The King of Talking Tough

Bang...

"Ah!"

'Defeat in battle. Experience Points +5.'

Bang...

"Yah!"

'Defeat in battle. Experience Points +5.'

'Sufficient experience. Current Thief level: Lv1.'

Bang...

"Oh!"

'Defeat in battle. Experience Points +5. Learned skill: Weapon Mastery.'

'Weapon Mastery Lv0: Accuracy +1.'

Half a day of sparring came to an end.

Allen was already unrecognizable.

He had been sent flying again and again, only to get back up again and again. His face was so swollen that his eyes had narrowed into slits.

At the same time, system prompts appeared in his mind one after another.

"Training is over for today. Go find Chelsea to treat your external injuries. We'll continue tomorrow."

Nyssa finally vented her anger, and she could not help feeling thoroughly refreshed in both body and mind.

She had still underestimated Allen's endurance. He had not surrendered or begged for mercy. Either there was something wrong with his head, or he was genuinely suited to be trained into a qualified warrior.

"I won't admit defeat over something this minor. I swear on my current and former girlfriends."

As he spoke, Allen raised both hands, indicating that his right hand was his current girlfriend and his left hand was his former one.

In Allen's view, every part of his body could go soft except his mouth.

"Very good. I look forward to your performance tomorrow."

Nyssa left with great satisfaction. She liked stubborn people like that—then she could plant seeds of fear in their hearts bit by bit.

He turned left after leaving and followed the signs toward the infirmary.

Ra's al Ghul had lived for centuries and studied under many masters, gathering quite a few medicinal recipes along the way. After all, martial artists inevitably got injured.

The League of Assassins' growth and strength owed much to its healing medicine. Otherwise, if they trained a pile of cripples, who would risk their lives for them?

"Well, if it isn't Allen. It's only been half a day, and I can barely recognize you."

What a coincidence, running into love around the corner.

Talia greeted him with obvious sarcasm.

On Allen's first day, he had mocked her figure for not being as good as Nyssa's, so the two had formed a grudge.

However, Allen had never lost to anyone when it came to verbal sparring.

He immediately placed one hand behind his head, braced his elbow against the wall, put his other hand on his hip, crossed his legs, and assumed his talking-tough stance.

"So it's my dear Talia. Did you pretend to run into me because you were worried about me?"

A self-proclaimed dashing smile appeared on Allen's swollen face. "I know, I know. After all, you can't hide the way you look at someone you love. You're afraid I'll become obsessed with Nyssa."

Talia instantly looked as though she had swallowed a pound of flies.

She must have been full and bored to provoke a mental patient.

Pretending not to hear him, she quickened her pace and passed him by. She decided to stay far away from that lunatic in the future, or she might end up abnormal along with him.

She had spent most of her life practicing martial arts. How could she possibly out-argue the king of talking tough? The only solution she could think of was to stab him.

"Talia, running away won't solve the problem."

"Love should be spoken aloud. Gather the courage to confess my love to you. I hope your love won't wander any longer. With you in this life, my days will be dazzling and colorful..."

He could not stop his talking-tough stance.

Allen began singing a love song with deep feeling.

His singing sounded like a death-dealing demonic tune. Talia covered her ears with both hands and went from walking quickly to fleeing for her life. She truly did not want to stay another second.

"Pfft. She doesn't dare face her own heart."

Allen narcissistically remarked at leisure, "Running away will only make her more obsessed."

Yah!

When he turned around, he saw Nyssa staring at him with a strange expression.

She had worried that Allen would not be able to find the infirmary, so she had turned back to lead him there. By chance, she had witnessed that scene.

Honestly, seeing Talia suffer put Nyssa in a better mood than receiving praise from her father, Ra's al Ghul.

"I'll go easier on you tomorrow."

"Are you confessing to me?"

"..."

Clearly, Allen's talking-tough stance had not entered its cooldown period. He instantly wounded a teammate by mistake.

Nyssa had intended to use him to make Talia suffer, but he was simply an uncontrollable factor. Once he got serious, he fired indiscriminately.

Seeing Nyssa flee, Allen could not help sweeping his hair back. "I know you're both attracted to me. I can see that you're playing hard to get. I really am exceptionally talented. Sigh, being charming is such a headache. But I remain utterly faithful to Little Right."

"Little Left, stop it. You're only my ex. Please keep your distance."

Mental patients had plenty of fun. Allen was never alone; Little Left and Little Right stayed faithfully by his side, occasionally staging melodramatic jealous love triangles.

Creak.

The infirmary door was half pushed open, and a severely swollen, unrecognizable face peeked inside.

Chelsea, who had been studying an ancient text, froze briefly. After three seconds of silence, he recognized the visitor and said with a kindly smile, "Allen, come in and sit."

He was a non-combat member of the League of Assassins, serving full-time as an apothecary. He specialized in developing all kinds of medicine for the organization. His status was second only to The Ninja Master's, though he held little actual authority.

This was their second meeting.

The first had been when Nyssa brought Allen back.

At the time, Allen had been nearly frozen to death. Chelsea had restored him to full health with his superb medical skills.

"Old Chelsea, arrange some cosmetic surgery for me. It doesn't need to make me handsome, but it has to be amazing."

"I'm a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner."

"If you can't do it, just say so. Why make excuses?"

Chelsea stood and rummaged through the medicine cabinet, pulling out a jar of ointment. He knew exactly what Allen was like—if he said too much, Allen would only get more excited.

"This medicine treats external injuries. It promotes blood circulation, disperses bruising, and accelerates healing and growth. Don't apply too much. Keep the rest for yourself, and come get more when you run out."

He did not particularly dislike Allen, but he could not stand Allen bothering him every few days. So he might as well give him extra healing ointment and avoid seeing him every day.

"Growth?!"

Allen's focus was often different from ordinary people's. Of the ointment's effects, he remembered only those two words. The smile on his face grew even brighter as he lowered his head to look at his lower body.

Cough, cough...

Chelsea solemnly warned, "Put away your unrealistic thoughts, or you will lose it."

"Listen to you. I've always been quite satisfied with my size."

Allen gave an awkward smile, concealing his true thoughts.

Naturally, Chelsea deeply doubted that. One should never believe a mental patient's words; even they did not know what they were doing.

Holding the jar of ointment, Allen returned to his bedroom and applied the pungent medicine while looking in the mirror.

Its cool sensation numbed the pain, and the effect was extremely noticeable.

It was the League of Assassins' exclusive secret formula. A low-end version could have been sold publicly through a company.

Supporting such a large organization cost an astronomical sum every year. Surely no one thought that taking assassination commissions alone could maintain the balance of income and expenses.

The annual investment to train a single warrior was no less than fifty thousand dollars.

Snow Mountain Base alone housed over a hundred people. Add the members of secret bases like Purgatory Island, mission operation funds, building repair costs, equipment depreciation, medicine procurement, and various other expenses, and it amounted to at least a hundred million dollars.

Character: Allen (1/10)

Class: Lv5 Thief

Skill: Lv1 Weapon Mastery

Time: The League of Assassins, 1981.

Requirement: Reach Lv120 in the current class to return to the original timeline.

Lying on the bed, Allen stared blankly at the Status Panel before suddenly realizing, "So I transmigrated into the League of Assassins. Based on the timeline, I might run into..."