1888: Memoirs of an Unconfirmed Creature Hunter

Chapter 347: Dual-Front Battlefield

Golden nectar poured into the container in Lin Jie's hand from the wound that had been forcibly cut open. The liquid, saturated with immense life energy, released a strange, intoxicating sweetness the instant it met the air.

But that fragrance became the final spark to ignite the entire battlefield.

Yan Xilou, standing with his hands behind his back on the high corridor bridge and watching coldly, finally broke his aloof masterly composure when that streak of gold appeared. His white robe billowed, and he fell toward the center of the altar like a white crane.

There was no sound of landing.

The moment his toes touched the ground he used the downward momentum to execute an extremely strange sliding step. His right hand, hidden in the wide sleeve, shot out like a snake from its hole, and in his palm he held a seemingly unremarkable dark yellow short rod.

"Zheng—"

Accompanied by an extraordinarily sharp, sustained metallic tremor, the short rod split and extended in midair into three sections connected by refined steel chains, a long weapon suffused with a murky yellow glow.

Grotesque Armament—Nine-Bend Yellow River.

This Eastern lethal weapon, which had grievously wounded William in the Egyptian temple and left that seasoned veteran bedridden to this day, now lashed out with terrifying momentum at the back of Lin Jie's head as he collected nectar with his back turned.

The strike's angle was fiendishly clever.It traced an unpredictable zigzag path in midair like a series of nine winding curves.

"Watch out!"

Julian, who had been holding his gun and locking Yan Xilou's position, saw the deadly scene and instinctively squeezed the trigger, despite the stabbing pain that repeatedly shot through his brain from maintaining the regulated sight for so long.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two bullets, guided by hit rules, left the barrel.

Under Discipline's rule judgment, the bullets targeted Yan Xilou's unprotected wrist joint; a hit would forcibly interrupt the attack.

The bullets arced through the air in an almost impossible trajectory.

However, just before impact Yan Xilou's wrist twitched ever so slightly, and the three-section rod that had been attacking suddenly—like something coming to life—made a rotation in midair that violated physical inertia.

It was "flow."

The murky yellow glow on the rod's surface spun like a high-speed vortex, swallowing the bullets' kinetic energy. When the hard alchemical rounds contacted that layer of light they did not explode; instead, that soft force diverted their direction and they fell to the ground.

A flexible defense.

The most terrifying aspect of this Eastern armament was not only its ability to ignore physical blocks with penetrating attacks, but also its capacity to neutralize almost any kinetic strike with absolute defense.

Whether blade or bullet, in front of this "Yellow River" they lost their original edge.

Yan Xilou's offensive did not pause even for a tenth of a second because of that interception. The death-whistling rod's tip was already closing in on the nape of Lin Jie's neck.

At that range, any conventional evasive move would be too late.

But Lin Jie was not a conventional hunter. Since crossing over, he had faced countless life-or-death scenes.

The instant he felt the gust behind him, he performed a move that even surprised Yan Xilou. He stepped forward suddenly and pressed his whole body tightly against the main stem of the Corpse-Scent Arum.

The surface of the Black Mercury trench coat shimmered with a faint bluish flow.

"Slide!"

The Phase Slip property was pushed to the extreme.

Lin Jie's body slid down the plant's epidermis to its root. This absolutely frictionless mode of movement let his speed briefly surpass human limits.

"Huu!"

The tip of the three-section rod grazed his scalp as it swept past. Although it did not hit flesh, the spiritual current attached to the weapon cut several strands of his hair like an invisible blade and left a terrifying gouge nearly an inch deep in the plant's tough surface.

"Nice footwork, Brother Lin, your strength has improved a lot since last time."

Yan Xilou praised him, but his wrist motion grew even more ferocious. With a twist of the wrist, the rod that had just missed completed a tiny-radius reversal in the air.

This time it transformed into a spear and stabbed straight at the Lin Jie who had just regained his footing.

The transition from "sweep" to "stab" was so fluid there was no awkwardness; the weapon was effectively an extension of his body.

Lin Jie had no time to seal the bottle full of nectar; he could only stuff it into his chest and draw out the Silencer with his off hand.

He knew better than anyone present the kind of deadly enemy he faced.

This was not merely a clash between grotesque armaments; it was the collision of two entirely different combat philosophies.

Yan Xilou represented the pinnacle of Eastern martial arts: harmonious, continuous, using softness to overcome hardness. Lin Jie wielded a killing method refined by modern anatomy and Association training, prioritizing efficiency and precision.

