The Hypocritical Holy Knight 109 Part 1

Ambrose was in a great mood. He hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time.

When the blood of the Holy Son, filled with the power of light, flowed into his throat, it was like a warm current sweeping over a dry and cracked riverbed, suddenly filling a void that had always been in his heart.

As a race that uses blood as a source of power, he had tasted the blood of almost every creature on the Delan continent.

He had drunk the blood of demon beasts, which was like a burning sensation similar to strong liquor, and drinking too much would cause one's heart to race and lose all reason; he had drunk the blood of ordinary people, and the fact proved that even the blood of ordinary people was just as ordinary, bland and tasteless, and the power it could provide was pitifully small; he had also occasionally tasted the blood of his own kind, which should have a taste similar to green apple wine, very distinctive... Of course, out of curiosity, he had also tried the blood of clergy members, which contained great power, but the smell of light, like a stinky rag, was something he really couldn't come to like.

However, the Holy Son of Light in front of him was an exception.

In Cecil's blood, not only did he not feel the disgusting taste unique to the followers of light, but his taste buds also tasted a sweet milk cake flavor.

This food, which frequently appeared on the afternoon tea tables of noble ladies and misses, he had tried a few pieces out of politeness, but the fact proved that this kind of sickly sweet food was really not to his liking, and unless necessary, he would generally avoid dealing with them.

However, when this flavor appeared in the blood of the Holy Son of Light, it inexplicably seemed exceptionally alluring. When that crimson blood slowly flowed out from the small wounds on Cecil's face, that sweet aroma began to constantly entice him, eventually causing him to lose control of himself for a moment, and he actually bent down and licked the boy's face with his tongue, not minding the filth.

After he licked the last trace of blood from Cecil's face and suddenly came to his senses and realized what he had done, his body froze in place.

Although he had drunk the blood of many creatures, he actually had a very serious cleanliness obsession and paid great attention to dining etiquette, never directly feeding on prey with his teeth and tongue like a mindless beast.

But just now - what did he do?

He licked Cecil's face?

...And it felt pretty good?

Lord Ambrose, a cleanliness freak, fell into deep frustration over his abnormal mentality. He frowned and looked at the Holy Son "quietly" lying on the bed, making a meaningful "tsk" sound.

Because he was a race accustomed to acting in the dark of night, even in the middle of the night, he could clearly see the expression on Cecil's face.

This Holy Son had his brows tightly furrowed, his delicate features slightly distorted, revealing a clear aura of pain between his brows, and his pure black eyes faintly shimmered with tears, very much... arousing the desire of the predator to tear him apart.

His gaze fell on the half-healed wound on Cecil's face.

The wound itself was not large to begin with, and coupled with the Holy Son's own extremely strong self-healing ability, blood no longer flowed from the wound, and it would probably completely disappear in an hour or two.

Such a small wound could be so painful, he was really a delicate child.

When this thought surfaced in his mind, the frustration in his heart was suddenly soothed.

He didn't know what was going on. Originally, he hadn't paid much extra attention to this Holy Son whose head was too simple-minded, completely controlled by the Pope, and destined not to live long, but that day when he kissed the Holy Son's hand at the Advent Festival, he suddenly keenly smelled the sweet fragrance emanating from Cecil's pale blue blood vessels, constantly tempting his taste buds.

This was strange. He had been close to this Holy Son before, but this was the first time he smelled this interesting scent on him.

This strange change made him uncharacteristically choose to stay there after the opening of the festival, observing this Holy Son of Light with interest.

At first, the fragrance was very faint, and he had to carefully sense it to smell a hint of it, but as time passed, it seemed to become more and more obvious and rich, and he could smell that wonderful aroma emanating through flesh without getting close to Cecil.

Moreover, in addition to this, he also unexpectedly gained some interesting little details.

For example, this Holy Son of Light was not as simple-minded and single-minded as he initially thought. Although Cecil concealed it well, he could still see that his body was in a very tense state throughout, harboring a vague sense of wariness towards the Pope and himself.

Like a vigilant little mouse, although his head was very clever, due to being too weak, he could only frantically hop around a couple times when danger approached.

Just like now, this little mouse must be filled with fear in his heart over the things he had just done to him, but could only lie on the bed and let him do as he pleased.

He reached out his hand again, bent his knuckles, and slowly rubbed the Holy Son's smooth face, carefully feeling that delicate touch.

This little one was really too delicate and intolerant of pain. He was a man of principles. Although he lived on blood, he had no pleasure in abuse and killing, and did not want to see the prey's face covered in tears and snot, in a miserable state.

That would affect his appetite.

This little one's face was really cold. Looking at that dazed look in his eyes, he must have been scared out of his wits by him, this terrifying, evil, blood-drinking monster.

......

However, what he didn't know was that He Yan was not frightened by the terrifying, evil, and blood-drinking red-eyed monster. He was just quietly lost in thought.

