The Memoirs of Cultivating Immortals

Chapter 220
The blood of the gods is running, the ether is mobilized, and the witchcraft wave undoes the constant invisibility spell.

Harry emerged from behind the rock, and red lightning shot out from the tip of the holly wand, hitting the werewolf from a distance.

The effectiveness of the witchcraft was fully demonstrated. The werewolf trembled and convulsed, and he couldn't help but loosen the strength in his hand, releasing the boy.

However, as Li Ang said, the werewolves of Scotland Yard, who have been supplied with divine blood for a long time, have a certain degree of magic resistance, and the power of the witchcraft of "disarm you" is limited to this, failing to cause substantial damage.

All the Scotland Yard police officers turned their heads in unison, looking in the direction of the light.

"wizard?"

The chief police officer grinned, "Food delivered to your door."

The outline of his face became narrow and narrow, his figure suddenly swelled, the police uniform on his body quickly split, jet-black hair jumped out from the cracks in the cloth, and his legs were twisted and crooked, turning into a beast's recurved shape.

After the transformation was completed, these burly werewolves with a height of at least two meters walked towards Harry without haste.

With every step forward, the smoldering blood on their bodies became more intense, and Harry Potter clearly felt that the ether around them began to solidify.

The reason why werewolves are classified as a dangerous species by the Ministry of Magic is because they can form an isolation force field around their bodies, weakening the ability of wizards to call ether.

Can't go on like this.

Harry Potter gritted his teeth and waved his wand. According to the content taught in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he first put a layer of "armor protection" on himself, and then used all the offensive witchcraft he knew.

"All petrified", "Stunned", "Weak Leg Curse".
It's a pity that these colorful witchcraft hit the werewolf's rough skin and thick hair, at most it can only make them stagnate for a moment, just like inferior ink cannot infect lotus leaves, it is useless.

The soles of the werewolf stepped on the soft sand, and between the rabbit's ups and downs, he was already in front of him, and the sharp claws were only able to cut Harry's throat open.

"Apparate!"

With a loud cry, Harry Potter summoned his magic power to cast this highly difficult teleportation spell.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he succeeded, and with a nauseating dizziness, Harry appeared in the shallow sea area.

He was ecstatic in his heart, picked up the Syrian boy who was still thumping on the sea, and planned to cast the spell again, "Phantom Shift"

Bang, there was a shot, and the last syllable caught in the wizard's throat.

Harry was shot in the chest, and all the strength in his body was quickly drained. It was as if the blood had been poured into the sea water, and he fell forward involuntarily.

Plop, the young wizard smashes into the sea, causing waves

The leader of the werewolf watched Harry fall down. He was holding a police pistol in his hand, and the muzzle was emitting a thin lingering smoke. "This is the 21st century, idiot."

If you get close to the angle of view, you can clearly see the bullet piercing the wizard's "armor protection" spell. Its surface is engraved with complicated and mysterious glyphs, and mithril metal is embedded in the engraving.

This kind of bullet was specially developed by the blood clan to deal with those magical creatures that cannot be solved by ordinary means.

"What are you doing in a daze, quickly drag that wizard out of the sea."

The werewolf leader put away his gun and cursed at his subordinates: "He's not dead yet, hurry up and bring him back to the stronghold."

The other werewolves obeyed and restored the messy beach to its original state.

----

When Harry woke up again, his chest was firmly bound with a layer of bandages, and he was lying on a bed in a luxuriously decorated bedroom.

There was a window at the end of the bedroom. It was vaguely visible, but if you listened carefully, you could hear the sound of the waves.

A slight movement caused trauma, and the severe pain in his chest made the young wizard gasp.

The arrival of the pain also cleared his mind. He thought about everything that happened before he fainted, and suddenly remembered something, and started groping around.

The wand is gone, the Bluetooth headset is missing.

It was concluded that he was captured.

Harry's heart sank, and he tentatively planned to cast spells without a wand, but found that his blood was tightly suppressed, and he could only use a small amount of ether energy.

The door opened, and several pretty girls dressed as maids walked in, with smiles on their lips, and gently lifted Harry from the bed and put him on the wheelchair.

"Who are you?" Harry asked nervously.

No one answered, and the maids remained reserved and silent, silently pushing the wheelchair and leading him out of the room.

This place is probably an ancient castle, with luxurious and exquisite interiors, and an ancient and noble atmosphere everywhere.

