Late at night, dark clouds veiled the bright moon.
Inside the room, only a single candle illuminated the dim space, its flame flickering gently in the cold wind seeping through the cracks of the window.
The candlelight glinted off the dagger in Anna's hand, wavering between light and shadow—just like her heart.
"Kill her… kill her, and no one will be able to take my place… kill her…" Anna muttered, her gaze vacant.
Beneath the cold gleam of the blade lay her junior disciple, Elena, fast asleep on the bed.
"Yes… while the Baron is away, kill her. I've cultivated for so long—how could I be replaced so easily? Just because my blood core is damaged? Why… why…?" Anna's eyes grew vicious, her voice rising. She had already slipped a sleeping draught into Elena's dinner—there was no chance she would wake.
As her emotions surged, blood rushed through her veins, and the scars on her back burned faintly, as if reminding her of the hardship of her cultivation.
Twenty years. It had taken her twenty years to earn the Baron's favor, to escape the lash and humiliation.
And now, it was all gone.
"Anna, your value is gone." Two days ago, the Black Baron had said coldly, whip in hand. "Though Elena's talent is not as exceptional as yours once was, she is young and far more moldable. From tomorrow onward, resources will be allocated to her."
The crack of the whip struck her back—but it was nothing compared to the chill of his words.
Anna took half a step forward. The bed creaked softly.
In her sleep, Elena frowned slightly and turned over, the thin fabric on her back slipping aside.
Anna froze.
Under the candlelight, dark red lash marks crisscrossed the girl's delicate back—old and new layered together. Some had already scabbed; others were still raw and bleeding, as if freshly inflicted.
Anna's breathing quickened.
She knew those wounds all too well.
Every curve of the lash, every torn strip of flesh—they were identical to the scars on her own back, now faded into pale lines.
Twenty years ago, she had been the same age, begging the Baron for approval. He had called her "a stubborn stone that must be carved open by the whip."
She remembered those nights—one mistake in reciting her techniques, and the disciplinary whip would come crashing down.
She lay on the ground, biting her lip until it bled, tears mingling with blood.
The Baron's voice had been as cold as iron: "Pain is the best teacher on the path of the vampire."
But from the corner of her eye, Anna had seen it clearly—the fanatic gleam in his eyes, the madness in his smile as the whip fell.
He hadn't been tempering her.
He had simply been enjoying it.
Now, staring at the familiar wounds on Elena's back, Anna's grip on the dagger began to tremble.
The girl who would replace her… was nothing more than another version of herself.
No… no, how could she hesitate?
These days, the Baron's lashes were delivered without expression, without even the passion he once had. It was all because of her—because this girl had appeared.
Anna tightened her grip on the dagger, veins bulging on her hand.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A sudden sound at the door.
Anna jolted, nearly dropping the dagger.
She quickly hid it within her sleeve, her heart pounding wildly.
Who was it? The Baron? Wasn't he supposed to return tomorrow?
If she were discovered, she would be finished.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound came again, unhurried.
Anna took a deep breath, forcing her voice steady. "Who is it?"
No answer.
The sound seemed almost like an illusion.
After waiting a moment, she crept to the door and peered outside through the crack.
No one.
Only cold moonlight spilled through the gaps in the clouds.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The third time, she heard it clearly.
It wasn't coming from outside the door.
It was coming from the old redwood box in the corner of the room.
Could it be…
After confirming the corridor was empty, Anna glanced once more at the sleeping Elena, then tucked the box into her chest and slipped out silently.
Taking advantage of the deserted halls, she entered a hidden storage room, locked the door behind her, and drew upon the faint power within her damaged blood core. Biting her finger, she used her blood infused with spiritual energy to inscribe a ward on the door.
Only after several deep breaths did she slowly take the box out.
"It couldn't be… that, could it?"
The moment she lifted it, a crisp thud came from inside.
The sound seemed to strike directly against her heart.
It really was!
After steadying herself, Anna slowly opened the box.
Inside lay a golden finger.
Not metaphorically—this finger truly shimmered with the luster of gold.
The instant she saw it, her heartbeat skipped.
There was no doubt—the sound had come from this finger.
Anna frowned deeply, her fingers unconsciously brushing against her dagger.
She knew exactly what it was.
It belonged to a dangerous ancient being—a heretical god: the Wolf God, Van Helsing.
Legend had it that he had clashed with the gods themselves, and the immortals, deeply wary of him, had united to destroy him—erasing even his soul.
Yet even so, his body could not be destroyed.
In the end, the gods had no choice but to seal his remains in different places, preventing them from ever reuniting. But over time, through wars and migrations, many fragments had resurfaced in the world.
It was said that whoever obtained a piece of the heretical god's remains could gain his power.
And now, one such finger lay before Anna.
She had obtained it from a black market trader… more accurately, extorted it using her status as a member of the vampire sect.
Of course, she had never expected it to be real.
The trader likely hadn't either.
And yet—it was genuine.
A trace of unease flickered in Anna's heart.
Should she hand it over to the sect?
As a top-tier sect governing an entire region, founded by the God of Vampires, it was their duty to suppress such relics.
Turning it in would surely earn her a reward—perhaps a weapon, or even medicinal pills.
At the thought of pills, Anna's eyes lit up.
Perhaps something to repair her damaged blood core…
But that would be the end of it.
She knew well that truly restoring her foundation was beyond the reach of an outer disciple like herself.
Her fate… seemed destined to be replacement.
No. No!
The thought that twenty years of struggle would end in being discarded made her scars seem to bleed again.
She had endured all that pain for one reason—to climb higher.
A flame of ambition ignited in her eyes, reflecting the golden gleam of the finger.
What if… she chose differently?
Could the Wolf God's power restore her blood core?
Her grip tightened on the dagger hidden in her sleeve.
The answer was obvious.
After confirming the finger was a thumb, Anna clenched her teeth and brought the blade down on her own right thumb.
"Ugh—!"
A muffled groan escaped between her clenched teeth as pain surged through her body.
Forcing herself to endure it, she pressed the golden finger onto the severed stump.
Threads of golden light extended from it, burrowing into the wound. A cool sensation spread, and within seconds, the pain vanished.
And with the fading coolness, the golden glow also disappeared.
Anna looked down.
Her right hand was whole again—the thumb now natural, flesh-colored, indistinguishable from her original one.
"Haha… it worked!" Anna laughed, raising her hand, her face glowing with joy. It was perhaps her first genuine smile since her blood core had been damaged. Her body trembled uncontrollably with excitement. "I've got it… I've obtained your power… the power of the heretical god, Van Helsing!"
And then—
A teasing male voice echoed in her mind:
"Oh? Do you truly crave my power that much?"