Chapter 248 247 Corando’s Malice

Chapter 248 247. the Malice of Corlando
“These bastards are pretty ruthless, just escaped and bloodied an unlucky clan.”

Murphy, who stood on the ruins of the city wall in the night of the Scarlet Fortress, retracted his vision, and the overhead view from Revernor kept him abreast of the movements of Hogg’s gang.

He saw how his hand-picked “armor” viciously killed the abandoned village, and how he brutally executed the disobedient leaders and barbarians, and then divided all the female jackals of the clan among his people.

Murphy was not a biologist and had no interest in watching “jackal porn”, so he stopped reading to avoid getting cock-eyed.

“That’s how they survive, Master.”

Maxim, who had rushed back from the Dark Barony, stood behind Murphy as he whispered:

“They live a life of plundering like bandits, relying on robbing everything, although the people of this land loathe the Jackals, in reality, many people know that the ones who are robbed the most by them are precisely their own people.

However, even the jackals have advantages.

They will only kill rebellious males after each robbery, but females and cubs will not be harmed in any way, and even the cubs that do not belong to them will be raised by them and then driven out of the tribe so that they can make their own way.

From this point of view, these barbarians are still somewhat humane.”

“This may be the reason why there are so many foreign races in the Dark Mountain Range, but only the Jackals were able to set off the Black Plague that shook the continent. It is also the source of their power, that protective desire for females and cubs etched in their bones.

Protecting the females allows them to give birth to more children, and protecting the children keeps the bloodline of the race intact, both of which are enough to ensure that the Jackals will always be in the midst of expansion.”

Murphy said softly:
“Alas, this is much more civilized than some black-hearted humans, never mind, let’s not talk about it, Hogg is a cunning dog, it will protect itself. The next time we contact it, I’m afraid it will be time for a showdown.”

“But aren’t you afraid of its betrayal?”

Maxim said with some doubt:

“A thing like a jackal can’t talk about loyalty at all, and while I agree that that Hogg is oddly unlike a proper jackal, it’s a safe bet that it will be captured by its own vile nature as well.”

“And what would we lose?”

Murphy asked rhetorically:
“Our investment in Hogg has been little more than some tattered leather armor and cold weapons so far, and while it’s certainly welcome to us that it maintains its loyalty, even if it goes rogue at best it’ll only be to lead the way for the Jackals to attack the Scarlet Fortress through that underground tunnel.

But don’t you forget what’s on the third floor of the sewers.

If Great King Kenpot is willing to contribute and help us completely solve that headache-inducing ghoul plague in the sewers, I’m even going to give it a ‘Good Citizen’ medal as the Governor of Transylvania yet.

And most importantly, Mark!
When I say I want to give all the living beings on this great land an equal life, I’m not saying I’m joking or drawing a pie for intellectuals with idealistic sentiments like Professor Malcolm.

I truly intend to do so.

Hogg is an attempt to do just that.

If he and his people are willing to abandon their savage nature to become a part of this land, I really will give them the Smuggler’s Woodland as a territory and turn it into a ‘Jackal Reservation’.”

“I cannot fathom it, my lord.”

Maxim, always honest with Murphy, said:

“I’m not saying that equality is bad, but I always feel that your ideals are hard to be accepted by other people, I was once a human, I know that there are three, six, nine classes among humans, and even if you give them equal personalities it won’t change anything.

The rich will always oppress the poor, the powerful will always treat the rich as slaves, and the powerful can take the first three with abandon.

This is the tradition of the continent, and not something that can be changed by a single edict from you.”

“It’s not a mere ideal, Mark.”

Murphy was always more than willing to explain his ideas to those close to him and convince them to join him rather than issue orders, and he didn’t view such explanations and teachings as a waste of time.

He said:

“I actually came up with this slogan from a rather selfish purpose.

