Axolotl Translations

Blinding lights scattered dazzling, fragmented colors across his disoriented vision.

Ruan Zhao’s head spun, feeling like a bowl of porridge stirred into a blur. Clutching his uneasy stomach, he forced down the urge to retch, his face unconsciously paling.

Frowning slightly, his delicate brows drawing together, he cautiously took in his surroundings. A grand, lavishly lit ballroom—the deliberately high ceiling adorned with enormous crystal chandeliers, their brilliant lights gleaming like daylight, making the entire banquet hall shimmer as if it were midday. All around him, impeccably dressed young men and women mingled.

Elegant gowns, crisp tuxedos, polished smiles—crystal glasses in hand, their laughter and casual conversations floating gracefully through the air. Ruan Zhao subtly wrinkled his nose. There was a strange, sweet metallic scent lingering faintly. Not exactly unpleasant, but it tugged at something primal and uneasy within him.

His stomach churned even harder, a strange burning sensation crawling up from within. It was hunger. But not ordinary hunger—something deeper, fiercer, raw. His stomach twisted. Pupils dilated. Heartbeat accelerating. His weak body began to tremble. Hungry. So hungry.

He needed something—anything—to eat. The hunger gnawed away at the fragile scraps of reason left in him, making it feel as if he might die right there if he didn’t fill his tortured stomach soon. His slender throat bobbed, his already pale face growing even whiter.

His steps faltered, unsteady, and almost desperately, he grabbed a glass from a passing tray. Lifting his hand, the glass’s contents—a vivid crimson liquid—hovered a breath away from his dry lips. But in the very next moment, it was like a jolt of lightning snapped through him.

He recoiled, suddenly aware, hastily slamming the glass back down. The force cracked the glass’s base. Sticky, vividly colored liquid seeped through the fracture, spilling down in slow, glossy streaks—staining the pristine white marble floor a deep, blood-like red.

The banquet bustled on, lively and oblivious. No one noticed the small, quiet disturbance that had just played out.

Ruan Zhao lowered his lashes, his expression unreadable as he stared at the smear of crimson on the floor, a wave of nausea rising in his chest. It had been so close.

Just a little more, and he would have drunk it.

Blood.

That was what those glasses had held—drinks laced with blood. The concentration varied, which gave them their different shades: soft pink, rosy blush, coral red, deep crimson… lined up in a row like swatches of lipstick, each with its own shade of red. The sight alone made his head swim.

……

In this world, Ruan Zhao’s identity was that of a pureblood vampire. His father, a powerful duke within the vampire aristocracy; his mother, an S-rank warrior, a legend in the vampire military.

Pureblood heirs were rare. Most vampires of the second, third, and fourth generations were either turned from humans or born of mixed blood. So when Ruan Zhao was born—pure, flawless, and carrying both his parents’ bloodlines—he was treated like a treasure.

Everyone around him adored and spoiled him, indulging his every whim. If one day he asked for the moon in the sky, someone would have plucked it down and gifted it to him without hesitation. He was raised like something precious, pampered and shielded, growing up without a single hardship. Any desire he voiced was granted.

But perhaps when the heavens open one door, they close another. For while his parents were renowned for their strength, blessed with unmatched power and physical abilities, Ruan Zhao inherited none of it.

Every year, his physical evaluations came back with the same pitiful result: C-rank. Not just weaker than the second and third generation vampires—even the stronger hybrids could overpower him without breaking a sweat. And to make matters worse, he suffered from anorexia. Since the day he was born, not once had he ever drunk human blood.

Even though he endured hunger every single day, growing weaker with each passing moment, Ruan Zhao still couldn’t summon the slightest craving for human blood. Just the metallic scent alone made his head spin, his stomach churn, nausea rising to his throat.

If it weren’t for the strength of his bloodline sustaining him, he would have long since collapsed into a coffin and drifted into eternal sleep.

……

After the system finished transmitting his personal data, Ruan Zhao fell into a long, heavy silence. The burning ache in his stomach had dulled slightly, but it still lingered—an undeniable, gnawing presence that constantly reminded him of his hunger. It had been a long time since Ruan Zhao felt this miserable.

