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Chapter 28: Deacon Frost
The curious onlookers were very enthusiastic, urging John one after another, "What kind of feud or grievance is this? As long as you talk it out, anything can be resolved. Don't always resort to violence; it damages goodwill."
Even the strong man who had previously harbored ill will towards Tony stepped forward, speaking from personal experience, attempting to mediate between the two parties: "What's the big deal? Isn't it just a small grudge? Look at me, two months ago the Irish Gang was still brawling with the North Irish Gang, and last month we united with them to take on the Scottish Gang..."
The strong man was shrewd; he understood that anyone capable of confronting the mechanic was certainly no ordinary person. Seeing the tense atmosphere, he stepped forward to mediate, giving both sides a graceful exit. Perhaps he could establish a connection with one of the parties and strike it rich.
The strong man continued to persuade them: "So, don't always resort to violence; there will be plenty of opportunities for cooperation in the future..." He was already fantasizing about a life of luxury in his mind, and his tone was extremely sincere.
Bang!
John finally couldn't hold back anymore. Trembling, he shot the enthusiastic guy in the chest right in front of everyone, a surge of anger almost impossible to suppress.
He, a noble member of the Thompson Family, had been humiliated by a group of Blood Food!
The crowd erupted in chaos. Enraged, they cried out, "Who dares to cause trouble on Irish Gang territory?" But they only clamored; they dared not step forward.
Tony looked at the Vampire before him with a faint, unreadable smile. A Vampire coming to demand someone back and restore family dignity, running over in broad daylight, uttering a couple of threats, and then trying to leave... was he serious or just trying to be funny?
"Speak. Who sent you? Your acting is too poor. If it were me, I'd at least grab this old guy and put on a show." Tony's watch transformed, assembling into a handgun. There was one more thing he didn't say: if John truly tried to seize the person without hesitation, he would immediately kill the Vampire. Any hesitation, on the other hand, would expose that they had a problem.
"Even if you're a Pureblood, if I beat you to a pulp or drag you into the Sunlight, you'll still die."
He was threatening the Pureblood: refusing to speak meant death. Every naturally born Vampire was precious; killing one meant one less.
John's face turned ashen. He realized his mistake; this guy simply didn't play by the rules. He feigned composure and coldly said, "I'm just surprised you're so perceptive; it's different from what the rumors said." As he spoke, he moved to grab the Old Bartender.
A flicker of panic flashed in the Old Bartender's eyes, but he still tried hard to act, pretending to be eager to be taken away.
Tony stood there, unmoved, simply watching the Vampire seize the person. In reality, the Allspark in his mind had long been constantly leaping and flashing with light, and the phone and watch on his body were already restless, ready to erupt and attack at any moment.
John's face was extremely grim. Biting the bullet, he grabbed the Old Bartender and prepared to leave. He was in an awkward predicament, unable to back down. He couldn't care less about anything else; if he delayed any longer, he wouldn't even be able to save his own life.
"If you just leave like that, how will you complete your mission? Won't your objective remain unfulfilled?" Tony said slowly, twirling the handgun in his hand. "You don't want me to hand over the Old Bartender; you want me to keep fighting the Vampires in a never-ending struggle. Otherwise, there'd be no need for all this trouble. The Old Bartender is far from me; you could have completely controlled him before talking to me."
John Thompson was covered in sweat. He said angrily, "Are you trying to trick me? Do you really want to declare war on us?!"
He said this, but the guy in front of him really would kill him; he wasn't ready to die yet. He glanced around, looking for a convenient escape route.
The Old Bartender grimaced. He was now entirely in the Vampire's hands, a humiliated Hostage. Following this old fox's style, he would never let himself be in such a dangerous situation. He looked pitifully at Tony, crying out for Tony to save him, pleading not to be tricked.
John, filled with anger, went up and punched the Old Bartender, smashing his head.
"Who exactly is the person behind you? Tell me, and I'll let you go. If you don't, I'll beat you to death. After all, you're nothing but a Pawn; otherwise, you wouldn't have been sent to negotiate with me. With even a slight oversight, you'll be beaten to death by me."
Tony turned the muzzle, pointing it at John, while the other Vampires also drew their guns, pointing them at Tony. The two sides stood off, neither yielding. Tony mocked John, asking why a mere Pawn like him was so loyal, promising to let him go immediately if he revealed who was behind the scenes.
John's expression kept changing, weighing the pros and cons in his mind. Finally, he gritted his teeth and uttered a name.
Deacon Frost, a Half-blood Vampire.
"A great family like the Thompsons, with a legacy spanning thousands of years, actually working for an acquired Half-blood Vampire? Aren't you ashamed?" Tony scoffed sarcastically. He mocked the Thompsons, saying that this generation had utterly lost all the dignity of Purebloods. Their nobility was thrown to the ground, covered in dust, and as worthless as trash.
