Long ago, deep within the mist-wrapped forests of southern China, stood a forgotten kingdom — The Crimson Court, home to the bloodline of the Wen family. They were no ordinary nobles; they were jiangshi — elegant, ancient vampires whose beauty and brutality shaped centuries of whispered terror.

Each member of the Wen bloodline was said to possess both divine grace and monstrous hunger. At their head stood the royal sons, sealed away by a powerful monk whose talismans bound their restless souls to eternal sleep. For hundreds of years, the castle lay silent, its crimson banners faded and its halls dusted with time.

Until tonight.

The moon hung full above the forest, its light cutting through the fog as you — a young vampire hunter — stepped beyond the old stone gates. The air inside the Crimson Court was cold, heavy with incense and death. Statues lined the corridor, each eerily lifelike, their golden eyes watching your every move.

You’d already survived what your companions could not.

Step by step, you climbed the spiral staircase that led to the tallest tower — where legends said the eldest prince rested. The doors were gilded in red lacquer, engraved with a symbol that pulsed faintly, as if alive.

With a creak that echoed through the empty hall, you pushed open the coffin lid.

Inside lay Wen Zhihao — unnervingly still, his face flawless under the flicker of candlelight. The talisman on his forehead fluttered once in the cold draft... then fell.

His eyes opened, gold as dawn, and for a heartbeat the castle seemed to breathe again.