Hearing Voldemort's words, Quirrell paused. The Dark Lord wanted to drink Ciel's blood? His blood might even be more effective than unicorn blood?
"But Master... Why didn't you sense it before?"
Voldemort was also somewhat confused. "Perhaps this little brat has some special bloodline. It wasn't revealed before. But recently it's started to show."
Then Voldemort urged Quirrell. "None of that matters. What matters is that I can feel his blood can restore more of my life force. To increase my chances of obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, I must have his blood. Hurry up and act!"
Quirrell swallowed hard, feeling somewhat cold. Previously he could tear open unicorn throats to drink blood, but that was at least an animal. But now, to tear open a young wizard's throat and drink human blood? To say he felt no resistance would be impossible.
But feeling the unicorn curse flowing through his blood vessels... just a touch of this could make one become neither human nor ghost, gradually turning into a walking corpse living the most painful existence. And now, he had been cursed by three unicorns in succession. If he couldn't recover enough power to obtain the Philosopher's Stone, his fate would be unimaginably miserable.
Thinking this, Quirrell's gaze turned vicious. To survive. For a more perfect life. What did it matter to kill and drink blood? After all, this world was already a man-eating world. So what if he actually ate a person once!
Then Quirrell completely made up his mind. He moved closer to the little greenhouse. But he didn't rashly use his wand to open the door. He knew the little greenhouse had protective magic. Though he was confident he could dispel it, to prevent accidents, it was better to use the most reliable method.
A strange expression appeared on Quirrell's face. Previously, he and Voldemort had disguised themselves as a senior named "Delphini" and chatted enthusiastically with Ciel through parchment. They had almost tricked him into revealing how to get through the variant Devil's Snare. Unfortunately, contact with him had abruptly ceased afterward. That should have been Dumbledore's protective magic interrupting the connection.
But now, there was no Dumbledore's protective magic to obstruct them. Quirrell took out another piece of parchment, slipping it through the door crack into the little greenhouse. At the same time, he wrote a line of elegant text on it.
"Junior Ciel, it's been so long since we talked. Why haven't you come to find me? Senior has missed you."
At this time, Ciel was in quite a good mood, calculating his future plans. "This time, thanks to the little silver bucket, I got Blood Jade to mature early. Tomorrow I'll draw some more dragon blood from Norbert, then I can cultivate a new batch of Blood Jade. This way, in a month, I can harvest another round. Then my hematopoietic ability might reach the Platinum tier, which could trigger further improvement in Legendary Strength and Legendary Vitality abilities. At the same time, the Dragon Fire ability should steadily reach the Silver tier. That would count as a stable trump card. In a month and a half, Piranha Algae can be harvested again. Aquatic Enhancement ability is also close to the Platinum tier. By the end of the first year, Patronus Trees will definitely mature. This series of harvests will be enough for my strength to surge dramatically before second year."
But when he saw a piece of parchment appear in the little greenhouse with familiar handwriting beginning to emerge, his good mood instantly vanished. His face was covered with frost.
The double agent was truly like a lingering ghost! Couldn't he just let him plant trees in peace?
He initially planned to handle this parchment coldly like before, directly tearing it up and throwing it under the Patronus Trees. That way he wouldn't have to worry about the magic emanating from it affecting him.
But then his gaze swept outside. In the thick darkness outside, his Platinum-tier night vision clearly outlined a silhouette emanating a powerful magical aura. His heart suddenly sank. Someone was outside the little greenhouse? Who this person was needn't be elaborated. It must be the double agent.
He didn't want to force his way into the little greenhouse. But if he kept getting no response on the parchment, that would be another story.
He suddenly clenched his fists. At this moment, frustration and unwillingness arose in his heart. His strength was still too weak. His development speed was still not fast enough. Even after improving so much, when the double agent was eyeing him hungrily, his situation was still so passive.