If the know-it-all Miss Hermione Granger was here, she might be able to tell Harry the long history of this castle and the splendid family of the owner of the castle by observing the surrounding furniture and portraits of the owner.

After a few breaths, the dazed Harry was brought to the side hall of the castle.

A dinner party is being held in the side hall, and a group of pale-faced young men and women are sitting behind a rectangular table, happily enjoying exquisite western food.

Harry felt his breath suffocating, he could feel the oppressiveness from these men and women, and the young man sitting at the head of the square table exuded a gloomy aura not inferior to that of Voldemort.

Blood race, these people here are real blood race.

Harry Potter was thinking hard, racking his brains to think about the content in "Modern History of Magic", "Quest for Mysteries of Fantastic Species", "The Secret and Glory of Bloodlines",
He even recalled the book "Walking with Vampires" published by Lockhart, the funny teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts in his second year, trying to find any useful information.

Seeing Harry coming, those elegant and noble young men and women put down the tableware, sat upright, and stared at him with interest.

"Whoa, Harry Potter, the savior."

The young man in the first seat has an extremely handsome face, reminiscent of the thin and handsome male nobles in oil paintings.

He was wearing dark silk pajamas, which made him stand out among the well-dressed vampires, but it didn't affect his arrogance overflowing from the bottom of his bones.

"Defeating Voldemort, who swept the wizarding world with the body of a baby, is a well-deserved hero to the mysterious people all over the UK."

Everyone present laughed slightly and unanimously, as if they were mocking something.

"Then, let me introduce myself. I am the head of the Simmore family, one of the thirteen blood clans."

The vampire who claimed to be Essien held up the wine glass with ten thin fingers as pale and warm as white bones, and slowly swung the wine glass. The scarlet wine was swaying in the glass container.

Harry's pupils constricted suddenly. According to the Ministry of Magic, the Simmore clan is the clan with the shortest history among the thirteen clans. It was the first group of wizards and wizards who wanted to gain immortality to transplant blood into their bodies through forbidden experiments. No orthodox first embrace ceremony.

Such desecration of blood clan classics naturally received hostility from other clans, and all blood clans united to destroy Xin Moore completely.

However, Simmor's power is beyond imagination. These new blood clans converted from wizards and mages blocked wave after wave of offensives, proved their bravery in the protracted war, and finally stood on an equal footing with other clans.

Then, the blood race sitting at the head should be the first Patriarch of Simmore, Essien Simmore...

A look of despair flashed across Harry's face. Even the lawless Voldemort, in his heyday, was never willing to face any head of a blood clan head on.

Essien looked at Harry's expression, with a smile on the corner of his mouth, took out the camera from under the chair, and fiddled with it casually, "I don't know why you, the savior, want to participate in our little activity?"

Harry scowled and said nothing.

Essien smiled nonchalantly, and said lazily, "Who sent you here? Dumbledore?"

Harry remained silent.

"Hehe, Mr. Potter, our blood clan does have an armistice agreement with the Ministry of Magic to guarantee mutual non-aggression, but you are responsible for breaking into our territory and interfering with our affairs. Even if I kill you on the spot, Dumbledore can't accuse me of anything."

Essien said slowly: "But I'm a pacifist, and I don't want to make the fight too rigid. As long as you leave obediently and promise not to interfere in the internal affairs of our blood race, then we can still keep our blood in check."

Harry Potter pursed his lips and had to do his best not to sneer.

"Don't doubt, Mr. Potter, I hate these Middle Easterners as much as you do. They are just food for our blood race,"

Essien said casually: "Food is important, but wizards who are friendly neighbors are also indispensable and important allies of our blood race.

This time, I forgive you, don't refuse my kindness, Mr. Potter. "

With a strong bitter taste in Harry's mouth, he raised his head with difficulty, looked at the great nobleman of the thirteen clans, and said nothing.

"Ha ha."

Essien smiled gently, and waved to the maid to take the head away, "Forget it, I have already notified Dumbledore to pick you up, before you stay and have dinner with us."

Just as Harry was about to refuse, the maid behind him pushed the wheelchair and lifted him into the seat.

Essien Simmore snapped his fingers, and the rectangular wooden table began to fold automatically. All the meals on the table were stored and arranged. A transparent plastic straw rose from the front of each person's table, passing through the hollow on the table. The small hole connects to the underside of the table.

All the blood clans came forward with a smile, took their own straw, and poured it lightly. The whole process was harmonious and quiet, without any noise.