Think about it, if in the future Transylvania could have jackals as pioneers, dog-headed people to dig and labor for us, human intelligence to preside over the development of this land, the technology of dwarves and halflings for logistical support, and the mindfulness of elves to make all sorts of paraphernalia for us.

In the daytime we have the sun-blessed Sangha to defend the land, and in the nighttime we have the mighty vampires to patrol the four corners of the land.

Whenever our warriors charge forward, we have the healers of the Church of Avalon at our backs, the fierce and sharp Winterwolf monks as our eyes and claws, and the forbidden guards of Mother Earth’s Gaia as our unbreakable wall.

Dare you imagine the power that such a nation can muster?
Each ethnicity has its own strengths and values, and when they are available to you, it’s more than just a case of 1+1 equals 2.

No one has ever tried to gather everyone under the same banner, it’s certainly difficult, but we should try, after all, the Blood Vulture Clan is now penniless, and there’s no extra cost to try.

And most importantly…”

The vampire lord looked back at Maxim as he said seriously:

“My warriors like this style! They come from a more advanced and civilized world, and after they see what we do, they will realize that we are the group that represents the most advanced ideas in this world.

Ideal!

Mark, this ideal is not just mine with you and Tris and Miriam, it’s also my warriors’.

A warrior armed with ideals and hope can explode with power to change the world.
It’s far from vain!

I’ve talked to them, and I know something like that happened in their world.”

Maxim listened to all this with a wooden face.

After Murphy had finished, he replied, still quite frankly:
“In fact, I couldn’t understand you when you were talking about the Sangha and vampires joining forces to fight, so please forgive me for my ignorance, but I really can’t imagine what kind of catastrophic scene a collaboration between the Sons of the Sun and the Midnight Descendants should be.”

“So it’s always useful to go to Professor Malcolm’s and listen to more history lessons when you have nothing else to do, and learn more about history for your brain that wants to think so badly these days, but isn’t capable of complex thought.”

Murphy grunted.

Instead of rebuking Maxim, he pointed in the direction of Baron Lim’s territory and said:

“There is your battlefield next, just like what you did in the Barony of Spectre, sweeping through there in seven days’ time and driving all the jackals to Count Sicor’s Domain and the Andromeda Hills.

At the end of this campaign, we will begin the process of dealing with the great band of Kenport.”

“I can understand this, and I am more than willing to do such simple things for you, so, obey! My lord.”
—
Kenport, the jackal warlord who was being talked about by Murphy and Maxim, would be having a nighttime conversation with another vampire as well.

Of course this conversation taking place in the Andromeda Hills was more than a little uncomfortable, both in terms of content and style, compared to the courteous and ancient ethnicities.

Kenport was a powerful jackal barbarian leader.

His full name is Kenport Bitebone!

From this meaningful family name, you can tell the “extraordinary origin” of this honorable man, he comes from the Bone Biting Clan, the clan established by the Bone Biting King who caused the plague on the continent 111 years ago.

If the jackals also pay attention to the order of seniority and inferiority, then the Bite Bone Clan is the proper “royal family”.

Unfortunately, the civilization of the jackals is a group of people who carve into their bones the survival of the fittest, so after the king of the bones disappeared in the filthy swamp and died in defeat, the Bite Bone Clan also lost the status of the commander-in-chief.

However, as one of the most powerful branches of the jackal clans, they were still qualified to live in the mossy valley, which made the members of the Bite Bone Clan all fat and strong, and were almost two completely different creatures from ordinary jackals.

Take Ken Potter for example.

His height reached an exaggerated 2.8 meters, like a “giant species” among jackals.

Underneath the special patterned mane was a strong body, and he could carry a heavy shield that ordinary jackals needed two people to pick up with one hand, and the skull flail that he was best at using was divided into three strands at the head of his hammer, and was also inflicted with a malicious spell by a secret magician.