He bit his lips hard. The excitement and joy from ability improvements suddenly vanished. He didn't want to experience this situation again. But now, no matter how frustrated and unwilling he felt, he had to pull himself together to deal with the crisis at hand.
He carefully picked up the quill and wrote a reply under the Patronus Trees. "Sorry, Senior, I don't know what happened before, but no matter how I wrote on the parchment, there was no response. Later, Headmaster Dumbledore specifically talked to me once, saying something about not indulging in illusions. But I don't like Headmaster Dumbledore's grand principles. Senior isn't some illusion either. I dream about you..."
Outside the little greenhouse door, a sinister smile appeared at the corner of Quirrell's mouth. It seemed no further measures were needed. The previous conversation with the Dark Lord had already planted that bewitching magic deep in Ciel's heart. So what if Dumbledore had noticed? Could Dumbledore's grand words pull back a fallen heart?
Then Quirrell's eyes flashed. Since Ciel was already completely absorbed in the parchment, perhaps he didn't need to use such drastic methods. He could slowly bleed him, using the parchment to absorb his blood. This way he wouldn't worry about his sudden death alerting Dumbledore.
With this thought, Quirrell wrote another line on the parchment. "Since you miss me so much, could you prick your fingertip and let Senior taste your blood?"
When Ciel saw this line, he suddenly paused, somewhat confused. "Blood? You want to drink my blood?"
Quirrell frowned. Had he misjudged his obsession with the parchment? Or was blood-drinking too alarming, making him resistant?
Quirrell was about to explain when his eyes suddenly lit up. He began replying rapidly. "Senior, you want to drink my blood... you should have said so earlier! I don't have much else, but I have plenty of blood!"
The next moment, his eyes showed a sinister gleam as he directly slashed the artery on his arm. Instantly, blood sprayed like a high-pressure water gun onto the parchment. At the same time, his mind stirred. The Toxin ability he had just considered useless was already activated. Toxins silently permeated his blood.
Under his control, these toxins were extremely slow-acting. They wouldn't manifest anything immediately. Only after a certain time would they suddenly erupt and become increasingly severe.
"Senior, drink! Drink quickly, taste it!"
On the other side, Quirrell's parchment suddenly seeped with large bloodstains. Then blood sprayed toward Quirrell like a fountain. This stunned even Quirrell. What? This blood volume? What was he doing?
He had only asked him to prick his fingertip first, planning to have him squeeze out a few drops, then gradually increase the amount daily. But this kid was too extreme!
At this time, wild joy occupied Quirrell's mind. Voldemort eagerly took control of his body, then leaned over the parchment, face intoxicated, gulping down Ciel's blood full of vitality.
"This feeling... Wonderful! Too wonderful!"
Voldemort felt that since losing his body, he hadn't been in such good condition for a long time. Power was gradually recovering!
At this time, looking at the continuous blood flowing from the parchment, he rarely wrote a line. "Stop, Ciel. Senior has had enough."
But unexpectedly, his handwriting carried excitement. "Enough? How much have you drunk? Are you really satisfied, Senior? Can you taste anything? No, drink more, drink much more!"
Gulp. Gulp.
Then the blood spurting from the parchment became even more violent. Seeing this scene, even cold Voldemort rarely felt moved. This kid was so honest! Look at his performance, then look at those Death Eaters who followed him back then... If they had his spirit of willingly sacrificing life for him, what Order of the Phoenix, what Dumbledore... where would they stand a chance?!
Talent, absolute talent. Can't let him die like this.
Voldemort directly canceled the blood-absorbing magic on the parchment. At this time, seeing that blood could no longer be absorbed by the parchment, Ciel immediately showed regret. With his Legendary Vitality plus the newly acquired enhanced hematopoietic ability, this was nothing! With this level of blood loss, he could last at least ten more minutes!
In that case, the toxins mixed into the double agent's body through blood would be an astonishing amount. Once they erupted, even dragons would have to drink their fill!