His gaze shifted, catching sight of a small table in the corner lined with desserts and pastries. But that area was deserted, not a single vampire near it, as though those delicate confections existed solely as decoration for the banquet.

Slowly, Ruan Zhao shuffled over. He picked up a small piece of cream cake and placed it in his mouth. But he couldn’t taste the soft sweetness of the cream.

It felt like a lump of soggy cotton, clinging stickily to his tongue, spreading thickly through his mouth as he instinctively chewed. The last glimmer of light in Ruan Zhao’s eyes faded.

Expressionless, he chewed a few more times, then, unable to endure it, spat it out into a napkin in quiet disgust. The rich scent of sweet cream filled his nose, but it did nothing to stir his appetite.

Human food made him sick. And food meant for vampires—for both physical and psychological reasons—made him even more nauseous.

Ruan Zhao felt like his future was pitch black. He braced a hand against the wall beside him, barely keeping himself upright. His eyes reddened slightly as he bit his lip, his voice quiet, anxious, asking the system whether this was how he would have to live from now on—starving, suffering, until his body finally gave out… until he died of hunger.

[I feel like my stomach’s about to start digesting itself.] He clutched at his abdomen, hoping it might ease the pain. [It’s like there’s a fire burning in there… it feels like I’m about to die.]

[Am I really about to become the first vampire in history to starve to death?]

The system awkwardly tried to comfort him. [Of course not, Zhaozhao, don’t worry. Vampires can die, sure—but starving to death? Impossible. Even if their bodies grow dangerously weak, they’ll just fall into a deep sleep to conserve their strength. When their bodies recover enough, they’ll wake up again.]

Ruan Zhao asked, [And how long does that take?]

The system hesitated, stammering. [W-well… sometimes a few months… sometimes decades… or even centuries… in some rare cases, millennia.]

Ruan Zhao let out a flat, emotionless “Oh,” like a man suddenly seeing the futility of existence. [Might as well be dead then.]

[If we reset now, we could still make it in time for the next mission.]

[…] The system was speechless.

[A world where I can’t enjoy food, where I have to suffer through constant hunger every second—yeah, no thanks. I can’t stay here another moment.] Ruan Zhao closed his eyes, flopped down in a resigned sprawl, and urged the system to hurry up and get it over with. [Stop wasting time already.]

[Wait, wait, Zhaozhao—it’s not the end yet! Things haven’t hit rock bottom! There’s still a way out of this!] The system panicked, desperate to persuade him.

[This world’s mission is ridiculously easy, you’d be crazy to give up now! Plus—once you meet the protagonist, you won’t have to go hungry ever again!]

At the mention of the protagonist, Ruan Zhao’s brow twitched ever so slightly. Some thought clearly crossed his mind, making his expression hesitate for the first time. He asked quietly, [The protagonist… what’s his name?]

The system, catching a certain signal, dramatically lowered its voice and revealed three characters: [Lu Xingyao.]

Pleased at seeing Ruan Zhao’s subtle shift in expression, it pressed on eagerly, practically dropping hints. [I don’t know, but I think his name sounds pretty nice. Especially that middle character—‘Xing,’ star… don’t you think so, Zhaozhao?]

Ruan Zhao’s face remained unreadable, but his mood seemed to soften a little. Lowering his head, he mulled it over like he was genuinely weighing whether ‘Lu Xingyao’ sounded good or not. In the end, his expression stiff, he managed a barely passable reply.

The system didn’t know how to respond to that. It cleared its throat, remembering it should probably move on to the world’s background now, and switched to a formal, matter-of-fact tone. [The protagonist, Lu Xingyao, is a powerful vampire hunter. He wears a silver mask and roams the night, hunting down vampires who violate the peace treaty and secretly prey on humans…]

There had once been a long, drawn-out war between vampires and humans. It raged for centuries. Human numbers dropped to less than a fifth of what they’d once been, with countless young men and women dying on the battlefield—leaving behind only scattered elders and orphaned children.

