Chapter 124: The Count's Ancient Castle

Cletus struggled to compose himself; a man like him feared death above all else.

"What exactly do you want?"

"What do I want?" Michael lifted Cletus by the collar and said, "You should take a look at what you’ve actually done."

A wave of terror washed over Cletus. He dared not meet Michael's eyes, desperately scrambling backward. Michael continued, "The women in the basement—you’ve been keeping them as livestock, haven't you?"

Cletus immediately tried to justify his actions. "We had no choice! We just wanted to survive; we need food, too." He knew that if he couldn't persuade Michael, he would surely die today. "There was simply no other way. We are vampires; our food is human blood."

Michael couldn't help but chuckle, though his expression instantly turned cold. "No choice? A fine 'no choice' indeed. Let’s go see exactly how you were forced into this."

Michael dragged Cletus to the basement. It was unlike any ordinary cellar; it was incredibly spacious and brightly lit, decorated with a garish, nouveau-riche opulence. It featured several rooms equipped with various recreational facilities, including ping-pong tables, billiards, skateboards, arcade cabinets, claw machines, and a mahjong room.

In the center of the basement stood a cage. Inside were women who had likely been captured recently. They were locked up like dogs, their expressions gaunt, their eyes dull. The other women present drank red wine as if no one were watching, entirely indifferent to their own nudity. Occasionally, a few wore scraps of fabric, but they were little more than thongs that covered nothing at all.

"You really were 'helpless,' weren't you?" Michael tossed him onto the floor.

Cletus offered an awkward smile, at a loss for words. If this was considered "helplessness," then what of those vampires who refused to consume human blood?

The women didn't panic at the sight of Cletus’s pathetic state; instead, they watched Michael with keen interest. Everyone who came here was their master, and they had long ago learned to serve whoever was in charge without question. A blonde woman with blue eyes walked over, attempting to drape her hands over Michael’s shoulders, but Michael showed no appreciation, gripping her wrist firmly. The woman winced in pain, yet her tone remained devoid of any impatience.

"Noble sir, please, bestow your favor upon me." She knelt down, reaching for Michael’s belt.

Michael picked her up and tossed her onto a nearby sofa. She stood right back up, showing no sign of injury. Other women bore whip marks and burn scars, all of which only served to highlight the crimes of these vampires—these creatures were utterly repulsive. A few women, likely drugged, lay on the floor rolling their eyes and trembling. Seeing that Michael remained unmoved, many began to pose seductively, shedding what little clothing they had left.

"You people certainly know how to play." Michael cast a disgusted glance at Cletus. This group was truly vile, pure sociopaths. Damn it, it was making him physically ill. He meant he wanted to vomit—definitely nothing else.

Cletus offered an awkward, nervous smile. Other women crowded around, trying to curry favor with Michael, but he didn't hesitate, using telekinesis to throw them aside.

The girls in the cage, seeing that Michael was different, seemed to grasp a flicker of hope. They crawled to the edge of the cage and pleaded, "Are you here to save us? Please, save us!"

Those bastards had kept them in the center of the hall, forcing them to eat, sleep, and defecate in full view to break down their sense of shame and psychological defenses. They even deliberately withheld food to force the women to perform humiliating acts for sustenance. If Michael hadn't come, they didn't know how much longer they could have held on.

Michael walked over, pried the iron cage open, and stepped inside. The girls hadn't bathed in a long time and inevitably had a scent about them, but Michael felt no disdain. He snapped their chains and said, "Don't leave. The police will be here shortly."

"Okay," the girls nodded obediently. Michael had already notified George, and knowing George's temperament, he would surely arrive soon.

Michael looked back to see that Cletus had seized the opportunity to escape, leaving behind a room full of chaos. Michael wasn't worried; he had intentionally let the man go. If he hadn't let him flee, how would Michael have found the mastermind behind it all?

Michael reached a section of the ground and stared at a sewer manhole cover painted to match the floor perfectly. He could only marvel at how incredibly developed New York's sewer system truly was. No matter what crime was committed, crawling into the sewers was always the easiest way to escape. He followed, tracking Cletus along the way.

Cletus felt a surge of relief. It was a good thing he was quick-witted, or he would have been a dead man. As long as he reached the Count, he would be safe. Although he had to offer up women to the Count every year, the Count truly provided them with protection.

Soon, he reached a shaft. The manhole cover was so old that its original builder had likely been forgotten, but Cletus hadn't—he had been here many times before. He opened the cover and climbed out, finding himself before a mysterious ancient castle. This was the Count’s fortress. It was said that while the Count had to pay the government maintenance fees every year, he could more than afford it. He was not only a vampire Count but also a politician with vast family holdings. To outsiders, the castle was known only through mysterious legends—tales of it consuming people or being haunted by eerie shadows—which only added to its mystique.

Michael followed, emerging onto the surface in an instant.

"Is this the place?"

Hearing those words, Cletus was seized by absolute terror. How could this be? He was certain he hadn't been followed, but he had no way of knowing that Michael’s echolocation could monitor the entire city.

With an elegant wave of his hand, Michael sent Cletus flying with telekinesis. Another wave sent a barrage of stones crashing into him, crushing him into a pulp. Satisfied that Cletus was dead, Michael walked toward the castle.

How ironic. Inside the city were the Sanctums of the Sorcerers, and outside lay the ancient castle of the vampires; the two existed in a vague, balanced state of coexistence.

As soon as Michael pushed open the castle doors, he frowned. It felt as though no one had set foot here in centuries; the tables were thick with dust, and spiderwebs hung everywhere. Michael waved his hand gently, releasing the Winds of Watoomb to blow away the grime and webs. The layout appeared to be a grand hall, but were those angels carved into the walls actually serious?

Michael observed for a moment and finally understood: this was a disguise. In reality, there was space magic at work here; the vampires must be hiding within it.

*Too hasty,* he thought. *I should have interrogated him.*

What was the password to open the door? Surely it couldn't be "Open Sesame."