Come Deceive, Come Ambush!

"Professor Beshe, you only just finished work at this hour?"

"Yes, yes, hehe. The project is in its final stage, after all. We can't afford the slightest carelessness..."

"Ah, Professor Beshe, sorry, but duty compels me to ask—who is this?"

"Aleppo? This boy is my eldest grandson, and he's also Chairman Don Juan's Elite Guard. I think you've met before."

"The Elite Guard... Hiss—but Professor, the rules of our laboratory..."

"Ah, please, make an exception for me. Ever since I was injured by the Vessel last month, this old body of mine has been getting more and more useless. I happen to need a trustworthy attendant now, so who could be more trustworthy than my own grandson, right?"

"This... Ah, forget it. But Professor, remember to register him tomorrow morning."

Listening to Professor Beshe's hoarse, subdued small talk, as well as the fear in the military policeman's voice upon hearing the name of the Elite Guard, Lude quietly shifted his body. To avoid alerting Professor Beshe, he had remained still for so long that his limbs had begun to go numb.

Fortunately, judging from the map Siana had given him, Lude estimated that they were about to leave this stronghold.

Yet Lude was no longer in such a hurry. For some reason, sitting inside this leather bag gave him a strange sense of comfort. No matter how he thought it over, he could not figure out why. It could not be because this thing has an affinity with me, could it?

Namo Amitabha. In the north, Amitabha and the Bodhisattvas receive all souls. This was also one aspect of the Age of Dharma Decline. How good, how good...

Come to think of it, Lude believed in no religion, but neither was he an atheist. He was a thoroughgoing pragmatist. Just as he had relied on Buddhist scriptures to steady his mind in his previous life, he would not hesitate to worship any supernatural being in this life either... as long as it worked.

At that moment, Lude sensed that they had finally left the stronghold and boarded a carriage.

The carriage crossed four streets. Lude could vaguely hear people on the roads crying out as they sold newspapers and seasonal flowers. Pleasant violin music drifted from both sides of the street, while the faint, fragrant scent of baked bread hung in the air.

Ah, baked bread, Lude thought. Once he got away safely, he had to go eat his fill.

Heavens above, he had been trapped in that stronghold for so long that, in order not to arouse suspicion, he could only survive on the glucose stored in the medicine cabinet. In his previous life, he had been a true-blue food lover. By now, he was nearly going mad from holding himself back!

The carriage turned down another two streets before finally entering an alley. It seemed they had finally arrived.

Lude immediately felt Professor Beshe, supported by Aleppo, climb three flights of stairs. The creaking wooden floorboards indicated that this building was likely quite old. Then Lude heard a series of doors opening and closing, until their footsteps finally stopped.

"Whew, whew... I'm exhausted. I really am useless now that I'm old. Aleppo, get ready. Let's begin."

As Professor Beshe spoke, the waist pouch seemed to be placed atop a table. Then thin strands of light spilled through an ever-widening gap onto Lude's face, and he saw Professor Beshe's aged, decaying features.

Silently, Lude hunched his body, gathering himself like a hunting tiger poised to strike.

Siana had once said that among the thirteen spellcasters present, Don Juan, she, and Bescher were overwhelmingly stronger than the others.

Facing this one-hundred-and-eighteen-year-old old comrade, Lude's only chance to resist was to deceive him, ambush him.

The instant his eyes met Lude's, obvious shock appeared on Professor Beshe's face.

Professor Beshe clearly could not understand, for the moment, why the Vessel had changed its posture or why it was staring at him with such a look.

What is going on? Didn't Miss Siana already purify the Vessel?!

Yet in the instant Professor Beshe froze in confusion, Lude's iron fist had already smashed viciously into his chest.

First came the shirt, yellowed somewhat by sulfurous vapor. Then came aged, brittle flesh and skin. After that came fragile bones.

Lude's punch met almost no resistance as it drove straight through Professor Beshe's chest!

The punch entered through his front chest, crushing ribs, lungs, and spine all the way through before bursting out from Professor Beshe's back.

Lude struck with a killing blow from the very start. The instant he punched, he had already leaped from the small bag. With a mere swing of his arm, Professor Beshe, hanging from it along with his still-wet blood, was flung away.

As Professor Beshe slammed into the wall, blood gushed from his wound and splattered across Aleppo's face.

Aleppo blinked, seemingly not yet understanding what had happened. Trembling, he raised a hand and wiped the blood from his face. Looking at his blood-red palm, he finally realized what had happened and let out a shrill scream—

"Grandfather—!!!"

Lude did not let this peerless opportunity slip away. He planted his feet, twisted his waist, and swung his casserole-sized iron fist at Aleppo's chest. Lude had not learned any systematic fighting techniques in his previous life, but now, brute force was all he needed!

Lude was simply too fast. Before Aleppo could even react, Lude's iron fist had already arrived.

In that instant, Lude's knuckles touched the brass button on Aleppo's chest. He felt Aleppo's coat deforming and tearing beneath his iron fist. His fist punched straight through along with the shattered button, and then...

Lude's expression gradually froze. Behind these clothes, why did there seem to be... nothing at all?!!

His target was clearly standing right in front of him, yet his fist felt as though it had merely struck clothes hanging on a coat rack. That alien sensation, like a dead fish's open mouth, sent an indescribable chill down Lude's spine!

At that very moment, Aleppo finally came to his senses and immediately launched a furious strike at Lude!

Who knew what mechanism was fitted over the fingers beneath Aleppo's glove? He gave a slight pull with his right ring finger and little finger, and a foot-long, narrow blade flashing with a cold, sinister gleam sprang from his sleeve, slashing straight for Lude's throat.

Unfortunately, Lude's reaction speed far surpassed Aleppo's. With a light leap backward, he avoided the strike.

The distance between them instantly widened to more than five meters. The moment Lude's toes touched the ground, his mind rapidly analyzed what had just happened, considering exactly what method Aleppo had used to evade that fatal blow.

That was clearly some kind of supernatural method, but it was definitely not conventional spellcasting. Lude was certain of that.

Siana had said that rituals, sacrifices, magical implements, materials, and even echoes were all essential to spellcasting. Even Professor Beshe, a master of spellcraft, needed to chant a ritual before casting. Yet Aleppo's move had completely violated that principle.

Thinking of it this way, Siana had indeed briefly mentioned that some spellcasters possessed an ability known as a [Secret Art].

A Secret Art was essentially a spellcaster's unique spell, born from Soul Fire warped by intense desire. Since no two people in the world possessed exactly the same fate, talent, temperament, and desire, naturally no two Secret Arts could ever be entirely identical.

Secret Arts were rare spells that required no external conditions and could be cast using only Psionic Energy.

No ritual needed to be prepared, no materials consumed, no magical implement held, no assistance from others required. So long as the user was present, it could be unleashed with a single thought—a spell no one had ever seen before, and no one knew how to counter.

Thus, those [Arcanists] capable of wielding Secret Arts were also known as the combat faction among spellcasters.

Unfortunately, Siana only knew that every member of the Elite Guard was an Arcanist. She did not know the specifics of their Secret Arts. Secret Arts were secret by nature, after all. Besides, the Elite Guard handled fieldwork while the Research Department handled development. It was already considered a lot if they met a few times a year.

At that moment, Aleppo's gaze locked onto Lude. His bloodshot eyes, swollen with rage, were filled with hatred for him.

Without hesitation, he drew a revolver from his waist, gripping its carved ebony handle tightly as he aimed the barrel straight between Lude's brows—

"Eat lead, you bastard!"