ocean-life Chapter 157 - Borrowed Through Skill
Chapter 157 - Borrowed Through Skill
Chapter 157 - Borrowed Through Skill
For a moment, the room fell silent. The representatives from the northern Covert Martial Arts community paused in their activities and turned to look.
Sharp laser-like eyes trained on the scar-faced man, who suddenly felt as if he were naked and completely exposed. The hairs on his arms stood on end, inch by inch.
He felt like he was being watched by top predators—a whole group of top predators. The scar-faced man froze on the spot.
His mind went blank, an instinctive fear shooting through him, but then the side effects of the beast blood injected into his system kicked in. In simple terms, the scar-faced man suddenly felt a twitch in his body and continued speaking along the lines of what he had just said. "So, you're the one they call Twilight, huh?"
He raised his hand and pointed at the skinny old man descending the stairs in an elegant striped suit. Compared to the clearly abnormal people around him, this white-haired old man with the friendly smile appeared the most normal.
Seeing the scar-faced man's finger pointing his way, Mi An, who was once called the Demon Lion, smiled warmly and cheerfully. He opened his mouth, revealing a set of still-white teeth. "Do you know this person, Cassius?"
"No, I don't." Cassius shook his head, answering honestly.
It was at this point that the scar-faced man realized something was off. "Wait, I'm here to—"
"Good." Mi An nodded when he heard Cassius's words. Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind surged through the room. Somehow, Mi An appeared instantly right in front of the scar-faced man. His hands became a blur, and two dark shadows swiftly sliced through the scar-faced man's shoulders.
The next moment, Mi An pressed his palm against the man's chest, and the man staggered backward. Cassius, who was standing close by, yanked Jiri inside, then reached out and shut the door with a click.
Outside, the scar-faced man, who had been struck senseless, shook his head and cursed. Then he began coughing violently; there was a heavy pressure in his chest. He tried to lift his hand to check what was happening.
"Wait... Where the fuck is my hand?! Where's my hand?! Aaaahhh!" The delayed pain hit him like a tidal wave, his face twisting in agony as sweat poured down.
A man stood in front of the small building as rain drizzled around him. Two severed arms, still clad in their sleeves, lay on the ground. The man's shoulders were a bloody mess, with blood vessels shooting blood out.
"Roar... Roar... Roar..."
Hearing the miserable wails from outside, Mi An let out a soft sigh and patted his old waist. "Honestly, the older I get, the easier it is to lose my temper. Decades of cultivating my temperament, all gone in a single instant..."
Duomo, who had been practicing his punches nearby, rolled his eyes. He knew his martial uncle. This was clearly his body making a valiant attempt at regaining its peak condition, and his inner restlessness flaring up again. In his youth, Mi An had been aggressive and reckless, often pushing himself to the edge in martial arts practice, and he had a reputation for challenging all sorts of masters to deadly duels. Together, he and Duomo's master, Maro, were known as the Two Demon Lions.
Mi An's so-called cultivation of temperament was just a result of aging, as his vitality waned and he gradually lost hope of ever reaching a higher level of martial arts. Disheartened, he had no choice but to settle down. But once his martial passion was rekindled, Mi An would never be content with obscurity.
Cutting off someone's arms was just an appetizer. If they weren't in enemy territory which demanded a certain level of caution, the scar-faced man would have died a horrible death for daring to point his finger at Mi An with such arrogance.
There was no such thing as a wrong nickname, only a wrong name. When he was young, the Demon Lion was an incredibly domineering force.
Meanwhile, Cassius continued chatting casually with Jiri, accepting the proffered food. He acted as if the scar-faced man who had come to collect a debt had never even made an appearance.
It wasn't Cassius's problem that the man had mistaken him for someone else.
Besides, why should he return the dark essence that he had borrowed using his own skills? It was hard work tracking down a source for the loan! It wasn't like the Bolt Sect's base was close to the Iron Blood Tavern...
That scar-faced man was probably from the Black Wolf Society. And if the Black Wolf Society retaliated against Cassius? He wouldn't be scared. In fact, it'd be the perfect opportunity for him to test Soul Power on a control group in front of the Northern Covert Martial Arts representatives.
Wait... wasn't there already the perfect test subject just outside the door?
Cassius's head jerked up and he went and opened the door. Outside, the scar-faced man had already transformed into a werewolf in a Hail Mary to save his life. He was bent over, trying to use his teeth to pick up his severed arms, perhaps hoping to use some strange ability to reattach them. At that moment, the scar-faced man's face was planted on the ground, rubbing against it like a pig rooting for food, his rear end sticking high in the air.
Hearing the door open, he raised his head fearfully, still on his knees. When he caught sight of Cassius, his face dropped in utter despair. "What the fuck do you people want from me?!"
It turns out that when some people swore, it didn't necessarily mean to insult; it could just be their way of speaking. It was fine amongst friends because they understood your personality, but strangers on the other hand would think you're cursing at them.
The scar-faced man was one such person. He had casually mouthed off as he would when collecting debts, and all of a sudden, his arms were gone. And now it seemed like he was about to be used as some kind of dangerous test subject.
Having a loose tongue really brought down a storm of misfortune...
Half an hour later.
The old man with the goatee, Hardy, displayed exceptional medical skills, seemingly using some kind of special ability to reattach the scar-faced man's arms. Despite the arms getting reattached, they were nowhere near as functional as they had been before.
Cassius and the others weren't acting like this out of a sudden sense of goodwill but because they intended to conduct experiments related to Soul Power. Having a specimen that was intact was more valuable, as it eliminated variables for comparison.