The vampires didn’t fare much better. Generations of power were wiped out. Huge numbers of second- and third-generation vampires were reduced to ash, while even several S-class and A-class elders fell into an eternal sleep, never to wake again. The war’s devastation on both sides was beyond calculation. And as it dragged on, it became clear that nothing but senseless slaughter lay ahead. Mountains of corpses and bones piled high. Earth forever stained in dark rust-red. Rivers that ran thick with blood.

Eventually, those in power had no choice but to face reality. They sat down for days of tense negotiations and finally signed a ceasefire treaty. This so-called peace treaty declared that both vampires and humans were equal, bound to a code of non-aggression and mutual respect. Anyone, vampire or human, who violated this agreement would be punished by the Department of Supernatural Regulation.

Over time, as the treaty was revised and amended, humans gained more and more influence, especially with the rise of powerful human espers. The Department of Supernatural Regulation eventually split, giving rise to the Vampire Hunter Association.

The Vampire Hunter Association held absolute authority—able to publicly execute any vampire violating the treaty without even consulting the main department, facing no consequences.

And Lu Xingyao… He was one of those vampire hunters.

[Every time Lu Xingyao killed a vampire, he would use the victim’s blood to draw a five-pointed star at the scene, openly flaunting his identity.]

[Naturally, his silent, almost theatrical displays earned him the seething hatred of the vampire community. More than a few would regularly attempt to assassinate him. Not that any of them had ever succeeded.]

Ruan Zhao couldn’t help but ask, [So… he really hates vampires that much?]

The system replied matter-of-factly, [Of course. You wouldn’t become a vampire hunter if you didn’t.] Then it seemed to realize something, glanced sidelong at Ruan Zhao, and awkwardly added, [Well—it depends on the vampire. He doesn’t hate all of them. The ones who follow the law and keep to themselves… he’ll usually go easy on them. He won’t cause unnecessary trouble.]

Ruan Zhao: […] Sure. I’ll believe that when I see it.

After just a brief exchange of barely ten minutes, Ruan Zhao’s condition worsened. He sat slumped in a chair, both hands pressed lightly against his stomach. His once-rosy lips had gone pale, and when he licked his dry lips, he couldn’t stop himself from murmuring again, “So hungry…”

The system could only hover around him in anxious circles, flitting up and down in a panic. [In this world, only Lu Xingyao’s blood won’t trigger your eating disorder.]

By all rights, Ruan Zhao’s bloodline should’ve been strong enough to endure for much longer—but the system couldn’t stand watching him suffer like this. It made a snap decision. [We have to find him. Quickly. Get his blood.]

But Ruan Zhao cut him off. [Let’s not even talk about where we’re supposed to find him. Even if we do—do you really think Lu Xingyao’s the type to let some random vampire get close and drink his blood?]

For anyone else, that would be a hard no. But for Ruan Zhao… If it were him, Lu Xingyao would absolutely agree without a second thought.

The problem was, because this world’s mission was so simple, the system’s authority here was weak. It had very little plot information, and not even a vague sense of where the protagonist was.

The system hated seeing Ruan Zhao suffer. Watching his pale face, those furrowed brows, the way he clenched his teeth to bear the hunger—the system wished it could take his place.

The little winged cat-ball finally stopped its frantic flight. It floated down, rubbing its tiny head against the soft palm of Ruan Zhao’s hand. The eyes displayed on its digital face narrowed in deep worry. […Hurts a lot, huh?]

Ruan Zhao gently stroked its head, then its soft wings. [It’s fine. The worst part’s over. It’s a little better now.]

The system’s worried eyes squinted even tighter, practically turning into a wavy line. This wasn’t sustainable. They had to find Lu Xingyao soon—or else Ruan Zhao would be left like this, endlessly hungry…

And just as the system was about to lose its mind, a burst of fireworks erupted in the center of the banquet hall. Colorful flowers and streamers floated down from above, and with a wave of applause, the already lively atmosphere surged to its peak.

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