Most of all, and most tellingly, this guy had plate armor!
Real plate armor. Although the craftsmanship was crude, only the jackal elders of the Mossy Valley would make such a terrible armor, making Kenpot look like a can of steel when he put it on, and coupled with his silver rank strength and true warrior elite template, it made this guy when he started to go on a rampage, even ogres, not to mention jackals, had to take a backseat.

Strong personal force is the jackal leader of the standard, but the peculiar thing is that this guy is a brute soldier at the same time is also a “priest”.

Though the jackals have no god of their own, they, like the vampires, have fashioned their own beliefs out of thin air.

The vampires call upon the Mother of Midnight, while the jackals call upon the Lord of the Hunt.

There are no gods to perform magic for them, but who knows what kind of crazy thinking the jackal hunting priests did during the two hundred years they took over the Mossy Valley, but they really did come up with rituals that would be too barbaric for other races to describe.

The most outrageous thing is that these strange and barbaric rituals can really give the jackals certain power enhancement.

The signature skill of the hunting priests is the “bloodthirsty magic”, and it’s no exaggeration to say that during the Fourth Black Plague, the jackals used this to carve up all the races in the entire continent from head to toe.

The fact that King Kenpot was a hunting priest meant that he was cunning and smart, which made the plan of the man sitting in front of him to deceive him not so easy to realize.

“Lord Kenport, your army is nearing 30,000 men, and the barrenness of the Andromeda Hills simply cannot support such a large number of bandits.

Not to mention the fact that each of your soldiers has a large appetite that is completely at odds with their strength.”

A hazy voice rang out in the strangely smelling tent as he said:
“You must march at once! The situation over at the Scarlet Fortress is changing every day, but it is certain that the cunning vampire lord Murphy and his concubine Tris over there have prepared a large amount of food for his lords.

That food is enough to feed the soldiers under your command and drive them to conquer the city for you.

The rich plains of Kavhokar are close at hand, but the Winter Wolves are understrength and the weak Thorn Vampires are not even as strong as the Blood Vultures, who have been led by women for generations and are incapable of guarding the rich lands of the night.

Doesn’t that impress you?

An opportunity to rival the feats of the King of Bone Biters is at hand”

“But I am in no hurry.”

The great king of Kenpot who was chewing on the fresh meat rolled his eyes, a jackal who could make such a humanized expression was honestly very surprising to the point of being shocked.

But as a hunting priest, it really had enough intelligence to be able to understand what this vampire in front of him was trying to say, and to be able to think about what kind of results would be triggered if he followed his compulsion.

And so Kenport let out the characteristic, sneer-like odd scoff of a jackal.

It said:

“I have ‘friends’, and my ‘friends’ will bring enough food for the pups under my command, after all, that is what we agreed upon in the first place, don’t you think? Lord Corando.”

“Hmph.”

The vampire whose name was called grunted.

He hid his entire being in a mist of shadows so that he wouldn’t be seen face to face by the jackal warlord in front of him, but in the face of this jackal’s shameless claim, the leader of the Grayclaw faction of the Wolfsbane Clan refuted it without mercy.

He chided:

“My pact with you was based on the fact that you would definitely attack the remnants of the Blood Vulture Clan, but you don’t even intend to fulfill the pact now, so why should I continue to provide you with enough food?

In order to provide you with these things, my tiny fiefdom in the Cato region is starting to suffer from a famine.

I’ve even sent my servants to help you convince more jackals to join you, and you owe it to me to have so many barbarian soldiers under your command!
Kenport!
If it weren’t for me, you’d still be in the Andromeda Hills guarding your pathetic little clan waiting for ‘opportunity’ to come along, and I’ll tell you mercilessly that the opportunity you’re waiting for will never come.

I don’t ask you beasts to learn gratitude, but you should have a little virtue in honoring your contract.”

“You’re threatening me?”

Kenport bared his teeth in displeasure, the teeth that had just eaten the delicious fresh meat covered in blood stains. It loved venison and loathed human flesh and blood.

