearly seven feet tall, proud as an iron tower.
The man’s face had classic Western features, resolute and profound,
as if meticulously sculpted by the chisel of time.
His long, slightly curled black hair was like satin in the night,
falling casually over his broad, bare shoulders,
adding a touch of untamed wildness to his appearance.
His physique was undoubtedly nature’s finest masterpiece.
It was as if every muscle had been meticulously sculpted, one by one,
by the world’s greatest craftsman.
The muscles were flawless, exuding a faint metallic sheen.
Every inch of him contained immeasurable power and resilience.
Florian wore only a pair of shorts, standing barefoot,
yet he still radiated an unparalleled, oppressive aura.
The very ground trembled at his presence, and the air grew heavy, unable to bear his powerful aura.
What was more striking was that his handsome face still held the faint traces of a wolf.
It was a strange kind of beauty, a blend of human and bestial features,
possessing both human intelligence and depth, as well as a beast’s wild, untamed nature.
His eyes, like flames in the abyss, were scorching and dangerous, ready to incinerate any obstacle in his path.
Bathed in the light of the blood moon, Florian’s figure was especially striking.
