Crimson blood gushed from Zhao Kongcheng's abdomen, soaking his dark red Cloak, dripping one drop after another onto the ground and staining it scarlet.
To a Strigoi, an ordinary mortal of flesh and blood was merely meat to be crushed at will.
Yet, rather than ending Zhao Kongcheng's life cleanly, the Strigoi withdrew its blood-soaked palm with a bloodthirsty smile.
Chapter 104