The elite action team assembled by Frank was no weaker than America's top-tier special forces.
Against the Irish Mob, it was a one-sided massacre.
Everywhere Ryan passed, corpses littered the floor — Irish gangsters torn apart by precise gunfire and brutal close-quarters combat.
However, something strange soon caught his attention.
The blood flowing from the fallen mobsters wasn't pooling naturally — instead, it was being drawn by some invisible force, trickling along a complex, rune-like pattern toward the second basement of the Green Hat Nightclub.
A deep crimson glow pulsed from below, staining the walls like veins of living blood.
Within that blood-soaked chamber, a thick crimson mist coiled around the air like living serpents.
Frank and his men stood motionless, trapped in place, their bodies wrapped in faint golden light — unharmed, yet completely immobilized.
And in the deepest part of that hellish space stood a massive blood altar.
Fourteen vampires were chained upon it, their bodies drained and twitching, serving as unwilling sacrifices.
"Daywalker, Willis Snipes… the Thirteen Pureblood Clans…" Ryan murmured, frowning. "Quite the lineup. So who's behind this little show?"
As his voice echoed, the phantom image of the Pure Yang Golden Bell manifested behind him, humming with divine resonance.
Its light washed through the bloody mist, instantly purifying it and freeing Frank and the others from its grasp.
The team quickly regrouped behind Ryan.
Frank's face was grim. "Boss, I've failed you."
Ryan waved him off. "Forget that. Tell me what's going on."
Frank clenched his fists. "It's Deacon Frost — the one backing the Irish Mob. He's a hybrid vampire. He captured the Daywalker and representatives of the Thirteen Pureblood Clans ahead of time."
"He's using our assault tonight to harvest enough blood and souls to perform a ritual. He's trying to summon the Blood God's descent… Deacon Frost wants to become the Blood God."
Ryan followed Frank's gaze toward the altar. Above it, suspended in the crimson light, a shadowy figure was forming — its presence filled with demonic malice and murderous intent.
It all made sense now.
The sacrifices — the purebloods, the Daywalker born of a vampire's curse, and the endless tide of slaughtered souls — all of it was designed to draw the gaze of a Blood Lord from the Hell Dimension.
If the ritual succeeded, that power could manifest a Blood God in the mortal world.
Ryan clicked his tongue. "Tsk, ambitious bastard. I'll give him that."
If not for the Demon Suppressing Talismans he had branded on his men beforehand, Frank's team would've been completely consumed by this infernal space.
Frank turned to Ryan. "Boss, should we just blow the place up?"
He was already producing a satchel of high-yield explosives from his gear.
Ryan's brow twitched. He knew those explosives — Sullivan Family-grade military TNT.
One detonation could level ten Green Hat Nightclubs easily.
If Frank actually went through with it, they'd all be on America's most wanted list by sunrise.
"Relax," Ryan sighed. "We're not blowing up Manhattan tonight."
Because within that blood-soaked altar… he sensed an opportunity.
A memory from the Luofu World resurfaced — one that matched this situation almost perfectly.
Within that realm existed a demonic sect known as the Asura Blood Evil Sect, infamous for a forbidden weapon-forging method: the Blood Transformation Demon Blade.
The process was unspeakably cruel.
Forty-nine pregnant women born in Yin year, month, and day were infected with blood poison. Their souls would be extinguished, their fetuses nourished solely by the blood of the mothers.
The children — Yin-born by nature — were raised on the Asura Battlefield, bathing in endless slaughter until their very souls reeked of malice.
When they matured, their bodies were flayed, their Evil Qi refined into blood essence, and that blood was used to forge the blade embryo.
What emerged was a weapon of pure destruction — a Blood Transformation Demon Blade, capable of slaying both Immortals and Gods.
Ryan's eyes glimmered coldly.
The Twelve Divine Bone Fiends of Yuanchen were tools of defense and survival. But the Blood Transformation Demon Blade... it was slaughter incarnate.
And right now, the conditions were perfect.
The Daywalker, Willis, was the ultimate Yin-born vessel.
His mother had been infected with vampirism during pregnancy.
The result was a being neither human nor vampire — immune to sunlight, overflowing with innate blood Evil Qi.
Years of hunting vampires had only deepened that murderous aura.
Now, his blood was being twisted and tainted by the Hell Dimension's altar.
The right time, the right place, and the right sacrifice.
If Ryan didn't use this to refine a Blood Transformation Demon Blade, he'd be wasting divine fate itself.
"Abort the explosion," Ryan said firmly. "Everyone, fall back. I'll handle this."
Though Frank didn't fully understand, he obeyed immediately, leading the action team out.
Once the space was clear, Ryan let out a slow breath. The ritual he was about to perform wasn't something mortals should witness.
He raised his hand, and his Divine Sense surged outward, annihilating the lingering souls and resentments within the chamber, refining them into pure demonic essence.
Then, the Pure Yang Golden Bell descended once more, sealing the space and freezing time itself.
"What a waste... what a terrifying waste," Ryan muttered, gazing at the struggling figure of the Daywalker.
With his soul tethered to the Hell Dimension, even if he lived, the Daywalker would become a ticking bomb.
"For the sake of humanity," Ryan whispered, "you'll serve a greater purpose."
With a flick of his wrist, the Pure Yang Golden Bell rang out. The pureblood vampires chained upon the altar disintegrated instantly, their essence refined into raw blood power that surged into the Daywalker's body.
Runes of demonic power — 129,600 in total — ignited one by one, fusing with every drop of his blood.
The Daywalker screamed, his veins glowing crimson as the runes merged into his essence.
Moments later, a crimson blade light formed within the void — sharp, bloodthirsty, and alive.
Ryan lifted his hand, drawing in seventy percent of the Hell Dimension's bloody Evil Qi, feeding it all into that embryonic blade.
The ritual had begun.
The Blood Transformation Demon Blade was being born.