The mass production of Blood Dew poses absolutely no difficulties.
"Technical difficulties?"
Uphemia repeated the word, her lips slowly curling into a smile devoid of warmth.
That smile was as beautiful as a blooming rose: "It seems you think... Father has been too lenient with you."
Upon hearing the term "Father," Asmond’s expression instantly turned serious.
"Wait, Uphemia, I think there may be some misunderstanding between us..."
The Blood Tear Duke tried to ease the atmosphere, but his words were ruthlessly interrupted by Uphemia.
"There’s no misunderstanding."
The White-haired Witch took out the familiar blood-red dagger from her cloak, without hesitation piercing her own palm in full view of everyone.
Blood immediately gushed forth, but instead of dripping to the ground, it coalesced in the air into a bizarre symbol.
Seeing this familiar summoning ritual, Asmond’s graceful demeanor completely collapsed.
"Wait! Uphemia! We can discuss this! There’s no need to disturb Lord Aiden! Truly, no need!"
The panic was evident in the Blood Tear Duke’s voice for the first time.
He even disregarded his image, turning into a blood shadow to try and halt the summoning ritual.
But it was too late.
The blood-red symbol was fully formed and began spinning at a dizzying speed.
Each rotation tore open a crack in reality, from which maddening whispers gushed forth.
The temperature in the air suddenly plummeted, a malice surpassing imagination began to permeate the space.
Even the Blood Tear Flowers, which thrived on agony, started to wilt as if sensing a terror of a higher order.
From the symbol slowly emerged a massive tentacle made entirely of pure blood.
The tentacle was covered in pulsating veins, with a huge slit eye at the end that drove sanity astray.
When the gaze of the slit eye fell upon Asmond, it paralyzed him as though struck by lightning.
He could feel the blood within him run amok under that gaze, the power that once obeyed his will now completely unresponsive.
"Pathetic... mongrel..."
A deep voice emanated from the tentacle.
The voice carried countless different tones, as if it were a chorus from innumerable throats simultaneously:
"It seems you have forgotten... who it was that dug you out from the decayed soil..."
The consciousness projection of King of Blood, Aiden, descended upon this territory through a blood-borne connection.
Though just a projection, the oppressive aura it exuded was enough to make the entire Crimson Palace tremble.
The network of veins on the walls began to throb violently, as if the entire structure was terrified, its heartbeat racing.
Asmond wanted to speak in his defense, but found he had lost even the ability to articulate.
The power emitted from the spiral slit eye bound each of his cells like invisible chains.
"I remember it very clearly..."
Aiden’s voice continued to echo:
"At that time, you were merely a dying little Blood Race, abandoned by your clan, rotting in the gutter...
It was I who bestowed upon you pure blood, I who taught you the Secret Technique of collecting blood tears, I who helped you establish this beautiful territory..."
The blood tentacle began to slowly move in the air, each movement subtly distorting the surrounding reality.
Asmond could see his past replayed in the air.
Those humiliating memories, those moments of redemption, and the glory earned through countless lives.
"And now, do you dare defy my will?"
The red glow in the spiral eye intensified:
"My faithful servant, do you believe you’ve grown your wings completely?"
"I... I haven’t..."
Asmond finally managed to utter a feeble sound: "Lord Aiden, I never intended to defy your will... This is just a misunderstanding... just..."
"Misunderstanding?"
King of Blood let out a chilling laugh: "Then let’s rectify this beautiful ’misunderstanding’..."
The spiral in the slit eye began to rotate faster, emitting maddening pulses of light.
In an instant, Asmond felt a pain beyond imagination.
It wasn’t physical torment but a more profound soul-rending agony.
He could feel the blood within him start to rage, the power that should obey his will now completely out of control, attacking the Essence of Life indiscriminately.
More terrifying still, he could "see" his blood being slowly reclaimed, like a master retrieving borrowed items from his servant.
"Ahhh—! No! Begging for mercy!"
The Blood Tear Duke let out a heartrending shriek, rolling in agony on the ground.
Blood-red fissures appeared on his skin, from which copious blood gushed forth.
Yet the blood did not spill onto the ground but converged midair into distorted shapes.
Some looked like crying faces, others resembled sinister Demons.
They danced madly in the air, as if mocking their master’s agony.
"Now... tell me..."
Aiden’s voice was akin to a Demon’s whisper, filled with cruel delight: "Do you still think this was just a misunderstanding, my dear servant?"
"No! Not a misunderstanding!"
Asmond shouted desperately:
"I’ve erred! I was completely wrong! It was my arrogance and foolishness that offended you! Please forgive my ignorance! I will immediately prepare Blood Dew! Immediately! I swear!"
"Very well..."
The red light in the spiral slit eye dimmed slightly:
"But merely apologizing is insufficient... You need to prove your loyalty through actions... Wash your sins with blood..."