"I really wanted to find someone to try it out on... Mr. Oystercatcher?"
Gilan murmured, then shook his head.
"He won't do. He's too weak. What if I can't control my strength and kick him to death?"
After weighing it over, he decided to head to the fourth-floor attic and practice there. It had sturdy training dummies, which should let him test the power of "Bone-Crushing Kick."
Before that, though, Gilan decided to use up his remaining 5 points of Mystic Energy.
He pulled the palm-sized Colt Snubnose Revolver from his waist and thought to himself:
I only know how to handle a Double-Barreled Shotgun, but handguns are the most commonly used weapons. Besides, I can store the shotgun in my dimensional space and keep it as a trump card for catching people off guard, so I'd better not use it casually... Maybe I should improve my handgun skills instead.
Gilan gripped the revolver's handle with his right hand and thought:
Iridescence.
The colored "5" in the corner of his vision flickered, then changed back to "0."
Suddenly, a wealth of knowledge and techniques related to snubnose revolvers appeared in Gilan's mind, and his body instantly grew familiar with the revolver in his hand.
Like a veteran gunman who had used handguns for years.
With a swish, Gilan flicked his right ring finger, making the snubnose revolver spin in his hand.
He swung his right arm, lining up his eye, the rear sight, and the front sight. He aimed straight at a great tit perched on a tree outside the window, then flicked his right hand and tossed the revolver into his left, aiming at a rounded knob on the hat stand in the corner.
Swish, swish...
The revolver passed back and forth between his hands as he aimed at all sorts of small objects around him: the wall clock, the edge of the table, the doorknob, the lampshade, and the decorative vase.
Gilan was confident he could hit any tiny target in the room.
Click.
The revolver landed in his right hand again. His thumb pressed the cylinder release, popping the cylinder free and spinning it.
Gilan took the 9mm bullets Miss Seagull had given him from his pocket. His left hand moved up and down, his fingers nimble as a pianist's, and in less than two seconds he loaded all six gleaming brass bullets into the cylinder, then snapped it shut.
Excellent.
Gilan nodded in satisfaction.
He loaded the remaining bullets into two speedloaders ahead of time, gathered them up, and tucked them into his pocket.
Then he got up, left the room, and headed to the apartment building's fourth-floor attic.
After closing the attic door, he picked a training dummy and stopped three meters in front of it.
"Phew..."
Gilan took a deep breath, his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands relaxed at his sides.
His gaze rested calmly on the dummy's head.
Suddenly, he moved—
He surged forward with astonishing speed, covering two steps in the blink of an eye. Twisting his waist to the left, he bent his right leg and kicked forward with force, like an unstoppable steel spear!
His gray-black trouser leg blurred through the air, striking the dummy's head in an instant!
BANG!!
The deafening crash rang out.
The dummy's ten-pound head flew off, striking the wall like a twisted, misshapen ball and leaving a dent. It ricocheted through the air, then bounced off the ceiling before crashing heavily to the floor!
Thud, thud, thud, thud!!
The sound echoed through the attic for a long time. Gilan looked a little surprised.
Good thing I didn't try it on Mr. Oystercatcher... he thought. That kick would have blown his head apart, wouldn't it?
He picked up the dummy's head and examined it.
To Gilan's astonishment, the head in his hands had been crushed inward. The several layers of cowhide covering it had burst, and cotton was spilling out. A half-centimeter layer of sheet iron inside had been caved in, exposing the solid hardwood core beneath. That, too, was cracked to pieces; even a slight movement sent handfuls of splinters raining down.
He carried the ruined head over to the dummy and noticed that the steel rod holding it in place had bent back at a ninety-degree angle. The "Bone-Crushing Kick" he had just used was responsible.
No wonder that vice captain of the Healing Knights developed this kicking technique. It really is powerful...
Gilan was very pleased with the secret technique he had mastered, but soon frowned.
Still, I've broken the training dummy...
At half past three in the afternoon, the sun was already sinking low.
The light of dusk fell over Black City. The wealthy Horst district on the mountainside was lined with tall buildings, their straight shadows falling across the streets like black slashes.
Miss Sparrow was riding alone in a hired carriage, heading home.
Golden light flickered across her face.
She sighed uneasily and murmured:
"I'm getting home so late again. I hope Father won't be angry."