John gritted his teeth and remained silent. His subordinates, however, were extremely furious, almost unable to resist opening fire.
Tony looked thoughtful. If Deacon was the one directing them, then it was no surprise.
This Deacon guy was a famously madman and ambitious schemer in the Vampire world. He transformed into a Vampire later in life yet quickly climbed to a high position, second only to the highest-ranking Thirteen Clans. He was a true legend, and for low-ranking Vampires, he was a rich bowl of inspirational chicken soup, so nutritious it could choke them to death.
But this ambitious schemer, Deacon, chose John Thompson, this young good-for-nothing. Perhaps he was treating John as a Pawn, or perhaps he couldn't fully control the Thompson Family and could only win over a group of minor figures. It could be a mutually beneficial arrangement, or perhaps John and the others were simply offering one-sided allegiance.
The internal struggles of the Vampire Faction were even more intense than he had imagined.
John couldn't withstand the pressure; he wanted to quickly leave with his men. While it was true he came from the Thompson Family, he was merely an expendable figure within it. Now, he began to suspect that Deacon had intentionally thrown him out as a Pawn. He wanted to live; he didn't want to die.
"Kill all the other ordinary Humans, don't let a single one escape!" John gritted his teeth. He had completely lost face and wanted to kill to vent his anger, while also keeping the secret.
The smart ones, seeing that something was wrong, had long since fled. Those ordinary people who stuck around for the spectacle had also heard something incredible, such as keywords like "Vampire."
Many people were confused and bewildered. Their level of exposure wasn't enough to deeply understand the truth of this world; many pieces of information were strictly sealed off by relevant agencies and organizations, unwilling to expose them to ordinary people to avoid causing panic.
But there was one thing they understood: these guys wanted to kill them to silence them.
"Where did this kid come from, so arrogant! I was active in the Underworld before you were even born!" This group of people immediately wouldn't stand for it, grabbing their weapons one after another.
Most of the people who remained had criminal backgrounds; few who came here were clean. Usually, they'd roll up their sleeves and get straight to business, never wasting time chattering with you.
But now their scalps were tingling with dread. No matter how fiercely they shouted, it couldn't hide the fact that these strange guys were capable of confronting the mechanic. Could they really do it?
"Mechanic, please help us! We will repay you!"
The strong man who was shot was not dead yet. He lay on the ground, clutching his wound and howling in pain, appealing to Tony for help, hoping Tony could lend them a hand.
(end of chapter)
The curious onlookers were very enthusiastic, urging John one after another, "What kind of feud or grievance is this? As long as you talk it out, anything can be resolved. Don't always resort to violence; it damages goodwill."
Even the strong man who had previously harbored ill will towards Tony stepped forward, speaking from personal experience, attempting to mediate between the two parties: "What's the big deal? Isn't it just a small grudge? Look at me, two months ago the Irish Gang was still brawling with the North Irish Gang, and last month we united with them to take on the Scottish Gang..."
The strong man was shrewd; he understood that anyone capable of confronting the mechanic was certainly no ordinary person. Seeing the tense atmosphere, he stepped forward to mediate, giving both sides a graceful exit. Perhaps he could establish a connection with one of the parties and strike it rich.
The strong man continued to persuade them: "So, don't always resort to violence; there will be plenty of opportunities for cooperation in the future..." He was already fantasizing about a life of luxury in his mind, and his tone was extremely sincere.
Bang!
John finally couldn't hold back anymore. Trembling, he shot the enthusiastic guy in the chest right in front of everyone, a surge of anger almost impossible to suppress.
He, a noble member of the Thompson Family, had been humiliated by a group of Blood Food!
The crowd erupted in chaos. Enraged, they cried out, "Who dares to cause trouble on Irish Gang territory?" But they only clamored; they dared not step forward.
Tony looked at the Vampire before him with a faint, unreadable smile. A Vampire coming to demand someone back and restore family dignity, running over in broad daylight, uttering a couple of threats, and then trying to leave... was he serious or just trying to be funny?
"Speak. Who sent you? Your acting is too poor. If it were me, I'd at least grab this old guy and put on a show." Tony's watch transformed, assembling into a handgun. There was one more thing he didn't say: if John truly tried to seize the person without hesitation, he would immediately kill the Vampire. Any hesitation, on the other hand, would expose that they had a problem.
"Even if you're a Pureblood, if I beat you to a pulp or drag you into the Sunlight, you'll still die."
He was threatening the Pureblood: refusing to speak meant death. Every naturally born Vampire was precious; killing one meant one less.
John's face turned ashen. He realized his mistake; this guy simply didn't play by the rules. He feigned composure and coldly said, "I'm just surprised you're so perceptive; it's different from what the rumors said." As he spoke, he moved to grab the Old Bartender.
A flicker of panic flashed in the Old Bartender's eyes, but he still tried hard to act, pretending to be eager to be taken away.
