「Four hundred years ago, the New World.」

Under the gloomy sky dome, a dim light fell through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the churning grey waves in front of the rocks.

Numerous sharp rocks jutted haphazardly from the coast towards the sky, edged like blades, relentlessly slicing the rushing waves. Amongst the broken waves, bent rails surfaced alongside charred sails, and countless shattered debris washed onto the shore, half-buried in the gravel. Much more was taken away again by the waves, disappearing into the deep sea.

In the silence, a gaunt figure stood quietly on the shore, like a statue, silently waiting. His features were not easily discerned, for his beauty was such that the light of this world could not illuminate it. Nor could one grasp the nature of his robes, for they were too grand for eyes to bear. The only thing generously revealed between sea and sky was the stern and majestic White Crown upon his head. It was like Truth, like a miracle, like all things wondrous and unfathomable. It was there, in undeniable reality. Thus, everything else seemed like an illusion before it, forced to meekly admit their insignificance and humility.

In what seemed like eternal waiting, the King of White Crown stood in silence at the edge of the ocean, quietly gazing into the distance. He watched countless ships navigate the towering waves, heard countless people chanting his name, and witnessed countless desperate cries or devout prayers. Yet he did not reach out to aid them for their devotion, nor did he deliver punishment for their defiance and arrogance. Only waiting.

Within the murky waves, a few broken skiffs stumbled forward, awkwardly crawling to the shoreline. The pale-faced shipwrecked clung to the rocks in front of them, clambering over the sharp edges, allowing their bodies to be sliced open, gasping with difficulty. They looked back in desolation. The massive fleet hung motionless upon the water, with raging fires burning vigorously. Terrible screams and wails persisted for a long, long time, until everything had sunk into the storm just a step away from salvation.

The aged survivors bowed their heads, turbid tears streaming down their faces from behind speckled white hair, yet they dared not look again. Instead, they bowed their heads, knelt in the turbulent waves, and devoutly prostrated themselves, crawling forward inch by inch to lay themselves at the feet of the Supreme Being.

"Please have mercy, Supreme Owner of the White Crown…"

The tear-streaked Leader looked up, begging for God's grace.

So, the White Crown King looked down, yet his calm eyes remained undisturbed. "Peter of the Campbell Clan, Simon of the Luo Su Clan, Garcia of the Jackson Clan, Hayward of the Cape Clan…" Thereupon, he named each prostrate figure, and the Supreme Being inquired softly, "Why have you come?"

"To attend court and offer tribute."

The elder prostrated himself once more, his tears falling into the gravel, silently melting. "We… we wish to offer you everything, all that is ours… Great Supreme King, all our clans have come, offering all we possess, but now… but now… Aside from the treacherous Helsing Clan, who have become the dogs of the gods, our sixteen vampire clans—hundreds of elites and thousands of our kin, fortunes and estates accumulated over thousands of years—all of it is lost. Everything has been buried by the wrath of the gods in this cruel storm…" He said, "Now, apart from our fourteen lives, we have nothing left to offer you."

In the silence, the White Crown King listened indifferently but did not speak. Only the elders lay trembling on the ground, humbly prostrating themselves and begging.

Until he spoke, "Then offer a sacrifice."

The Leader froze. Then, as if pardoned, he turned and gestured to those behind him. Thereupon, someone crawled forward on their knees, holding a small swaddled bundle, and placed the deep-sleeping baby at the feet of the Pure White Owner. In deep sleep, the tiny infant sweetly sucked its finger, as if immersed in a blissful dream.

The elders raised their heads expectantly, looking up at the White Crown King's face. They disregarded the stern majesty that stung their eyes as bloody tears slowly flowed.

After a long while, the White Crown King nodded slightly. "Acceptable."

Thus, the elders smiled as if liberated, bowing reverently before the Supreme King, praising his benevolence and grace.

The Leader at the forefront drew a sharp knife from his robes, lifted it devoutly, and plunged it into his chest. Blood flowed out. He closed his eyes in contentment, passed the hilt to the person behind him, and then silently turned to ash.

Then the second elder came forward, prostrated himself, offered his blood, and dissipated in the wind.

One by one.

Finally, the last one, an old woman, plunged the blood-soaked blade into her heart, but merciless death did not come. She froze for a moment, then, terrified, stabbed herself again, yet her life still lingered.

"Do not be frightened. Your sacrifice, I have accepted it," the White Crown King instructed calmly. "One day, I will come to collect it from you, but not now." He said, "You have a more important mission. You must continue to exist."

"Immensely honored… Please bestow your revelation."

Amidst such blessing and generosity, the old woman shed tears of gratitude, prostrating herself devoutly, awaiting the King's decree.

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