As an ancient city with a history of more than 1,000 years, and a city where the Holy See has been entrenched for thousands of years, the City of the Prophets has secrets that ordinary people cannot imagine.

The Secret Passage is by no means surprising, and although few people have ever fought against it in history, it is not surprising that the Pope, who has experienced the scourge of war, has left himself with a way out.

When the entire City of the Prophets is filled with believers and spies, these passages need to be activated to avoid some vision.

In the underground passages of the City of the Prophets, six members of the Papal Escort walked through it.

Two of them carried a stretcher covered with a white cloth, on which it was faintly visible that there was a corpse.

Freud carried the back of the stretcher and strode along, he didn't really like today's task, because carrying a dead man always gave him a strange feeling.

And the smell of decay on the stretcher was really terrible, like a sickening feeling like a shriveled bat carcass.

I don't know if it was because the smell made him gause, but Freud felt as if he was hallucinating.

He always felt that the corpse on the stretcher was shaking in front of him breathing slightly, but whenever he looked closely, he found that there was no movement.

After looking at it for a long time, he withdrew his gaze and stopped making this boring observation.

Vlad III, known as "Count Dracula", lay quietly on a stretcher, shaking as the two men walked in front and behind.

He greedily sucked in the breath of the living in the air, and felt the red, hot blood pulsating in the darkness in his surrounding body.

But the only reason in his brain suppressed his desire to suck blood.

Weak.

Very weak.

The incomparable weakness even suppressed his memories of memory, and only vague fragments of images flashed in his mind from time to time.

He could feel the magnificent prayers of millions of people above the ground, which he once seemed to have participated in, but now there was only a subconscious disgust in his heart.

That's false.

They lied to me.

Vlad III could feel the anger in his heart, as if he had seen his best comrade betray him.

It was an irrepressible rage.

Wait.

He suppressed his anger, a nameless fire, for he himself didn't know who he really was.

Vlad III now has only one thought, to wait until a man is alone, to drink blood.

Now too weak, he only has one chance, wait for a secluded corner, and launch an attack.

In the dimly lit tunnels, the six popes' guards walked silently.

The sound of their footsteps echoed in a rhythmic rhythm through the narrow aisles.

It took them nearly two hours to walk out of a house in the far side of the City of the Prophets, bypassing the believers in the City of the Prophets.

There are too many believers out there, and they can't go out in the clothes of the Papal Guard, or they will attract too much attention.

After changing their clothes, the group of five people went out to understand the situation first, and after finding out the situation outside, they could study how to bring Freud to the head of scientific research of the Holy See.

The group left only Floyd in place to guard Vlad III's body.

There would have been nothing wrong with that, but only if Vlad III was really dead.

In the retro European-style cottage, Freud always felt that there was someone in the house watching him.

Not only did he feel, but he could even feel that the man had a crazy covet for him.

Freud was stared at like crazy.

It feels like a psychopathic murderer staring at him, even though he's in the house, but you don't know where he is.

Is it this corpse?

Freud stared at the corpse from afar.

This house is this corpse except him.

And he already felt that something was wrong with this corpse.

He stepped forward and gently lifted the white cloth that covered the dried corpse.

The dried corpse lay quietly under the white cloth.

But as the white cloth was lifted, the feeling of being coveted intensified.

Blood!

Appetite!

Slaughter!

The endless senses drove Freud crazy.

"Stand up, brother, I know you're staring at me, you know? I've been watching you for a long time. ”

Floyd finally couldn't hold back the maddening feeling, and he jerked to his feet and yelled at the corpse.

But the dry corpse didn't react at all, and it still stayed quietly on the original stretcher.

Floyd stared at the dried corpse in front of him, and the feeling became clearer and clearer, it was this damn dried corpse.

Definitely this goddamn dry corpse.

Floyd said silently in his heart.

Suddenly, he pulled out a baseball bat from the closet beside him.

"Since you're not up, try the taste of this baseball bat. ”

Floyd held the baseball in his hand to his side.

But the corpse still didn't move.

Floyd slowly approached the dried corpse, and the feeling of being coveted grew stronger.

Greedy!

Slaughter!

Appetite!

These feelings are mixed together.

"Ahh

A roar came from Freud's mouth, he couldn't stand it, and the feeling of being targeted made it feel like he was going crazy.

Floyd swung his baseball bat as he was next to the corpse.

He slammed a stick into Vlad III's right side of the face, smashing a hole in the right side of his face with great force.

The corpse's entire head was crooked by the stick.

After a burst of applause, the feeling of covetousness disappeared in an instant.

Hallucination?

Or something else?

Floyd suddenly seemed to wake up from his confusion, and he suddenly realized that he had done something wrong.

This is something that the Pope has ordered, how can he damage it?

Looking at the dried corpse, half of its face was completely shattered and its head was crooked, and Freud had only one thought, and he hurried to restore it before everyone returned.

He scrambled to straighten the head of the dried corpse.

But after he stepped forward.

The corpse moved, and his body jerked forward, and his sharp teeth stabbed into Floyd's neck.

"Ahh

Floyd cried out in pain, reaching out to remove the dried corpse from his neck.

But the head seemed to have roots in his neck.

"Goo, goo, goo......"

It was the sound of drinking blood.

Soon Floyd's voice gradually became inaudible.

And his countenance gradually dried up.

As the blood flowed into his body, Vlad III's corpse-like body gradually began to regain its sense of life.

His skin began to smooth, and the bark-like skin began to gradually become moisturized and firm.

The large hole on the right cheek of the face also healed quickly.

But until Freud was completely turned into a dry corpse, Vlad III only went from a dry corpse to a corpse that had not been dead for more than a month.

His skin was covered in dark cyan corpse spots, and there were parts of his face that were not covered by skin.

It's a little worse.

Vlad III stopped.

He looked at his hands and then at himself in front of the mirror.

Then he changed his clothes with those of Freud, who had become a dried corpse.

Floyd was then placed on the stretcher on which he had just been lying.

Looking at himself in the mirror, a hoarse voice sounded from Vlad's mouth:

"I'm back!"

It was a proclamation, a proclamation of return.

With six hundred years of darkness in his memory.