Unfortunately, why did it stop? He said reluctantly. "Senior. Don't stop. Have a few more sips!"
Then a line of text appeared on the parchment. "Ciel. I've felt your sincerity. Senior Delphini is very happy. Now, I want to give you a reward. What do you want? Powerful magic or wealth... Senior can give you anything!"
He paused. Huh? Voldemort wanted to reward him? No way, poisoning him still got rewards?
Then his eyes suddenly lit up. To cultivate Blood Jade and increase Blood Jade production, he needed large amounts of fresh Class 5X magical creature blood. The amount he could get from Norbert was limited. Getting it from other magical creatures was too difficult.
But what about Voldemort? What difficulty could there be for him? Acromantulas before him would be like little spiders... he could directly use a group of Acromantulas as mobile blood banks! This way, couldn't he rely on Voldemort to obtain large amounts of Acromantula blood?
Wouldn't Blood Jade production increase? And increased production of Blood Jade cultivated with Acromantula blood meant his Toxin ability would improve accordingly. When the toxins in the double agent's body erupted, they would be even more violent.
Thinking this, he didn't hesitate. "Senior. I want blood supplements so I can continue supplying blood to you. If possible, I know there's a group of Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. There's a potion recipe that can use their fresh blood for efficient blood supplementation. Could you get me some? It must be fresh blood. Oh right, preferably don't kill them... Acromantulas are pitiful lives too! If I knew Acromantulas died because of me, I'd never talk to you again!"
After adding this warning, he breathed a sigh of relief. This way, the Acromantulas shouldn't be exterminated, right? Otherwise, wouldn't he lose a bunch of targets in the future?
At this moment, seeing his words, Voldemort took a deep breath, his pale face showing a flush of excitement. What kind of subordinate was this? Sincerely dedicating everything for him. This was exactly the kind of subordinate Lord Voldemort ideally wanted!
What was loyalty? This was true loyalty! The only pity was that this kid was still too kind and pure. He couldn't bear to let even dark creatures like Acromantulas die?
His eyes showed profound depth. "Fine. Kids are just like this. Let him keep some innocence for now. Later, when I make my comeback, I'll personally teach him what cruelty means!"
Then Voldemort agreed to his request before cutting off the parchment connection. His eyes flickered with cold light. If he could really supply him with blood periodically, the power he could recover would be far more than previously estimated. After accumulating for a while longer, the Philosopher's Stone would definitely be in his grasp!
But at this time, Quirrell rather spoiled the mood by saying, "M-Master... Don't you feel something's not quite right after drinking his blood? Is it my imagination?"
Interrupted, Voldemort suddenly snorted coldly in Quirrell's mind. "Quirrell. Are you saying his blood was tampered with? Heh, you want me to doubt his loyalty to me? A kind little Hufflepuff who doesn't even want to kill Acromantulas... what bad intentions could he have? I'm warning you, don't use such petty tricks again. Now hurry and find me Acromantulas, take their blood to supplement him."
Quirrell's face paled as he nodded. As for that slight unease he felt... it no longer existed. Perhaps it was just subconscious nausea from drinking human blood? Otherwise, could this kid's blood actually be poisonous?
Quirrell said nothing more and hurriedly left the little greenhouse, heading toward the Forbidden Forest.
At this time, sensing Quirrell had left, Ciel let out a long breath. This crisis was past. For a long time afterward, he probably wouldn't face threats from the double agent again.
But his mood still couldn't improve after experiencing this ordeal. This time he was lucky. But next time, if he encountered such a situation again, would he have to rely on luck too?
Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. His gaze fell on the little greenhouse. He had originally thought the greenhouse's area was sufficient. But now it seemed far from enough.
Second year would have the basilisk. Third year might have lots of Dementors. There might even be other unexpected situations. He didn't want to rely on luck or so-called adaptability ever again.
Only the weak needed to adapt! His gaze became increasingly determined. "I need more farmland. To plant more crops. Plant trees... I want to plant trees!"