I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

Chapter 181: The Trap Plan

“This is the… Blood Puppet Clone you mentioned, my Lord?” Wilbur’s voice was a raw rasp.

Aldrich nodded, his gaze finally tearing away from the clone to settle on Wilbur.

“Exactly.” For a moment, his tone held a flicker of approval, even sentiment. “Grave-Touch Raelf… that bastard had a brain or two. To develop a derivative of my core arts like that… wasn’t easy.”

He paused, a complex look passing through his eyes.

“A shame he’s dead. With his talent, his drive… he might have made third rank.” Aldrich shook his head, like a man mourning a useful tool he’d accidentally broken. “If he had, I wouldn’t be stuck here, doing everything myself, trying to find one reliable man who can handle a simple job.”

On the surface, Wilbur’s expression was one of perfect agreement. He gave a slight bow.

Inside, his thoughts were a different story.

On one hand, he agreed. Another third rank meant their crew could grab a bigger slice of the Ascension Road pie, maybe even Eden’s. But the pie was only so big. Another mouth meant less for him. Competition for the good stuff—Aldrich’s special potions, the exclusive resources—would get fiercer.

Still, Raelf was dead. His bones were bleaching in a ditch somewhere. No point crying over spilled milk.

Better to enjoy the leftovers.

“Indeed a pity,” Wilbur echoed, then cut to the chase. “But my Lord, besides the looks, what can this thing do?” He furrowed his brow, just the right amount of concern. “If it’s just a face… I don’t see it fooling that ‘Scarred Woman’.”

“She’s too careful. She’s got an intel source we haven’t found, and it’s damn effective. How she keeps slipping our nets, how she keeps popping up to taunt us… looks alone won’t be enough.”

Aldrich nodded. The sentimentality vanished, replaced by his usual cold calculation.

“Of course it’s not just the looks.”

He paced to the edge of the pool, staring at the naked duplicate.

“That process just now… it wasn’t just ‘copying’ your body.” Aldrich turned, a strange, tight smile playing on his lips. “It was copying your abilities.” He paused for effect. “Especially with your blood as the ‘sample,’ the ‘catalyst’… the current ‘he’ can simulate and use abilities nearly identical to yours…”

“Identical?!” Wilbur’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. The shock was real.

If that was true, Aldrich could mass-produce third-rank apprentices! Even mediocre third-ranks like him, in numbers, would be a nightmare. The thought sent a deep chill through his gut.

Aldrich saw the fear in his eyes and shook his head with a hint of regret. “Unfortunately, the effect isn’t as good as you think.” He held up two fingers.

“First, its lifespan is garbage. Way shorter than a standard puppet. We’re talking hours, not the years you get off a proper Iron Golem.”

At the mention of “Iron Golem,” a profound longing flashed in Aldrich’s eyes. “One of those… almost indistinguishable from a living person, can mimic simple emotions, stable for a decade… The tech behind it is something we apprentices can’t even dream of.”

Wilbur nodded, playing along. He knew the score. The Iron Golem project was a joint venture between the Corpse Hall and the Foundry, a “Master Demon Hunter” level secret. Raelf’s best work was a child’s toy next to it.

“Secondly,” Aldrich continued, pulling him back, “its abilities are heavily restricted. It can use your power, almost perfectly, but every full-force blast burns through a massive amount of my Blood Pool reserves for replenishment and maintenance.”

“And the biggest flaw—” He stared right into Wilbur’s soul. “The number of times ‘he’ can go all out is finite. Based on Raelf’s old calculations and the data from just now… it can hit with full power three times. After three strikes, the core collapses. It turns back into a pool of rotting blood and flesh.”

Hearing that, Wilbur felt a secret wave of relief wash over him. If this puppet could truly replace him, if it were unlimited… that was a terrifying thought.

But the relief vanished as quickly as it came. The image of that damnable ‘Scarred Woman’ surfaced in his mind. The plan.

His expression shifted from shock to eager anticipation.

“Three times?” He licked his dry, cracked lips. “For a hunting plan… that’s more than enough!”

Aldrich nodded, his own eyes gleaming with a cold, vicious excitement.

“Precisely. Three times is all we need. A puppet like this is enough to fool almost anyone. Even those stuck-up third-ranks. Even if that ‘Scarred Woman’ really does have some secret intelligence source we don’t know about…”

He sneered.

“There is no way in hell she knows about this ‘clone.’ There’s no way she knows its flaws. That information is only for you, me, and the dead Raelf.”