"If you dare to hurt my master, then die, Dracula boy. 35xs" Blood Ji's ruthless words came out of Wu Xiaoluo's mouth.

In a top-of-the-line Edwardian mansion in London, Dracula awoke from his dream, sat up, and gasped for air with his hands on his heart, beads of sweat running down his back onto the sheets.

Dracula's good-looking eyebrows furrowed tightly, and he couldn't figure out how he could have such a weird dream.

In the dream, he was inserted into the chest cavity by an oriental girl with his bare hands, and his heart was pulled out. Vampires' hearts have long since stopped beating on their own, and they have to constantly suck blood to provide energy to their bodies, so losing their hearts will also die.

That Oriental girl actually called him "Dracula the Kid" in the voice of her great-grandmother Qiao Wei, and what was even more bizarre was that Qiao Wei said that he had hurt her master? Qiao Wei was the ancestor of the entire vampire race, how could she surrender to others, let alone a weak Oriental girl?

What's even more incredible is that when his heart is ripped out in the dream, the cold feeling that instantly spreads throughout his body is too real, as if he is really about to die

Dracula wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, lifted the quilt, got out of bed naked, walked out of the bedroom, which was larger than an ordinary two-bedroom apartment, entered a private elevator that could accommodate eight people, went down to the wine cellar in the basement, took a sealed bottle of aristocratic blood, and then took the elevator up to the viewing roof again, and poured himself a cup of sweet and delicious "fine wine". 35xs

Standing against the railing, he looked out into the night for half of London.

With the River Thames to the east and Big Ben to the north, the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey are all within a 10-minute walk. To the south of the same block, there are also the city offices and Smith Plaza. Just across the street is MI5. The security here is tight, and even if the house is closed at night, the house is not afraid of thieves at all.

Originally home to the headquarters of a faction, he bought it a few years ago and became his private home, the largest in all of London.

The winter nights in London were unusually cold, and the night wind blew Dracula's long hair, but he stood still in the wind, his face lonely.

He had lived for five hundred years, and for a powerful and immortal vampire, a hundred years was nothing more than a drop in the ocean.

He can teleport, he can call the wind and rain, he has infinite power, he can tear people to pieces in an instant, and he can turn others into vampires if he wants, and follow him to hellish eternal life.

For five centuries, he lived in solitude, despite his daily lust and the crowd around him to curry favor with him.

Whenever he looked at the pale face and scarlet eyes in the mirror, he felt a deep sense of self-loathing, feeling like he was living in a hell from which he could never recover.

He thought of death countless times, he thought of all the ways to end his life, such as being pierced through the heart by a silver sword, being torn apart by a werewolf, and so much so that he was afraid of death.

Today's strange dream made him yearn for death again.

Yesterday he received an invitation to the Interracial Alliance, and the centennial International Interracial Exchange Conference was to be held again, and the venue of this exchange meeting was set in Italy.

When he received the letter, he threw it directly into the trash, and the first few times it was boring, and he really couldn't be interested. But at this moment, after that strange dream, he suddenly wanted to go again.

He had a strong premonition that he would definitely meet the Oriental girl in his dream at this international interracial exchange meeting.

And could she really end his life?

Dracula lifted the bottle and drained the blood in one gulp, a smile of anticipation on his face.

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