Harry felt a faint feeling in his heart. Just as he was about to look under the table, the maid behind him gently but firmly stuffed the straw into his mouth, and at the same time pressed the button on the wooden table to pump the liquid into his mouth. In Harry's mouth.

The fishy-sweet liquid filled his mouth, and Harry tried to struggle, but the maid behind him firmly held his body, preventing him from breaking free.

The throat suddenly contracted under the physiological reaction of vomiting, and the extra scarlet liquid slowly slipped from the corner of Harry's mouth.

"let me go!"

Roaring, Harry broke free from the restraints. Regardless of the sharp pain in his chest, he lifted up the delicate cut-out tablecloth and looked under the wooden table.

Under the antique long wooden table, there was a row of people, a row of Middle Eastern refugees half buried in the floor.

Harry had seen them, Albenny, Hassan, and the other six who had attacked the Dursleys on Calamity Day.

These thugs who used to be indifferent to bullying the British people now have straws inserted all over their bodies, allowing the blood to flow out along the straws and onto the wooden table top.

There was a "buzz" in Harry's head, and he could see the sad and hopeless expressions on the faces of these Middle Easterners, as well as the lingering resentment and hatred.

"Hehe, Mr. Harry, according to the results of the British court, they would be sentenced to several years in prison at most, and then released as food for blood supply."

Essien said indifferently: "But who made them offend you? For the sake of the long-term friendship between wizards and vampires, I had to reluctantly make them into disposable blood bags. If you don't mind, please sit down." Keep enjoying."

"No"

A moan escaped Harry's throat.

He really hated these villains who hurt the Dursleys, and hoped that they would spend their lives in prison, but that didn't mean he could accept this kind of "revenge".

The behavior of the blood clan has gone beyond the category of "human", and it is no different from leading beasts to eat people.

Unexplained power filled his whole body, Harry stood up tremblingly, pointed at Essien Simmore at the head of the wooden table, and stretched out a finger, "Avadaso."

"stop!"

An old shout sounded behind Harry, and a decaying hand pressed on Harry's shoulder.

That was Albus Dumbledore.

The white wizard who arrived in a hurry through apparition interrupted Harry's brewing black magic with surging magic power. He glanced at the enthusiastic Essien Simmore in the first seat expressionlessly, and said calmly: " Mr Simmore, I will take Harry first."

"Take it away."

Essien nodded with great interest, because he had a straw in his mouth, and his voice seemed slurred, "But this little Harry is really a flower growing in a greenhouse. I have never seen such a thing in the world. In the future How to get along on the mysterious side?"

"You don't need to worry about this kind of thing."

Dumbledore didn't seem to notice the distress palm protruding from under the wooden table, and cast the Apparition spell on his own, leading Harry away.

After a short breath, the two had arrived at the gate of No. 12 Grimmauld Place, which was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry had just recovered from the effects of the teleportation magic, he threw off Dumbledore's shackles, and shouted angrily, "My God, they did, they did."

"I know, Harry."

Dumbledore grabbed Harry's shoulders and said in a low voice, "You need to stay calm."

"you know?!"

Harry Potter looked at Dumbledore in disbelief, gritted his teeth, and shouted mournfully, "Then why didn't you stop them?"

".I can not do it."

Dumbledore's voice was hoarse and deep, making one wonder whether the old man was the strongest white wizard who held power at Hogwarts, "The blood clan and the Ministry of Magic signed a peace treaty many years ago, and they cannot interfere with the Muggle world. If I stop it, it will be equivalent to the entire wizarding world declaring war on the blood race."

Harry said bitterly, "No"

He staggered back a few steps, ran away without looking back, and rushed into the night.

He ran among the crowds of demonstrations, rushed away from the sad and angry people, and ran aimlessly on the streets of London.

The scar on his chest was throbbing, and blood flowed from the ruptured wound, Harry stopped in vain.

A pair of boots appeared in his sight, and Harry looked up to find Leon standing in front of him.

Harry Potter said awkwardly: "Mr. Leon, what should I do to stop those blood races who lead beasts and cannibals? Stop their plan to introduce people from the Middle East and completely exchange blood for the British Empire?"

Leon stated calmly: "You need to become stronger, stronger than Dumbledore, stronger than Voldemort, and stronger than those blood clans combined."

Harry became extremely dazed, "...what should I do?"

"There are many ways to become stronger, but combined with your specific situation, there is only one way to solve the problem."

Li Ang frowned, and said in a deep voice, "That's charging money!"

(End of this chapter)