"Are you satisfied now? Does looking at him like this make you happier than yesterday when you scalded me with a burning hot stick?"
Gideon Larkin stood aside, his ice-blue eyes filled with fury.
Yet because of the contract suppression, he dared not move, even unable to step closer.
His fingers twitched spasmodically, clenched so tightly that the wounds on his arm were pulled, instantly splitting open as fresh blood trickled down his palm.
Evan Orwell's eyelashes quivered slightly, his silver-white hair draped, covering most of his face, yet the taut lines of his jaw were still evident.
He and Isaac Vaughn were the closest, both specially "cared for" by the original host.
The midnight screams, the smell of potions, the clashing of metal instruments, had long etched into his nightmares.
Watching Isaac Vaughn's appearance, Kaelan Hawthorne's mocking smile finally couldn't hold anymore.
Seraphina Caldwell pinched her thumb web forcefully, using pain to compel herself into calmness.
"I know you hate me," she said.
Pausing, she lifted her eyes, directly meeting each of their gazes.
"It's not my intention to forcibly contract with you all; I will break the contract."
Wyatt Yardley sneered coldly, his dark red eyes glaring at her fiercely.
"Saying that now, do you think we would believe you? You ignored us before, but now suddenly you talk about terms. How can anyone be sure you're not playing us?"
Seraphina Caldwell didn't retreat, not taking a single step.
"But there's a condition for breaking the contract. I must go to my father before the rainy season, and you have to escort me all the way. Whoever performs well, I will give a drop of blood to them. This is the only chance."
The five males all froze, their pupils suddenly contracting, and they exchanged glances before quickly turning back to Seraphina Caldwell.
"A drop of blood?"
Even Wyatt Yardley's voice trembled, his eyes locked onto Seraphina Caldwell's face.
In this World of Beastfolk, the gender ratio is extremely skewed, with males far more numerous than females, and females are naturally noble in bloodline and hold the highest status.
To become a female's mate, one must take two steps.
The first step is the Blood Covenant: the female drips her blood onto the male's forehead, imprinting a beast mark belonging to her on his body.
Though the female herself cannot transform into a beast, her blood can activate the beast imprint within the male.
Seraphina Caldwell's father is a Scorpion Beastfolk, pure in bloodline, with formidable strength.
Thus, her imprint is a menacing yet graceful black scorpion.
The second step is the true union, when heartbeats synchronize, breaths blend, souls connect.
Only at this step can one be considered truly bonded as mates, bound together, sharing life and death.
The original host of this lifetime, Seraphina Caldwell, intensely loathed these beast husbands her father forcibly arranged, considering them crude, lowly, and unworthy.
Therefore, she only completed the first step of the contract; the Blood Covenant was formed and the imprint appeared, but she never took the second step.
Now, if she wants to break the contract, the only way is for the female to drip her own blood onto the imprint, consecutively ten times, causing the imprint to gradually fade and completely vanish.
But the problem is, this process is extremely painful.
Each drop of blood requires slicing open a finger, letting fresh blood seep out.
And more importantly, breaking the contract must be wholeheartedly willing, without any coercion.
If the heart is not sincere, the blood cannot merge with the imprint, and ten drops will be in vain.
It is precisely because of this that in the entire history of the Beastfolk Race, few females are willing to cut themselves ten times to intentionally break a contract.
It hurts the fingers, harms the heart's blood.
Moreover, once the contract is established, regardless of whether the second step is completed, he can no longer actively harm her.
Otherwise, the imprint would instantly retaliate, causing pain as if thousands of ants were devouring the heart, severing veins, and in severe cases, paralysis on the spot.
There have been ruthless individuals who couldn't bear the torture of being neglected, or out of jealousy and hatred, attempted to gouge out the imprint.
But those who do this rarely survive; forcibly stripping the bloodline imprint equates to tearing the soul, leading to madness at best and sudden death at worst.
Even so, males still strive desperately to become female mates.
Because when they reach adulthood, they experience several mating seasons each year.
During mating, the wild elements within them grow ferociously.
If left unsoothed, reason would be completely consumed, plunging into beastly rage.
If long suppressed without relief, the energy within loses control, eventually causing a fatal explosion, leaving no remains.
Evan Orwell's drooping eyelashes suddenly quivered slightly.
"If you truly wanted to break the contract, you would have done so years ago; why wait until today? What new trick are you playing?"
Evan Orwell is unlike the others.
He was neither forcibly captured nor a prisoner compelled into the Blood Covenant.
It's said he knew the original host since childhood.
As for whether the signing of the master-servant contract back then was willingly, Seraphina Caldwell sifted through every fragment of memory she could find but never found a definite answer.
However, seeing his detached and indifferent attitude now, he should also wish to break free from this bondage, right?
Seraphina Caldwell looked up, quietly gazing at the male before her.
She took a deep breath and said calmly, "I mentioned, my condition is for you to accompany me to meet my father."
After her words fell, she paused and caught a glimpse of Isaac Vaughn's weak aura.
"Evan Orwell, use your spiritual power to heal Isaac Vaughn's wounds. Once you're done, I will give you a drop of blood and break the contract on the spot."
As soon as this statement came out, silence enveloped the surroundings.
It was known that Evan Orwell is a Priest, possessing incredibly rare healing abilities.
But over the years, Seraphina Caldwell had strictly forbidden him from healing anyone.
Whether others or himself.
No matter if wounds festered or fevers persisted, she did not allow him to use his abilities.
And now, she's actively proposing he save someone?
Evan Orwell stood in place, slightly knitting his brows, as a glint flashed in his eyes.
Yet... Isaac Vaughn's injuries indeed wouldn't hold up much longer.
Excessive blood loss had nearly pushed her to the brink of unconsciousness; if not treated soon, she could die tonight.
Rather than watching a companion die, it was better to seize this opportunity, see what scheme Seraphina Caldwell was up to.
Weighing his options for a moment, he advanced, crouching down, extending his slender fingers to gently cover Isaac Vaughn's injured tail.
The tips of his fingers were gradually enveloped in a faint white glow.
This belonged exclusively to the spiritual power of a Yellow Rank Priest.
As he softly chanted ancient incantations, that layer of white light began to slowly penetrate Isaac Vaughn's wound.
The originally grotesque and bloody fissure ceased bleeding at a speed visible to the naked eye, the edges gradually healing, new skin rapidly covering the wound, forming a thin scab.
Isaac Vaughn's tightly closed eyes slightly trembled, his eyelids gently squinted, revealing a faint yet rare expression of relief.
Evan Orwell slowly withdrew his hand, the strand of silver hair on his forehead slightly damp.
Raising his eyes, his gaze coldly landed on Seraphina Caldwell's face.
Seraphina Caldwell bowed her head, her fingertips trembling slightly as she slowly detached the necklace hanging from her neck.
It was an oddly shaped pendant, about the length of an adult finger joint, pointed and sting-like in form.
Its material was indiscernible, neither like metal nor jade, weightily falling into her palm.
This strange item was accidentally found by her father at the edge of the wilderness many years ago.