Miss Sparrow almost never spent the night at The Assembly's apartment. Her family was strict, and her father had always raised her by the standards of a proper lady.
How could an unmarried lady spend the night away from home without good reason? If word got around, the Laurie family would never live it down.
Besides, she knew full well that her father had worked unimaginably hard to go from an obscure technician to a wealthy businessman who now owned three factories and two shops.
Her father had always wanted to earn the recognition and respect of others.
But merchants had little standing in the Bremen Empire. Even with considerable wealth, they still meant nothing in the eyes of the true upper class, especially powerful politicians and nobles.
That was why her father had always been determined to raise her as a true aristocratic lady.
Of course, her late mother was also a factor... Her mother's family had always looked down on her father.
Her father had a grudge he couldn't let go of.
When the carriage passed through Horst Fifth District and reached a commercial street near Daffodil Square, Miss Sparrow got out by the roadside.
At a rate of 2 Melang per kilometer, she paid the driver 1 Pfennig for the fare, plus a 5-Melang tip. She left gracefully amid the driver's bow and delighted praise.
She hadn't gone far when she saw a couple walking toward her.
Their clothes were rather cheap. The woman wore a simple, dark-yellow dress, her hair pinned up and covered with a linen head wrap. Her makeup—cheap foundation and lipstick—was typical of a working-class woman.
Her husband wore blue-black work clothes and an old leather beret.
"Good day, Miss Aurora Laurie." The woman smiled ingratiatingly, clasped her hands, and bowed. "What a pleasure to run into you."
"The pleasure's mine." Miss Sparrow stopped and smiled. "Has the factory let out? Are you going to buy something, or...?"
The couple worked at one of her family's businesses, the Glass Glass Factory. The factory offered good benefits, and its owner, Foz Laurie—Miss Sparrow's father—treated his workers kindly. Naturally, they held his daughter in high regard as well.
"Yes, miss. We've finished for the day." The man beside his wife awkwardly took off his hat and smiled nervously.
"Your father, Mr. Foz Laurie, treats us workers very well. He only asks us to work seven hours a day, but still pays us a whole Melang, and sometimes even gives us bonuses... My wife and I can head home early like this and buy some food to make a hot dinner for the children."
He smiled, looking honest and simple.
"Father was an excellent worker once, just like you. He understands how hard you work and knows what you need." Miss Sparrow smiled and stepped aside to let them pass. "Well, I won't keep you from going home. The children must be waiting impatiently, right?"
"You're not keeping us at all, you're not..." The man hurriedly waved his hands.
His wife seemed to notice that Miss Sparrow was in a hurry, so she quietly tugged at her husband's sleeve. They quickly said goodbye to Miss Sparrow and hurried off.
Miss Sparrow watched them go, seemingly happy for them. Her unease about her father scolding her eased a little, too.
A short while later,
she arrived at a three-story apartment building in Horst Fifth District. It belonged to Mr. Foz Laurie, and it was also the home of Aurora Laurie.
She opened the iron gate. Two maids tending the flowers and pulling weeds in the small garden hurried to greet her.
"Miss Aurora."
"Thank you for your hard work," Miss Sparrow replied with a smile.
She hurried to the entrance, stopping before the grand double doors of carved white oak. Taking a deep breath, she gently rested her hand on the doorknob and pushed, then cautiously peered inside.
The next moment, Miss Sparrow froze.
A middle-aged man with graying hair, wearing a suit vest and a goatee, sat upright on the sofa. His stern face was furrowed in a frown as he watched her in silence.
"Father... Miss Amoret was so hospitable. She kept me talking about her dog, Pat, and gardening. I lost track of time. I'm sorry." Miss Sparrow put on a sweet smile and slowly stepped inside.
Just as she was growing anxious under her father's gaze, he sighed. Worry showed between his brows as he patted the sofa, motioning for her to come over.
"Father?" Miss Sparrow could tell he wasn't acting like himself, so she hurried over and sat down. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"No, Aurora." Mr. Foz lowered his head, his voice heavy.
"It's the Louis Family. They plan to report us to the authorities for failing to follow the Empire's 'twelve-hour workday.' We'll face a heavy fine, and I could even be sent to prison..."
Thanks to "Transcender of the Heavens" for the 100,000 reward!