“This cold sensation…!”

Sigismund—or rather, Lin Jun, who was temporarily controlling this body—pressed his whole body tightly against the cold, rough stone wall, his cheek even slightly distorted from the force.

A look of joy so intense it might make him cry spread across his face, as if he were embracing a treasure lost for years.

Then he extended that vampire crimson tongue and, with a curious, obsessed expression, carefully licked the back of his hand.

“Salty! Hahahahaha!” he burst into uncontrollable laughter that echoed eerily through the vast hall.

You really can’t blame Lin Jun for losing his composure just now.

Three whole years!

For more than three years he had had no sense of taste, no smell, and his sense of touch had been reduced to the bare minimum!

It had been an inhuman existence!

Now he could truly feel the cold wall again, and taste something!

Lick, lick.

Margas trembled and curled up in the darkest corner of the hall, not daring to draw a breath.

He roughly guessed what His Grace’s current condition must be—there was probably a genuine madman occupying the opposite side now!

The body is like an “anchor” and a “permit” for a soul to exist in the world.

Lose your own flesh, and the world will gradually absorb the soul.

Actively abandoning one’s own body to forcibly seize another’s is tantamount to walking straight to death!

What made Margas’s blood run cold even more was the extremely abnormal mental state the other displayed.

It forced him to wonder what exactly that “Otherdream” had connected to.

He was in terrible shape now, exhausted to the bone, and could only clamp down on his breathing, shrink into a ball, and humbly pray that the lunatic would completely ignore his presence…

In fact, for the moment he succeeded.

“Sigismund” bore none of Lin Jun’s usual detection skills; completely immersed in the ecstatic excitement of regaining a flesh-and-blood body, Lin Jun hadn’t noticed the half-dead warlock crouched in the corner.

Lin Jun had only one thought in his head now—seize this body completely!

…

Within the will-space.

Part of Lin Jun’s soul remained stranded here. Although his retreat had been cut off, he did not feel the tearing pain of a divided soul—only that he could not channel more of his soul-power across.

By sensation it was somewhat like an extremely long-distance [Familiar Control].

To the vampire who stubbornly refused to yield his body, Lin Jun, while beating him, kindly advised, “Don’t hold on—let go! I’ll inherit your identity and estate; I’ll live well for you!”

“Also, do you have a wife and children? I’ll take care of them!”

“Drop dead! Drop dead! Drop dead! Drop dead!”

The enormous cyan Pujis unleashed an unrelenting flurry of blows on the blood-clan duke, whose only defense was sheer tenacity.

Watching that vampire-phantom repeatedly rebuilt by astounding willpower despite being barely able to speak, Lin Jun grew increasingly annoyed.

It was even more vexing than when he’d kept poking his little finger back then!

“I worked so hard—why won’t you just die?!”

Fortunately, effort pays off.

Having just been grievously struck by the Abyss, then ripped at the soul level, and now being repeatedly battered in the will-space by the Pujis, even Sigismund’s iron will finally began to falter.

Lin Jun’s sweat and hard work seemed about to yield a reward!

However, that reward was not what he wanted.

As Sigismund’s mind approached collapse, the entire consciousness-space began violently shaking and cracked in countless places.

Lin Jun was horrified to discover he suddenly could no longer control the vampire’s body as he pleased?!

That connection became extremely unstable—intermittent and flickering.

“Why?! Isn’t it supposed to be that if I kill him, this body automatically becomes mine?” Lin Jun was stunned and even felt a bout of panic.

Losing part of his soul was tolerable—he could restore that after some rest. But if this coveted body slipped away, where could he find another?!

The Pujis, which had been pummeling the vampire, turned and with a thud knelt beside Sigismund’s painfully re-forming but increasingly transparent projection.

“Hang on, buddy! You held on for so long—this is just a few light punches from me, don’t go like this!”

“Think of your kids! Think of your wife! If you die, what will they do?!”

“Friend… big bro! I call you big bro! Don’t die, I beg you!”

Still, Lin Jun’s prior sweat and efforts were not in vain—Sigismund truly had been driven to the brink.

Spiritual power leaked from the torn wound of his soul, and the whole projection in the will-space grew ever more transparent.

Sigismund stared at the gigantic Pujis that filled his vision; he could not understand how a creature so ignorant of spiritual knowledge could wield such powerful mental force.

But it didn’t matter—he was about to die.

It was just a pity…

“This way of dying is… truly… stupid…”

“Die? I won’t let you die!” If he had eyes, Lin Jun would be frantic and his eyes would be bloodshot by now.

A tentacle pressed against Sigismund’s wound!

Lin Jun, acting on instinct and past experience, tried an inverse operation though he didn’t know whether it would work.

He actively relinquished the lead over the segment of soul in contact, pressed in to let the other use it to fill the gap.

“Live! You absolutely must live!”

…

Margas dragged himself along the wall and emerged from the dark corner.

Just now the duke had suddenly roared “I won’t let you die!” and then collapsed motionless, lying there a long while.

He fiercely wrestled inside—should he immediately summon the guards now, or risk trying to personally seize this body that seemed occupied by a foreign thing?

After all, his own condition was so bad—drained to the last—that survival itself was barely assured.

While he hesitated, the Sigismund on the ground suddenly opened his eyes! Those blood-red pupils fixed directly on Margas.

Margas’s heart shrank; he forced himself to speak in a dry, hoarse voice: “My lord Duke?”

“It’s me.” That familiar, emotionless tone sounded, and Margas felt an immense relief as if ready to collapse.

He hurried forward and cautiously helped Sigismund to his feet, asking with care, “My lord Duke, your… your condition just now…”

Suddenly Sigismund reached out, grabbed the gaunt warlock’s arm like the sharpest blade, and said while staring him in the face, “Margas, many unexpected things happened. But I know—not all of them were your fault. You… truly did your best.”

“My lord Duke?!” Margas was puzzled.

“But… I’m sorry.”

Before the words finished, Sigismund’s arm became a razor and violently plunged through Margas’s chest, destroying his heart!