At this moment, countless powerful beings across the Universe seemed to peer through endless time and space, spying on Earth.
The bald female Sorcerer Supreme looked solemn, drawing squares and circles with her hands, and a magic circle was born from her hands, instantly covering Earth.
Her forehead was slightly sweating, feeling as if she could not hold on much longer.
Mike seemed to sense something.
He pointed one hand to the sky and one hand to the ground.
He walked seven steps.
His gaze swept in all directions.
Mike recited, "Above the heavens and below the Earth, only I am supreme!"
In an instant, golden lotus flowers emerged from the ground, naturally supporting his feet.
The power of the golden lotus flowers augmented the magic circle.
The spying gazes were stung and retreated one after another.
Mike looked up and vaguely saw the bald woman smile kindly before disappearing into the vast night sky.
It took a long time to describe, but in reality, from Drake's roar, Talos's death, to Mike's strange posture, only a few seconds passed.
At this moment, Drake actually had the thought of prostrating himself.
"Impossible, I am a King."
Drake gritted his teeth and suddenly rushed towards the window.
A King does not kneel, but he can run away?
Saying that living has no meaning, but at the brink of life and death, it became a pretentious lie.
The glass French window was right in front of him, but Drake's body stiffened because Mike had surprisingly arrived first, calmly striking a fighting pose.
Pfft!
Drake looked down.
A hand had pierced his heart.
Mike retracted his fist; although it had pierced Drake's chest, not a single drop of blood stained it.
Mike opened his palm; his fingers were long and slender, and there was a drop of scarlet blood in his palm.
"Give, give it back to me."
Drake, whose heart was destroyed, did not die immediately. His heart was never his weakness, but a container.
"This is Dracula's essence blood, only one drop."
That drop of blood floated on Mike's palm, crystal clear and more dazzling than any ruby. Any woman who saw it would definitely shriek at a super high decibel.
That's why Drake said he was both Dracula and not Dracula. He was a body named Drake, containing Dracula's essence blood.
Drake had independent thoughts, but one day, if Dracula's main body was killed, then Dracula would be resurrected from the essence blood. And Drake would exist as a part of Dracula.
This was the secret to Dracula's immortality.
Rebirth from a drop of blood.
And Dracula certainly did not prepare just one container like Drake.
"No, there should be something more fundamental."
Mike stared at that drop of blood, his pupils gradually turning into golden lotus flowers blooming with golden light. The golden light shone on that drop of blood.
The blood color gradually faded, and that drop of blood turned pure black.
"So that's how it is, this is the power of the curse contained in the dark divine book." Mike had an epiphany, so the best way to eliminate Vampires was to destroy the dark divine book.
The problem was, the dark divine book was a creation of the Elder Gods Chthon, recording all of Chthon's evil deeds and dark magic.
A creation of the Elder Gods, how could it be easily destroyed?
Destroying the dark divine book was difficult, but destroying this tiny bit of curse power… Garuda Flame rose from Mike's hand, scorching the black blood drop.
"Ah ah ah!"
A shrill howl came from the blood drop.
Blade, Morbius, Night Werewolf, and the Vampires fighting them, suddenly felt their heads ache as if pricked by needles.
They all clutched their heads.
The battle was forced to a halt.
All the glass in the building shattered amidst the howling.
The blood drop was completely incinerated in the Garuda Flame, and the howling that drove people to madness finally disappeared.
Drake propped himself on the ground, trying to stand up, one hand reaching forward, trying to grasp something.
As the black blood drop was burned away, his expression solidified, and eventually, like an ordinary Vampire, he turned into ashes.
"Hey, how much longer are you going to drag this out? Clean up these scums, it's time for a late-night snack." Mike shouted to Blade and the other two.
Blade clutched his throbbing head and retorted, "Easier said than done."
Blade found that the Vampires had no fighting spirit. Their King and leader had been easily killed, and they were already in despair.
"Emma, I'm exhausted." Mike suddenly plopped down on the ground.
The golden lotus flower, which consumed the most energy and was used to augment the magic circle, drained ninety percent of Mike's power.
"Damn it, I owe a favor." Mike knew that it was the Sorcerer Supreme who had blocked the prying eyes of Universe-level powerhouses. The current Mike was just a tender shoot, unable to withstand the schemes and troubles of such powerful beings.
He still needed to let the bullets fly for a while.
And develop a few more waves.
In a dark ancient castle in Romania.
Rumble rumble!
Thunder rolled.
Heavy dark clouds hung on the horizon, and streaks of lightning tore through the dark sky.
In a room of the ancient castle, there was an ancient coffin.
Suddenly.
An arm poked through the coffin lid, and the clenched fist suddenly extended its middle finger.
A pale, gloomy, gaunt man sat bolt upright from the coffin, blood overflowing from the corner of his mouth.
He furiously flung away his favorite coffin lid, his voice filled with anger: "Who, who exactly!"
He looked towards the direction of the U.S.
After a long while, the pale man sat up from the coffin and shook a brass bell.
A hunched, decrepit servant entered, carrying a kerosene lamp, trembling.
"What is Master's command?"
"Arrange a ship to the U.S., the sooner the better."
"Yes, as you wish." The old servant saw blood spilling from Dracula's mouth: "Master… you are injured."
"Do you need me to prepare virgins for you?"
As long as Dracula was not dead, no matter how severe the injury, he could recover immediately with enough blood. As for virgins, just as some Vampires favored infants, Dracula preferred the blood of virgins.
Hence the old servant's question.
Dracula shook his head.
This injury was different from ordinary injuries and could not be recovered by consuming blood.
In an underground temple in the U.S.
The altar was covered with thick dust.
On the altar, a thick hardcover book was enshrined.
The brown cover was printed with mysterious symbols.
Suddenly.
The altar lights lit up.
The hardcover book automatically opened.
The yellowed parchment, originally blank, then revealed dense ancient characters.
A character gradually faded, then disappeared.
Then the book closed, and the lights went out.
As if nothing had happened.
Mike found a twenty-four-hour deli. As the four of them entered the store, the clerk's sphincter tightened in fear, almost pressing the emergency alarm button.
Blade wore sunglasses.
Morbius's head and face were hidden under his hood.
Night Werewolf wore a T-shirt two sizes too small on his upper body, and his lower garment was torn into strips—he couldn't find anything suitable, so he had to make do.
Mike's face was pale, and he felt like he was floating when he walked.
This group of people looked too strange.
The clerk didn't call the police immediately because he had worked too many night shifts and was braver than average people.
Mike took out two U.S. dollar bills and slapped them on the counter: "Fried chicken, sandwiches, whatever you have, as fast as possible. The rest is a tip."
The clerk's eyes lit up when he saw the banknotes: "Okay, coming right up."
This was the U.S., no matter if you were human or ghost, demon or god, as long as you paid, you were a good customer.