"Let's see whether your water flows faster, or my blade cuts quicker."

Lin Jie's gaze was as cold as a slab of ice; he was confident this time would not end in another crushing defeat.

Facing the iron rod that stabbed like a venomous dragon, he did not retreat. He activated the Mental Staircase's auxiliary calculation mode, tilted his body slightly, and deliberately met the yellow flow head-on.

This was dancing on the tip of a blade.

If his calculations erred even a fraction, the rod would pierce his chest like tissue paper.

But under the Black Mercury coat's field, when the iron rod contacted Lin Jie's shoulder it underwent a minuscule deflection and slip.

That negligible deviation of a few centimeters let Death only brush past.

Lin Jie closed in.

He entered the inner circle of the three-section rod's attack range.

This was the dead zone for long weapons and paradise for short ones.

"Got you."

Lin Jie barked, and the Silencer in his right hand turned into a gray-white afterimage as it slashed fiercely at the wrist that held the weapon.

The slash was perfect in both angle and timing.

Even as a martial master, at that distance Yan Xilou could not fully evade this long-prepared counterattack.

"Phut!"

A wound appeared on Yan Xilou's wrist and blood spurted out. Worse, a deadly toxin invading his nervous system and a force rapidly numbing surrounding muscles spread from the cut.

Yan Xilou's right hand trembled, and the three-section rod that had been as obedient as an arm lost control and clattered to the ground.

"Finished."

Lin Jie did not stop; he prepared to press the advantage and cut the opponent's throat directly.

But at that moment, he saw Yan Xilou's eyes.

Those clear eyes revealed a trace of regret, even pity.

"Brother Lin, you still don't understand."

Yan Xilou's voice remained steady.

"The Yellow River flows down from the heavens, rushing to the sea, never to return."

"Water is something that cannot be cleaved."

"Similarly, my weapon... is not merely held in my hand."

Before he finished speaking, Yan Xilou's left hand, which had been kept behind his back, suddenly shot out. That hand made an extremely complex, almost Taoist-like hand-seizing motion in the air.

The three-section rod that had fallen to the ground was drawn by an invisible magnetic field, bouncing counter to gravity and leaping up like a sentient serpent, coiling around Yan Xilou's left arm.

There was no awkwardness.

No misstep.

The weapon in his left hand erupted with a fiercer, stranger, and far less predictable terror than when controlled by his right hand.

Left-hand blade, right-hand sword.

Dual-wielding is common in the martial world.

But to train such a complex, micro-precision soft weapon to be perfectly balanced in both hands—left even stronger than right—was almost a miracle that defied the body's neural structure.

"Huu—"

The murky yellow rod-shadow once again enveloped Lin Jie. This time the assault was formless; it infiltrated his defensive circle from all directions and every gap.

Lin Jie had to abandon his offense and, using Black Mercury's slip ability, staggeringly fell back.

The wind whipped by the rod's tip carved a blood streak across his face.

If he had not retreated quickly, that strike would have already shattered his skull.

"Not bad," Lin Jie panted, looking at the man who spun the three-section rod with impenetrable left-hand control.

Yan Xilou glanced at his right hand, now completely numbed and showing a gray-black hue, and gave a bitter smile.

"This hand is ruined," he said calmly, "but for the path we walk, it is only a trivial price."

He raised his left hand and the rod's tip pointed at Lin Jie.

"Again."

...

While the two at the altar were locked in stalemate, the situation on the flanking battlefield was rapidly deteriorating to Lin Jie's side's extreme disadvantage.

Although Evelyn had used that generator to create a thunderstorm zone clearing a large area at the start of the fight, the number of modified beast-men and Black Lotus members was simply too great.

"Damn it! Endless!"

Julian crouched behind the high platform's cover, swapping out an overheating magazine while firing short bursts at the monsters trying to climb up.

But he could feel his mental strength draining at an alarming rate.

Though Discipline granted him perfect-hit ability, its side effect—each shot imposing rule oppression—was giving him excruciating headaches.

His vision began to blur; the absolutely rational worldview in his head was fracturing.

Worse yet,

he was not a close-combat fighter.

When a gecko-sucked beast-man silently crept up the high platform from a shadowed dead zone and leaped at him from the side, Julian had no time to reposition the muzzle.

"Bang!"

He could only use the gun butt to instinctively block the creature's claws.

