It's no exaggeration to say that in just one month of being at Triss's dilapidated little manor, he'd seen more fat rats than the vampires he had come across.
Although Murphy led a life of seclusion, he was actually quite well-known within the Blood Vulture Clan. Even the old Blood Servant lady responsible for sweeping floors and emptying chamber pots in the Blood Vulture Corridor knew him, after all, Murphy was the first one in Cardman City to stick by "the crippled queen" Lady Cui Si unfalteringly.
Having been transformed into a vampire, he had resided in the rags and tatters of Triss's courtyard for a year now, serving her as if she were his own kin.
Such a heartwarming tale was quite "legendary" amongst the vampire clans rife with conspiracy and violence, and its folklore status was comparable to being listed among the "Seven Wonders of Cardman City."
"What do you mean?"
Murphy's mouth remained still, maintaining his demeanor, yet his voice traveled back to the vampire in the shadow.
Ventriloquism!
The rudimentary use of the inherent dark spiritual energy talent vampires were born with.
[Once sussesful use of a beginner-level Psychic Skill detected, proficiency in dark spiritual energy perception and manipulation has increased, current level: "Novice."]
At the moment he finished speaking through ventriloquism, such a prompt appeared before Murphy's eyes, but he was already used to it and just lamented how hard it was to level up this skill.
It had been a month, and he was still at the novice level.
"Nothing much, just wishing your impending 'journey' a pleasant one," came the vampire's subtly mocking reply.
Probably thinking that such sarcasm wasn't pointed enough, he gestured, and the Blood Servant in charge of distributing food immediately obsequiously stuffed three more packages of relief supplies into Murphy's arms.
What did that mean?
Murphy blinked, maintaining his composure as he bent slightly to say goodbye to his kin, who returned the gesture perfunctorily, following the Blood Vulture Clan's family customs.
On his way back to the manor, Murphy, looking at the five packages of relief supplies in his arms, couldn't help but wonder:
"Does this mean 'eat well before hitting the road?' Crazy! Am I so low-key and destitute that someone is still picking on me? These damn vampires really all need a good thrashing!"
Muttering such complaints, Murphy quickly skulked along in the shadows by the walls toward his "manor," but every 100 meters he would see a prompt appear before his eyes.
[Successful completion of a Shadow Walk detected, stealth and skulking skill proficiency has increased, current level: "Skilled."]
One could think he was practicing his skills, but in reality, it was out of necessity. After all, who would willingly slink around walls like a thief if they could walk the main roads?
By this time, it was nearing nine o'clock; the sun had turned malicious, ushering in the most unbearable moment of the day for vampires. To avoid getting scorched by the sunlight and with no money to purchase expensive sun protection products, Murphy had no choice but to choose shadows to walk in.
Normal vampires would never move about in the sunlight; it was at nightfall that their joy of the day began, but Murphy had no such indulgent habits.
On one hand, his household was poverty-stricken, and he was compelled by life's demands—if he didn't rush to collect food in the early morning, both he and the useless elder he cared for would go hungry today.
On the other hand, it was because the stubborn routine of the otherworldly soul within this vampire's body.
The first time he "came over" out of curiosity, he tried a nocturnal lifestyle once, and it turned out just like a 30-year-old man who spends a night in an internet cafe and then needs three days to recover.
He could stay up late, but only a little bit at a time.
"Sigh."
Though it was only early morning, Murphy sighed for the seventeenth time today.
He pushed open the iron gate of the "manor" with his arms full of food, using too much strength and causing the rusty and long-neglected gate to crash onto the dusty "garden" overgrown with ivy and weeds with a clatter, startling three fat rats into scampering away.
[Successful act of environmental destruction detected, proficiency in close-combat and physical attack skills has increased, current level: "Novice"]
The familiar prompt popped up again, leaving Murphy feeling a sense of fatigue wash over him.
Half of his novice-level close-combat skills had been honed by this pitiful iron gate over the past month—so, shouldn't he be thanking the gate uncle by now?
Murphy looked at the "manor" he had lived in for a month. The mottled buildings scarcely hinted at their past splendor. It was a classic "peace within chaos" mansion, with a meticulously arranged garden spanning nearly a thousand square meters.
There was also a hidden wine cellar and a lofty observatory, and the main house was beautifully designed, even adorned with unknown statues.
Regrettably, such scenes belonged to at least a century ago.
Now, the manor was nothing more than a decrepit house awaiting demolition, such a place that not even vagrants would visit. It was hard to imagine it as the humble abode of a former elder vampire who claimed to have lived for 500 years.
"Reveno·Mo Fei·Le Senbula!"
A cold call suddenly came from behind.
Murphy, who was adept at fixing gates, turned around to see a cluster of shadows converging in the wall's shadow. As the sound of bat wings unfurling echoed, a slender figure appeared before him.
This was clearly an advanced display of psychic skills, but more importantly, it was the person before him.
Dressed in a luxurious scarlet robe with a short cane in hand stood a vampire, whose delicate chest badge signified allegiance to the Clan Leader, a Blood Vulture Guard.
They were rarely seen in public—each appearance signified that they were acting upon the will of the esteemed Salockdale Lersenbra, leader of the Blood Vulture Clan.