"It's... This...... This..."Locke was stunned by the magical scene in front of him, he stammered when he spoke, the dagger in his hand trembled, and the feeling of sharp thorns made Benson's face extremely ugly, and he scolded wildly in his heart: "The god of immortality, his whole family, killing people is not enough, are you so tormenting?"

"Lord, master. You... Do you feel better?" Locke was excited, trembling all over, and he asked in a low voice, as if he was afraid that if he was a little louder, he would directly burp Butian.

Rolling his eyes, Bu Tian glanced at Benson, who was picked up in Locke's hands, and a faint and hoarse voice came out of his mouth: "Locke, bring this damn guy to me, see... See the fangs in my mouth?"

With every word he uttered, he felt as if a fire was burning in his throat, and it was accompanied by an increasingly suffocating sensation, as if a flame had consumed all the oxygen in the bottle.

"Yes, master, I see it. Locke had a lot of doubts in his heart at this time, and he looked at Butian's extremely sharp fangs, which was also a point of confusion for him. However, Locke knew that it was not the time to ask, so he suppressed all his curiosity in his heart.

"Aim this guy's neck, at my fangs... I bled too much. I need to suck his blood. Talent... Rapid recovery. ”

Bu Tian said intermittently, the burning pain in his lungs, which was the feeling that the oxygen was about to run out, but he didn't dare to breathe heavily, for fear of causing the wound to burst.

After listening to his master's strange request, Locke was a little stunned, what kind of healing method is this?

Benson was chilling in his heart, he already felt that this kid named Brent was a little weird, and at this moment he heard the other party actually say that he wanted to suck his blood, this creepy and strange request made Benson's body tremble with fear, and half of the face under the metal mask was bloodless.

He is not afraid of death, and if he is seriously injured to the point that he has already stepped into the arms of death with half a foot, he will die sooner or later. But dying in such a strange way, being sucked dry of blood, was hard for him to accept no matter what.

Locke came back to his senses, and although he was very puzzled by Butian's order, he still complied.

He lifted Benson's body, ignoring Benson's weak struggle and the fear on his face, and slowly aimed his neck at Butian's slightly open mouth, where there was a pair of fangs like wolfdogs.

Benson was terrified, his whole body was resisting, his mouth cursing as hard as he could, his spitting stars mixed with blood flying, and his broken neck didn't know how to hold on.

This is quite an ironic thing, a powerful thief whose strength is at the middle level 3 is actually carried by a small thief at the low level 1 and is about to be sent to the graveyard.

The stronger side can only curse like a shrew, powerless to resist, and the weaker side is expressionless, as if it was an ant about to die.

This is the difference between success and failure, and there is no fairness, whether the means are bright or not, and facts speak louder than words.

When the loser dies and turns into loess, how many posterity will remember it? And how many people will know the truth about his death? The truth of the facts is only in the hands of the victor.

Benson's fragile neck was aimed at Butian's mouth, and the hot breath he exhaled in fear formed a white mist between his nostrils.

The cold, he felt the biting cold, it was the fear, the fear of death.

He doesn't know how many people he has killed in his life, taking on tasks issued by others, killing people, and then taking money. This is the way he lives, and killing has become a habit.

He remembered many times when he had killed people on nights like this, admiring the fearful expressions of others at his hands, and then letting their blood flow merrily, and their souls returning to the arms of death.

But now, the cold winter has just arrived, and he hasn't been able to see the snowflakes that have fallen this year, and he is going to die here. It was on such a night, this time not that he admired the death of others, but that he watched the flower of his own life, about to wither.

"Is this the reward for good and evil?" Benson smiled with relief from his ugly half-metal mask.

Phew. Sharp fangs pierced Benson's fragile skin, like two steel needles, into his neck and touching his veins.

It was an unimaginable pain, but Benson laughed wildly in pain, his face gradually began to stiffen, the original plump flesh began to dry up, the cyan blood vessels bulged to the surface of the skin, the skin gradually became cold, and his eyes were dull.

Bloodsucker. Butian sucked blood for the second time, but it was the first time he sucked human blood.

He felt that the wound on his neck was healing rapidly, and his body gradually began to regain strength, but he was not happy, but he felt extremely nauseated, and even resisted.

But he can't help it, he has to go on, it's a cannibalistic world.

A person who has never been in it will not understand deeply, Butian is helpless, he doesn't want to suck human blood, although he is a vampire, but this is not an excuse.

But he needs to survive, and sometimes many things are not what he wants to do. There are many things that he can't control at all, and he doesn't have such a strong ability to resist, because resistance is his death, and his death is worthless, not for dignity, not for attachment, not for ideals.