Though he deflected the fatal strike, the brutal impact sent him flying backward and crashing hard against the console behind him.

A sharp pain seared his left rib where the monster's claws had sliced open his side.

"Hiss—"

The scaled creature launched itself again, intent on tearing this fragile hunter apart.

Julian struggled to lift his gun, but his arm was too weak from pain and exhaustion to raise properly.

At this life-or-death moment, he drew the black wooden staff that had been stuck at his waist with his other hand.

Withered Thorns.

This defensive armament from the Druidic order was his last means of survival.

"Order... attenuation!"

Julian gritted his teeth and recited the activation phrase.

A decay-tinged field radiated outward centered on him.

The leaping gecko-man seemed to plunge into a pool of viscous glue; its movements slowed and stiffened, the once-rapid pounce reduced to a ludicrous slow-motion replay.

But this was only a temporary measure.

The attenuation field could only delay the enemy's motion; it could not inflict lethal damage.

And within this field, Julian's own movements were equally affected.

Watching the monstrous, though slowed, figure relentlessly close in, a wave of despair rose in his chest.

After all, he was a scholar.

Not a warrior.

Just as the scaly claw was about to touch his throat,

a raw, primal roar came up from below the platform.

"Get away!"

With that cry, a lithe figure sprang up from a lower conduit and landed on the platform.

Nadia.

The Dayak huntress stood drenched in enemy blood, her Parang already nicked, and her leather armor riven with cracks.

But her momentum was stronger than at any prior moment.

She shoved the gravely wounded Julian aside and put her body between him and the gecko-man.

"You're dead meat."

Though slowed, the gecko-man's strength was still terrifying; it swung its claws to rip the defiant woman apart.

Nadia tore the bone necklace she treasured from around her neck.

At once, the thumb bone—smooth and warm from handling, belonging to her father—flared with a chilling blood-red light.

This was not a mere charm.

It was the true sacred relic, sealed with secret rites by generations of Dayak chiefs and High Priests to house the tribe's guardian spirit.

Grotesque Armament—Skull-Hunter's Guidance.

"In the name of our ancestors! Lend me your battle soul!"

Nadia drove the thumb bone viciously into her palm, blood soaking the bone.

"Boom!"

A visible crimson murderous aura gushed from her body.

From that blood mist, the phantom image of an ancient Dayak warrior wearing a huge feathered crown and carrying a spear and shield materialized behind her.

The phantom uttered a silent battle-cry.

Nadia's eyes became pure blood-red. Her muscles swelled like they were being pumped full, and from her fatigued body poured an endless stream of berserk strength.

The ordinary Parang in her hand was endowed with a kind of divinity at that instant.

"Kill!"

She swung the blade down.

The speed of that cut was so fast the Withered Thorns' attenuation field could not bind it.

"Phut!"

The gecko-man never saw what hit it; its head separated from its neck and spun into the air.

Nadia stood in a pool of blood, panting heavily. The warrior phantom behind her slowly dissipated and folded back into the thumb bone.

She turned and offered a blood-stained hand to the slumped Julian.

"Can you stand? Bookworm."

Julian looked at the girl and at the fierce, exhausted light still burning in her eyes.

He gripped her hand.

"Of course."

Julian used her support to stand, poured a bottle of styptic onto his wound, and then picked up the Discipline from the ground.

"Thanks."

"Save it," Nadia grinned, "keep your strength to fight out."

She looked down at the battlefield.

"Lin needs us."

Yes.

At the altar's center,

Lin Jie faced unprecedented pressure.

Even with one hand ruined, Yan Xilou still used his nearly demonic left hand to spin the Nine-Bend Yellow River into an impenetrable yellow curtain of light, pressing Lin Jie into a cramped corner.

But Lin Jie had not given up.

He waited.

Waiting for his teammates to clear the trash mobs and reestablish that flawless triangular formation.

And waiting...

for the ambusher that had been eyeing the moment and had finished charging to find the best insertion timing.

"Evelyn!"

After dodging three consecutive lethal attacks, Lin Jie suddenly shouted.

Evelyn, crouched by the generator and furiously cranking the hand charger, looked up.

All the indicator lights on her Tesla Coil Glove had turned green, showing full charge.

"I'm here!"

"Give him something brutal!"

Lin Jie dropped into a squat to dodge another horizontal sweep.

Behind him,

a blinding blue arc of electricity tore through the air toward the white-clad figure.

Round two.

Begins.