“I’ll just take one bite…”
“It won’t hurt much…”
Her lips pressed against Yize’s ear, her hot breath blowing into it.
Sharp teeth had already touched the skin of his neck. The cold, piercing sensation made Yize’s hairs stand on end.
But he didn’t move.
He just stared blankly at the Riya above him, who seemed almost completely unfamiliar, his mind racing.
Bart’s voice came from the side, carrying a blood race’s keen judgment of their kind’s state:
“Judging by her appearance, she hasn’t fed for a long time. Right now, her rationality is being dominated by her bloodline instincts.”
Hearing this, Yize suddenly understood.
No wonder.
No wonder someone with Riya’s strength—that terrifying power capable of sweeping through eight Blood Pillars alone—had been captured by a place like the Ten Holy Temples.
He had thought it was strange before. Even if the Ten Holy Temples had hidden reserves and methods to suppress the blood race, they shouldn’t have subdued a pureblood that easily.
Sigh.
So this was a weakened period.
Blood races needed regular feeding to maintain their power, especially purebloods.
Long periods without feeding would lead to declining strength, blurry rationality, and instinct taking over.
Riya had been in continuous combat in Betty Territory, then directly escorted to the Ten Holy Temples for trial… How long had it been since she’d properly fed?
A month?
Two months?
Yize didn’t know.
But he could feel that the Riya pressed against him now was like a traveler who had trekked too long through the desert, finally seeing an oasis—and he was that oasis.
“Heh… heh…”
Riya’s breathing grew faster and faster.
Her nose rubbed back and forth against Yize’s neck, taking deep breaths. Her face showed a mix of intoxication and pain.
Yize could feel her teeth pressing slightly harder. The sharp tips had already pierced the outermost layer of skin—but only the outermost, not even a drop of blood seeping out.
Her body was trembling. That trembling transmitted to Yize, stirring a complex emotion in his heart.
Sympathy.
Yes, sympathy.
This girl, who would fight the world for him, was now enduring this inhuman torment because of his negligence—because he hadn’t realized her needs sooner, because he hadn’t been there when she needed him.
“Hey,”
Bart spoke tentatively, his voice cautious,
“Should I go grab a noble?”
He paused, then added:
“In this state, a blood race has lost control. It’s easy for them to drain their prey dry.”
Before he finished speaking.
Riya didn’t even turn her head.
She just waved a hand lightly—not deliberately, just an impatient, instinctive wave.
Blood-red energy surged out like solid tide, slamming hard into Bart.
“Bam!”
Bart’s large body flew backward like a kite with a broken string, smashing into a stone pillar ten meters away before barely stopping.
Stones flew, dust scattered. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, struggled to his feet, his face full of shock.
He hadn’t been unprepared.
But the speed, power, and precision of that strike completely exceeded his understanding of a “blood race out of control.”
“Get lost.”
Riya’s voice was as cold as a blade. She didn’t even bother looking back at Bart.
“How annoying.”
Her attention was entirely focused on Yize. Her scarlet eyes stared unblinkingly at the skin on his neck, where everything she craved lay.
“I’m not drinking the blood of those filthy nobles.”
These words were spoken softly, but carried a stubborn persistence bordering on obsession.
Yize was stunned.
This… didn’t seem like a weakened period.
A blood race in a weakened period would have declining strength, blurry rationality, and instincts taking over—yes—but the power Riya had just shown was clearly stronger than when she was in Betty Territory!
And what she said, her expressed preferences, her obsession with “I only want your blood”…
This was more like a rampage period.
But a blood race in a rampage period would completely lose reason, becoming a beast that only knew killing and feeding.
Yet Riya clearly still had reason—she knew who Bart was, knew what she was doing, and could even express disgust for “filthy noble blood.”
Sigh.
What state was this exactly?
Bart clutched his chest, his mouth twitching in pain.
He staggered to his feet, looking at Riya with disbelief.
“What the hell…”
He muttered,
“Am I interfering with you two lovebirds? I was being nosy, huh?”
But the next second, his expression turned serious.
“Still, this is the first time I’ve seen a blood race that hasn’t fed for so long maintain this level of reason while being consumed by bloodline desire.”
Not far away, No.3, who had been silently observing, spoke. His voice was calm and analytical:
“She’s an ancient pureblood, not like us new-generation blood races. It’s not that easy for her to completely lose control.”
His gaze shifted between Riya and Yize, a thoughtful glint in his eyes.
“A pureblood’s instincts are stronger, but the foundation of reason is also deeper. Especially…”
He paused,
“Especially when she has some powerful obsession that surpasses instinct.”
Obsession.
The word struck Yize’s heart like a hammer.
He looked at Riya.
At this moment, Riya’s ruby-like eyes reflected only him—completely, utterly, unreservedly only him.
“Yize…”
Riya’s voice softened, carrying a tearful edge, like a wronged child.
“I’ll just take one bite, drink a little, I won’t drain you dry.”
She was still restraining herself.