Afterward, they ate the breakfast Jiri brought. It wasn’t anything special, but, at least, it tasted quite good. Just as they finished cleaning up the table, there was another knock at the door. It was a familiar, impatient rhythm, followed by a familiar voice.
"Twilight, are you in there? Open the damn door!"
Thirty seconds later...
"The loan I took from Reaper’s Eye isn't due for another twenty days, right?" Cassius asked the visitor in a gentle tone.
"Y-yes, that's correct," the curly-haired man stammered in response.
After a simple lunch, the group left the small building and headed toward the Baptism Chapel. Along the way, they arrived at a roundabout with a statue at its center. Mi An immediately noticed something was off about the surroundings.
He raised his hand to signal the group, then halted. Mi An pointed toward the top of a nearby clock tower.
Following his gaze, Cassius spotted two grayish-white gargoyles carved into the tower, each the size of a human. These gargoyles, with their grotesque and terrifying stone faces, were facing their direction, their bodies leaning forward as if they were poised to take flight.
Mi An then gestured around them, sweeping his arm in all directions. Cassius looked around and noticed that similar gargoyle statues lined the edges of the many spires and domed buildings in the area.
Some were standing, some roaring, while others were crouching. But all shared one common trait: their hideous heads had all twisted toward the group, seemingly watching them.
Cassius frowned and glanced at the statue beside him, now missing its upper body. He recalled that when he first arrived at Black Rain Manor, he had assumed this statue represented the manor's owner.
Perhaps these gargoyle statues had always faced this direction...
He voiced his thoughts, and the group decided to test it out by moving forward.
After taking only a few steps, Mi An raised his hand again, signaling them to stop. This time, the gargoyles atop the roofs began to turn their heads. They weren’t focused on the statue—they were watching Cassius and his companions. Something about them had drawn the gargoyles' attention.
"Could it be those strange entities?" someone murmured.
If Martial Uncle is being this cautious, it must be trouble... Duomo's expression darkened as he squinted his eyes.
"Catch." A voice suddenly came from the side.
A few small, pitch-black objects were tossed over, and Duomo instinctively caught them. When he opened his palm, he saw what looked like rat droppings.
"It seems your auras have been detected. See if this medicine will help," Cassius said as he closed the bottle and slipped it back into his pocket.
"That might be it," Mi An said with a slight nod, and without hesitation, swallowed the aged fake-death pill. Duomo also swallowed one, tasting the familiar taste of sour plum once again.
They continued to move forward, and this time, the gargoyles' heads didn’t follow them. It was indeed their auras that had caused the reaction. The group felt like they could breathe a little easier and continued onward, but soon had to stop again.
The gargoyles were watching them once again.
Cassius looked over at Mi An and said, "The Baptism Chapel is likely one of the core areas of Black Rain Manor. The attention here is far stronger than in any of the other areas. The closer we get to the chapel, the harder it will be for outsiders to conceal their auras. It seems that most of you won’t be able to enter the chapel. I’ll have to take those experimental subjects inside and you can see the results secondhand."
After some discussion, Mi An instructed Winged Serpent Hardy to return to the small building and bring the experimental subjects over.
Ten minutes later, six marked-ones arrived. Among them, two seemed unwilling; they were none other than the two who had come to collect a debt from Cassius, only to end up being collected themselves.
The other four were volunteers. Cassius's generous offer of dark essence was no small incentive. The saying "money makes the world go round" applied here as well; the promise of dark essence could do the same in motivating the marked-ones. There were plenty of Hellsing members who feared they wouldn’t survive their regular missions, and Cassius could easily round up a group of them.
Not only did participating in the experiment earn them some dark essence, but the experiment itself used dark essence to strengthen them—a double benefit.
The only drawback was that there was a small risk, but the benefits of doing this far outweighed the danger of completing a mission they had no chance of surviving, at least on the surface. So, these subjects were more than willing to cooperate.
The two who were less enthusiastic didn't pose a problem either—Cassius had already "reasoned" with them. For now, they didn't dare to resist, so they could still be used.
Cassius then took them one by one to the Baptism Chapel. The marked-ones entered the private room while he stood guard outside. Once the enhancement was complete, Cassius quickly escorted them back to the roundabout.
"Excellent, truly excellent!"
"Just as we thought!"
"Soul Power... this force is practically made for the Covert Martial Arts."
Mi An's face was bursting with excitement as he observed an elderly man in front of him, now with a muscular build, black hair, and bright, sharp eyes.
Who would have thought that before entering, this man had been thin, had white hair, and a face full of wrinkles? The old man was actually seventy-two years old and practiced the Poison Sect’s methods. After enhancing his Covert Martial Arts, provided by Mi An, with Soul Power, he now appeared twenty years younger!
The elders of the northern Covert Martial Arts sects exchanged glances, each seeing the hunger in the other's eyes.
Soul Power was effective—very effective!
"Good! This couldn’t get any better!" Winged Serpent Hardy, the oldest in the group at ninety-three, stroked his goatee and laughed heartily. Despite his long-lived health practices, he was very aware that he had, at most, another decade or so left. Decline and death were inevitable. But now... now there was hope!
Seeing the others' excitement, Cassius decided to enhance his own physique with Soul Power. His current level was close to these Northern Covert Martial Arts representatives, so seeing a change in him would be even more convincing.
[Wind Elephant Fist incomplete: Elephant Herd 74.8% (Total Three Stages)] → [Wind Elephant Fist incomplete: Elephant Herd 76.4% (Total Three Stages)]
[Elephant Soul Incomplete: Bug Bite 66.8% (Total Three Stages)]
The progress of his Wind Elephant Fist was about ten percent higher than that of the Elephant Soul, indicating that his physique could still be enhanced by about ten percent. With that, Cassius stepped forward and entered the Baptism Chapel.