Tony stood there, unmoved, simply watching the Vampire seize the person. In reality, the Allspark in his mind had long been constantly leaping and flashing with light, and the phone and watch on his body were already restless, ready to erupt and attack at any moment.
John's face was extremely grim. Biting the bullet, he grabbed the Old Bartender and prepared to leave. He was in an awkward predicament, unable to back down. He couldn't care less about anything else; if he delayed any longer, he wouldn't even be able to save his own life.
"If you just leave like that, how will you complete your mission? Won't your objective remain unfulfilled?" Tony said slowly, twirling the handgun in his hand. "You don't want me to hand over the Old Bartender; you want me to keep fighting the Vampires in a never-ending struggle. Otherwise, there'd be no need for all this trouble. The Old Bartender is far from me; you could have completely controlled him before talking to me."
John Thompson was covered in sweat. He said angrily, "Are you trying to trick me? Do you really want to declare war on us?!"
He said this, but the guy in front of him really would kill him; he wasn't ready to die yet. He glanced around, looking for a convenient escape route.
The Old Bartender grimaced. He was now entirely in the Vampire's hands, a humiliated Hostage. Following this old fox's style, he would never let himself be in such a dangerous situation. He looked pitifully at Tony, crying out for Tony to save him, pleading not to be tricked.
John, filled with anger, went up and punched the Old Bartender, smashing his head.
"Who exactly is the person behind you? Tell me, and I'll let you go. If you don't, I'll beat you to death. After all, you're nothing but a Pawn; otherwise, you wouldn't have been sent to negotiate with me. With even a slight oversight, you'll be beaten to death by me."
Tony turned the muzzle, pointing it at John, while the other Vampires also drew their guns, pointing them at Tony. The two sides stood off, neither yielding. Tony mocked John, asking why a mere Pawn like him was so loyal, promising to let him go immediately if he revealed who was behind the scenes.
John's expression kept changing, weighing the pros and cons in his mind. Finally, he gritted his teeth and uttered a name.
Deacon Frost, a Half-blood Vampire.
"A great family like the Thompsons, with a legacy spanning thousands of years, actually working for an acquired Half-blood Vampire? Aren't you ashamed?" Tony scoffed sarcastically. He mocked the Thompsons, saying that this generation had utterly lost all the dignity of Purebloods. Their nobility was thrown to the ground, covered in dust, and as worthless as trash.
John gritted his teeth and remained silent. His subordinates, however, were extremely furious, almost unable to resist opening fire.
Tony looked thoughtful. If Deacon was the one directing them, then it was no surprise.
This Deacon guy was a famously madman and ambitious schemer in the Vampire world. He transformed into a Vampire later in life yet quickly climbed to a high position, second only to the highest-ranking Thirteen Clans. He was a true legend, and for low-ranking Vampires, he was a rich bowl of inspirational chicken soup, so nutritious it could choke them to death.
But this ambitious schemer, Deacon, chose John Thompson, this young good-for-nothing. Perhaps he was treating John as a Pawn, or perhaps he couldn't fully control the Thompson Family and could only win over a group of minor figures. It could be a mutually beneficial arrangement, or perhaps John and the others were simply offering one-sided allegiance.
The internal struggles of the Vampire Faction were even more intense than he had imagined.
John couldn't withstand the pressure; he wanted to quickly leave with his men. While it was true he came from the Thompson Family, he was merely an expendable figure within it. Now, he began to suspect that Deacon had intentionally thrown him out as a Pawn. He wanted to live; he didn't want to die.
"Kill all the other ordinary Humans, don't let a single one escape!" John gritted his teeth. He had completely lost face and wanted to kill to vent his anger, while also keeping the secret.
The smart ones, seeing that something was wrong, had long since fled. Those ordinary people who stuck around for the spectacle had also heard something incredible, such as keywords like "Vampire."
Many people were confused and bewildered. Their level of exposure wasn't enough to deeply understand the truth of this world; many pieces of information were strictly sealed off by relevant agencies and organizations, unwilling to expose them to ordinary people to avoid causing panic.
But there was one thing they understood: these guys wanted to kill them to silence them.
"Where did this kid come from, so arrogant! I was active in the Underworld before you were even born!" This group of people immediately wouldn't stand for it, grabbing their weapons one after another.
Most of the people who remained had criminal backgrounds; few who came here were clean. Usually, they'd roll up their sleeves and get straight to business, never wasting time chattering with you.
But now their scalps were tingling with dread. No matter how fiercely they shouted, it couldn't hide the fact that these strange guys were capable of confronting the mechanic. Could they really do it?
"Mechanic, please help us! We will repay you!"
The strong man who was shot was not dead yet. He lay on the ground, clutching his wound and howling in pain, appealing to Tony for help, hoping Tony could lend them a hand.
(end of chapter)
