The Divine Sword Country was a nation easily overlooked. Michelangelo, however, now commanded attention. His fangs were sharp, and the aura around him had suddenly soared to an immense new height. His current image was that of a vampire.
Everyone was stunned. Everyone knew the legends of vampires, but no one had expected to actually encounter one.
Could it be makeup? Or a magic trick? Hua Shengting, the other foreigners, and Zhao Zetian suddenly had the same thought.
Michelangelo chuckled and leaped, heading straight for the Ex-Mount Lifter. The man crouched down in terror, so a subordinate behind him was caught instead. Michelangelo grabbed him, targeted his neck, and bit down ferociously.
"Ah!"
The subordinate instantly deflated like a punctured ball. His body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground.
Dead!
