CHAPTER 70: CHAPTER 70

For a while, not a single soul dared take a sip. The awkward tension lingered in the air. Lord Blood sat calmly, aloof and indifferent, as if he couldn’t care less.

A fairly well-known hooded figure glanced around, trying to see if anyone had already drunk from their glass. But so far, no one had.

Just when it seemed the silence would stretch on forever, someone suddenly raised a trembling hand and spoke in a shaky voice:

"Lord Blood... may I be excused? I... I can’t do this. I’m not used to drinking blood or... anything like this..."

His voice quivered, barely hiding his revulsion. But Lord Blood didn’t even lift his head. He simply waved his hand casually—

And the man’s head was instantly severed from his body.

Everyone around him froze in terror.

"Did you all think this was a child’s game?" Lord Blood said, finally lifting his gaze. "Did you forget that every action has a price... and every mistake has consequences?"

He scanned the room with a knowing, almost amused smile.

The people caught in his gaze swallowed nervously.

Gulp.

The sounds of dry throats and tightening fear filled the silence as his piercing eyes swept over them.

"Very well," Lord Blood said smoothly. "Now do what I told you. Quickly.

Or don’t blame me when I stop being gentle."

The smile never left his lips—

But his eyes told a far more violent story.

The crowd felt the threat in his words. One by one, they began to drink the red liquid, most with visible reluctance.

The hooded figure—known to a few—watched in discomfort. But he didn’t dare show it. Not when he might be the next target of Lord Blood’s wrath.

Gradually, more people forced themselves to drink. Soon, only a small group remained untouched.

Seeing this, the hooded figure began to panic. He still hadn’t taken his sip, and now feared being the last. An internal struggle raged within him—should he drink it or not?

After wrestling with the decision for too long, he finally gave in, seeing that only about a dozen others remained.

As the liquid slid down his throat, an intense, bizarre taste hit him. Metallic. Sour. Faintly sweet—like fake wine soaked in blood.

Remembering how "blood wine" was made, he almost gagged. But somehow, he kept it down, suppressing the urge to vomit.

With great effort, he drained the glass... and collapsed to the floor, mentally shattered.

When he looked up again, he saw that a few people still hadn’t touched their glasses.

He thought grimly, Poor bastards. They’re screwed.

And sure enough—just seconds later, the same thing happened again. One by one, those who hadn’t drunk the blood collapsed, their heads cleanly severed from their shoulders.

The hooded figure exhaled in relief. He had narrowly escaped death.

But his relief was short-lived.

A sudden, searing pain erupted in his stomach—like fire burning from the inside out.

As he clutched his gut in agony, the burning spread—growing stronger, hotter, fiercer.

Then, red veins began to surface beneath his skin.

"ARGHHHHH!" he screamed, his body convulsing as if electrocuted. Everyone nearby recoiled in horror.

He collapsed to the floor, writhing. His body was transforming grotesquely. His canines elongated. His skin turned pale. His pupils morphed into vertical slits glowing blood-red. His arms twisted—reddish, monstrous flesh creeping down to his hands.

The violent movement caused his hood to slip, revealing part of his face in profile.

If Clayton had been there, he would’ve recognized him instantly: Rodent.

But in the dim lighting, and with his face contorted in agony, no one recognized him.

Lord Blood looked down at the writhing Rodent with interest.

"My, my... I didn’t expect this. Among all these rats, there’s one truly fascinating toy."

...

The Next Morning

Clayton was back in his fields, hard at work. He had come home late the night before and crashed straight into bed—without unpacking any of his new purchases.

After tidying up his farmland, Clayton began placing nets around his wheat—assisted by his mini skeletons.

Then he installed the basic security formation he had bought earlier. Thanks to the included instruction manual, he had it set up in under an hour.

Once everything was in place, Clayton felt satisfied.

It wasn’t foolproof, but at least it would alert him if anyone tampered with his property.

After resting, he returned to work the next day, ready to plant the rune grass inside his Entry space.

He left one skeleton inside as a lookout, then carefully planted the seeds himself.

The job took a full day—but with teamwork, it was done.

The next day, he was back to farming as usual. Days passed, and all the skills tied to the [Divine Experience Bar] had now reached Level 2.

Even better—his sorghum was ready for harvest.

Excited, Clayton rushed to gather the grain—about three kilograms in total. It wasn’t much, but the quality was far better than his previous batch. He was certain it would help with his advancement as a knight.

As he was about to dry and process the sorghum, he noticed someone passing by.

It was Rodent.

Clayton frowned. Why do I feel so uneasy around him?

Rodent walked past, acting indifferent. Clayton narrowed his eyes, watching him go. Then, a realization struck him.

Wait... I smell blood. Don’t tell me... is he one of the Blood Raiders Arthur mentioned?

He considered how he might use this information—

But the smell suddenly intensified.

He waved his hand to clear the air.

Did I get it wrong? Maybe it’s not Rodent—maybe it’s someone else?

But as he tried to trace the source, he was shocked to realize—

The smell was coming from himself.

"Damn it! How stupid can I be? I’m holding blood sorghum that I just harvested! No wonder it reeks!"

Embarrassed, he let out a heavy sigh and returned to work.

...

Days Passed

Then finally—wheat harvest season arrived.

Clayton and his fellow land renters were full of energy, eager to reap the results of their hard work.

But, as always, disaster struck without warning.

A group of people spotted thick, black clouds rolling in fast over the horizon.

The veteran farmers recognized the threat instantly.

"Shit! Locusts!"

"Just when I thought this harvest was gonna be great... something like this has to happen!"

"Dammit! Dammit! DAMMIT!"

Panic and shouting erupted across the fields. Farmers scrambled, desperately trying to save whatever crops they could—before the swarm descended.