Benson can shoot at him unmasked, and show no mercy, and want to kill him at all times, can he not fight back and let the other party kill him?

If you want my life, I will suck your blood. The law of the jungle.

As the blood flowed, Benson's breath became weaker and weaker, until finally, his whole body trembled as if it were spasmodic, and his shriveled body was like a zombie, completely dead.

Locke saw the whole process of Benson's death, and the backbone of his back began to burst with cold air at this time. This way of dying was too weird and cruel, and he couldn't help but feel a little more awe in his eyes when he looked at Butian.

With a ding, the system prompt sounds.

At this time, the wound in Butian's throat had healed for the most part, the blood that had been lost had been replenished again, his pale face gradually had a trace of blood, he felt that his cold body had a temperature, and his heart beat became strong and powerful.

Gazing into the information module, he found that a large number of system prompts had accumulated.

"System Prompt: Passively triggers the racial talent - Blood Baron Transformation. ”

"System prompt: The physical condition is 10% near-death. Please treat it promptly. ”

"System Prompt: Physical condition is 7% near-death. Please treat it promptly. ”

"System Prompt: Physical condition is near-death 2%. Please treat it promptly.

"System prompt: Skip the level and kill the human intermediate level 3 blood shadow thief - Benson 61 Saudi Arabia. Experience gained is doubled, for a total of 800 experience points. ”

Suddenly, when he saw the first few system prompts, Bu Tian was scared in his heart, and his whole body was in a cold sweat, he hurriedly called up the personal attribute module, looked at the current physical condition, and the results he got made Bu Tian breathe a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, he was out of his near-death state and recovered to 21% weakness.

It seems that the vampire's strong recovery power is not omnipotent, for example, if the throat was cut by the enemy this time, it would be difficult to recover quickly, if it weren't for Bu Tianqiang holding on to sucking the enemy's blood in one breath, maybe he would be dead by now.

Vampire, sucking blood is his instinct, and it is also his strong ability to survive.

Bu Tian immediately noticed the system prompt obtained by killing Benson.

Killing an intermediate level 3 enemy can actually get 800 points of experience, and sure enough, the stronger the storage zài is yourself, the more experience you will be rewarded.

If he was able to kill a high-level martial artist now, I'm afraid that the reward of rich experience would be enough to make him move up several levels in a row.

With a wry smile, Bu Tian sighed.

A mid-level 3 guy almost killed him on the spot, and if it weren't for triggering the racial talent, I'm afraid he would have died a scumbag. And the high-level strength of the storage zài, if he makes a move on himself, I am afraid that ten of him will not be able to add up to one move of others.

Staggering up from the ground, the duration of the transformation of the blood baron had arrived, Butian's eyes gradually regained their clarity, the color of blood faded, the sharp fangs gradually shrunk, turning into two small tiger teeth, and the ten fingernails like blades slowly retracted and restrained, returning to their original state.

Locke stepped forward to support Butian, although he had many questions in his heart, but he would not ask. If the master wants to sue him, he will naturally say it, but if he doesn't want to sue him, it is useless to ask himself.

The injury was too serious, and although he was out of danger of life, Bu Tian still felt extremely weak, and his strength was less than two percent of what he was in his heyday.

Looking at the severity of this injury, it will take at least two days for Butian's ability to recover completely.

The final of the Spartan City Qualifying Challenge was held three days later, which was enough time for him to return to peak form.

Bu Tian looked down at the ground, where Benson's shriveled body lay quietly, his long brown hair scattered and his metal mask glowing in the moonlight.

After standing still for a long time, thoughtfully, he bent down and took off the metal mask, revealing Benson's entire face.

Ugly and disgusting, this is the first feeling of Butian.

The person's face is polarized, half of the face is indistinguishable from ordinary people, only the skin is a little darker. But the other half of the face, which was covered by a metal mask, was like a bunch of disgusting maggots gathered together, completely devoid of face shape, like a pile of rotten meat.

Butian frowned and threw away the metal mask in his hand.

"Locke, don't worry about me, it's okay anymore, you clean up here, I'll go back to my room to rest first." Butian took Locke's hand away, looked at him with a smile, and then turned around and walked slowly to the room.

"Okay, master. Locke bowed slightly to Butian's figure, and immediately began to clean up the messy battlefield after the war.

After this incident, Locke has begun to accept the identity of the master of Butian from the bottom of his heart. Unlike before, at that time, he only had respect for Butian, but now, while respecting Butian, he has more awe, awe of the strong.