It didn’t find human meat to be good, fishy tasting and stuffy.

The jackal warlord’s hand had gripped the three-headed flail at his side, which in jackal culture was basically a sign of a breakdown in negotiations.

“Think for yourself!

All I have to do is cut off your support, and your massive army will fall apart in less than five days! That’s right, I’m threatening you, Kenport.

I don’t mind paying to keep you.

But you’ve got to come up with something real to show me that my money spent is of some use, and I can still hear a ring when I throw it in the water.”

Corando didn’t bother to say anything more to this smart but not smart enough jackal warlord.

He knew that Kenpot must have come to Transylvania because the chief of the Bite Bone Clan had given it a secret mission, but the Wolfsbane Vampire didn’t care about the mission of the jackal in front of him, he also had his own goals and objectives.

Old Edward was already wary of the extremely rapidly expanding Grayclaw Clan and had begun to use several other factions to suppress their young but vibrant faction.

The old ones are reluctant to cede the territory and power in their hands, and the ambitious Corando will have to show his ambition in front of the clan’s eyes if he wants to gain more of Midnight’s blessing.

Therefore, the Blood Wyvern Clan, which the old Edward himself had set up a bit but failed to solve, was an excellent target.

If Corando was able to personally destroy the Wolfsbane Clan’s enemy of more than a hundred years, then his reputation would reach a peak, and he could even fight Old Edward head on.

Grey Claw leader Moriarty Corlando Gonzalo didn’t care about any old vampire traditions!
He came from the underbelly of the island of Greeney like many of the Descendants of the Wolfsbane, and while still a human he had already mastered the dark areas of a small town, and when the human godfather turned vampire, how could his ambitions stop at the head of a district faction?

On top of that, he has a personal vendetta against the Blood Vulture Clan.

His most prized heir, Jopan Mackenzie, died at the hands of a member of the Blood Vultures, and Jopan was more than just a subordinate he trained with care.

He was also his illegitimate human son.
Whether as a qualified leader or as an unqualified father, Corando has enough reasons to personally accomplish his revenge against the Blood Vulture.

“Seven days!”

Corandor rose in the midnight shadows and spoke to Kenport, who bared his teeth:

“Within seven days you must launch a decent attack, otherwise let’s split up, you jackals, that’s all you’ve got. If you can’t even defeat the Scarlet Fortress, what else can I expect you to do?”

After saying that, Corando disappeared in front of the Jackal Warlord’s eyes with a posture that could be described as arrogant.

This was Wolfsbane’s style, simple, direct and weighty.

After all, their original sin is “fear”, and they pride themselves on mastering it and projecting it to others.

They pride themselves on mastering fear and projecting it onto others. Ruthlessness is their virtue, and they have a tradition of leaving no stone unturned.

They are thugs, and they honor thuggery by acting as thugs, hungry wolves in the middle of the night, who see those who are afraid as a delicious blood meal.

Unfortunately as old Edward commented, Corando was too focused on immediate gain, too much on the short and brutal and lacking in some prudent thinking, he didn’t realize that there were highs and lows among the jackals and the one in front of him, Kenport, was clearly different from the rest of the jackals.

In the end, Corando, who had only been transformed thirty years ago, hadn’t really experienced the Black Plague in a meaningful way.

His body had already become a Wolfsbane, however, his knowledge of the world seemed to be still stuck in the time when he was a human godfather, and the story that was feared by countless people and had already happened four times on the continent was just an old legend to him, and he didn’t have a qualified knowledge of the destructive power that Jackals could cause and the threat that the truly powerful individuals among them possessed.

Just as a normal person would never fear ants, when countless ants gather, even the strongest person would be nothing more than struggling food.

This cognitive error alone was fatal!

As for the power of fear that Mr. Corando had shown so far, if he wanted to make a jackal from the Bone Biting Clan bow down, it seemed that he was still a little bit short of the mark.

(End of chapter)