Hugo opened his palm, glancing at it briefly before setting his eyes back at the person several meters away from him. The wounds on his cheek, neck, shoulders, and everywhere across his body slowly closed up.
"How infuriating," he muttered as he closed his hands into a fist, unfazed by the shower of red. "And evil."
The dark barrier that ascended earlier already felt alarming. However, when it softened and suddenly became liquid, Hugo knew he made a correct judgment. Not that he accurately predicted this from happening, but deep down, he knew Azazel wouldn't infiltrate Ronmin Empire if he didn't have a card up his sleeve to bring his allies without the werewolves noticing.
There was no way the werewolves wouldn't smell a vampire from a mile. So, Hugo could only think one way, the underground. How they would do it? He was unclear, but that was the only way the vampire could infiltrate their territory.
He was correct.