Even though instinct was roaring to tear apart reason, even though hunger was burning to incinerate everything, she still restrained herself—because she was afraid of hurting him, afraid of losing him, because he was Yize.
Yize’s heart clenched.
He raised his hand—steady—and gently touched Riya’s cheek.
Her skin was burning hot, her tears warm.
“It’s okay.”
Yize said, his voice soft but clear enough for everyone in the tribunal hall to hear.
He raised his other hand as well, cupping Riya’s face, making her look into his eyes.
“I have enough blood vessels. Suck a little more, it’s fine.”
He said this calmly, as if stating the simplest fact.
But he knew what it meant.
Blood races easily lost control when feeding—especially those starved for a long time.
Once they bit into a blood vessel, the moment blood rushed into their throat, instinct would completely take over, draining the prey dry.
Yize wasn’t unaware of the risk.
But he knew even better that if he pushed Riya away now, if he said “no,” if he rejected her in any way—the damage to this girl would be ten thousand times worse than losing too much blood.
Besides, he wasn’t completely unprepared.
In his magic ring, there were still plenty of recovery potions.
Even if he lost blood, as long as he still had breath, he could recover in minutes.
As a man, if I can’t even feed my own wife, how can that be?
This thought flashed through Yize’s mind with a bizarre but deadly serious sense of responsibility.
When Riya heard his words, her pupils dilated slightly.
Something in those scarlet eyes melted—the last line of defense, the last hesitation, the last fear of “I’m afraid to hurt you.”
She looked at Yize for a long, long time.
Then she lowered her head, leaning close to his neck.
Her movements were gentle, slow, as if afraid to disturb something.
Her lips touched his skin, warm and soft.
Her teeth pressed against the position of his carotid artery, the sharp tips sending a cold sensation.
Yize closed his eyes, waiting for the anticipated sting.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The expected moment of teeth piercing skin didn’t come.
Yize only felt a ticklish, wet sensation on his neck—Riya’s lips rubbing, her tongue tentatively licking.
Sigh.
He froze, then understood, a helpless smile spreading across his face.
“Stop messing around, be good.”
He lowered his voice, with a resigned chuckle.
“Just bite already. Stop kissing and licking.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but in the silent tribunal hall, everyone heard it clearly.
“With so many people watching, are you still flirting?”
The moment these words left his mouth, Yize felt Riya’s body stiffen.
She lifted her head.
Those scarlet eyes glared at him, brimming with wet tears—real tears this time, clear, carrying grievance and embarrassment.
Her face reddened at a visible rate, from her cheeks to her ears, even her neck flushing pink.
“Who’s flirting with you…”
She whispered, her voice urgent and aggrieved, still tearful.
Seeing her like this, Yize’s heart melted, but his mouth didn’t let up: “Look at you, aren’t you flirting?”
Riya’s face reddened even more.
She bit her lip, as if struggling with some difficult psychological battle. After a long moment, she finally said in a voice barely audible:
“I can’t… bite through.”
The moment these three words were spoken, an eerie silence fell over the tribunal hall.
Yize blinked: “…Huh?”
Riya lowered her head, not daring to look at him, her voice even quieter: “Your skin. I can’t bite through it at all.”
“I don’t know how you trained your defense.”
In the tribunal hall, deathly silence.
Then—
“Pfft.”
Someone couldn’t help but laugh.
It was Bart—he covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking violently. But when he caught Riya’s icy gaze, he immediately forced himself to stop, his face turning the color of pig liver.
The other Blood Pillars’ expressions were also extremely colorful.
No.1 stared at Yize, his eyes filled with jealousy, fear, and… a trace of reverence he didn’t even want to admit to himself.
For blood races, teeth were the most important feeding tool and also the hardest weapon on their body.
The higher a blood race’s bloodline level, the sharper and harder their teeth.
As an ancient pureblood, Riya’s teeth could theoretically easily bite through 99.999…% of substances in this world.
But now, she said… she couldn’t bite through Yize’s skin?
Bart was dumbfounded. He muttered, “Just how freakish is this kid’s body…”
No.3 looked at the stone pillar that Riya had casually sent Bart flying into.
With Riya’s bloodline level and combat performance, she was clearly far superior to them Blood Pillars.
They, the new-generation blood races, were already naturally suppressed by purebloods—a gap engraved in their bloodline, impossible to cross.
But even Riya couldn’t break through Yize’s defense…
Yize realized it belatedly.
Damn.
Why didn’t I think of this?
Ever since he’d crossed into this world, under the System’s “help,” his strength, speed, magic, defense… had all been randomly increasing.
In that first year, he’d still get injured and bleed from training, accidents, and various reasons.
But as his stats gradually increased, he hadn’t suffered any external injuries since.
Not just external injuries—not even scratches or cuts.
Over time, he’d almost forgotten what “bleeding” felt like.
He’d just confidently declared he’d feed Riya, only to find he couldn’t squeeze out a single drop of blood?
What was this?