Actually, the moment he met those blood-colored eyes, he guessed that Ambrose was probably his lover in this life.

In the original plot, Ambrose had not shown any special interest in Cecil. His efforts were focused on the confrontation with the Pope and the King of Delan, and he had no interest in paying attention to a small fry like him.

So, the only reason that could suddenly change the other party's temperament and make him do things completely inconsistent with the original plot was that Ambrose was also an outsider.

And the moment his spiritual power touched the other party, he completely confirmed the guess in his heart.

That feeling was too familiar. Even if it was only a 0.1 second touch, he could easily distinguish the aura belonging to his lover.

Fortunately... he followed him over.

This huge stone that had been hanging in He Yan's heart was finally completely put down.

Immediately after, he couldn't help but ponder what method this person had used to follow him over, after all, with his lover's identity in the previous life, it was basically impossible for him to die a natural death...

Because he was too absorbed in thinking about his previous life, He Yan was immersed in his own thoughts and didn't pay attention to the blood elf in front of him for a moment.

The blood elf stroked his face with his knuckles from time to time, then looked at the little prey under his hand whose eyeballs hadn't moved for a long time and finally realized that something was wrong.

...Was he really scared silly?

It shouldn't be that bad.

In any case, he was the Holy Son of Light who had even killed demon beasts before, and he was just frightened to the point where his eyes couldn't move just because of a small wound on his face?

Thinking this way, his movements paused for a moment, and he pinched the chin of the person whose eyes were dull with a little force.

The little mouse had his chin twisted by him, only then did he seem to suddenly break out from his daze, his black eyeballs rolled around, and met his gaze.

In these eyes that were as transparent as black agate, he saw his own reflection—

It was indeed an extremely horrifying face, with the features concealed by secret techniques, turning into a blurry black mist, with only two blood-red beast pupils that exuded a cold and evil aura clearly reflected in them.

If one didn't look at his human-shaped body, anyone who saw such a face would probably be greatly frightened.

If their endurance was a little worse, they might even faint directly.

His face suddenly sank, and he pinched this person's chin with slightly rough movements, turning his face away, unwilling to see his own horrifying reflection in those pure black eyes that seemed to be soaked in morning dew.

Although He Yan couldn't see his face clearly, he also felt his mood that had suddenly turned bad for some unknown reason from this person's sudden movements.

Perhaps it was because his emotions were unstable, he felt that the suppression from Ambrose on his body had lessened, so he took this opportunity to raise a hand and gripped it with difficulty on Ambrose's wrist.

—This posture of having his neck twisted was really too unfriendly to his cervical spine!

Ambrose wanted to slap away the hand of this person gripping his own hand, but that slender wrist looked too fragile, the skin was transparent under the moonlight, and the light blue blood vessels were very conspicuous, as if one could see the trajectory of blood flowing in them. He was very certain that as long as he squeezed it lightly, this person's wrist would make a crisp "click"—and then break cleanly.

So he hesitated for a moment, and still didn't slap that hand away, and even reduced the force of pinching the Holy Son's chin, allowing him to turn his face back to face him.

He Yan turned his face back, his pale lips parted slightly, and finally said the first sentence since the two met tonight: "...Who are you?"

A very standard opening line of conversation between a victim and a perpetrator.

Although he already knew the identity of the person in front of him because of his own cheat, Ambrose deliberately concealed his face with magic, obviously in order to hide his identity as the Commander of the Holy Knights, and didn't want him to know.

He hadn't figured out Ambrose's personality yet, so he could only go along with his intentions for now and pretend he didn't know anything.

—The lover in this world seemed to be very difficult to get along with.

Okay, he wasn't just seemingly difficult to get along with; he really was. Objectively speaking, this blood elf's character was so bad that it was unbearable to mention.

The blood elf with a bad character didn't answer this question that was like nonsense, nor did he pay attention to the hand that the Holy Son was still gripping his wrist with. Instead, he let go of his chin, slid his fingertips down, and rubbed his Adam's apple with his knuckles.

The throat was the most fragile part of almost all creatures in the Delan Continent except for the heart. Under this thin skin, there were a fragile trachea and arteries surging with a large amount of blood. Once this place was grabbed by someone, it was basically equivalent to having one's life in someone else's hands.

The human Adam's apple was so sensitive and fragile that he only lightly poked it a couple of times with his knuckles, and this poor little prey could only roll his Adam's apple up and down, unable to control swallowing his saliva.

He became interested, retracted his somewhat sharp claws, pressed his index finger and thumb on that small Adam's apple, and gently pinched—

Then he heard a small, lovely gasp, and the hand gripping his wrist suddenly tightened, and the originally very pale knuckles showed a few degrees of transparency due to the force.

He almost fell in love with this interesting little game.

However... Ambrose let go regretfully.

If it weren't that the little prey was deliberately raised into a delicate package by the pope and really couldn't stand a bit of pain, he could have played for a while longer with great interest.