Sherlock the Impaler (Part 1)

Tony's Mark One armor was limited by its materials, and the programming process had been interrupted by Sherlock's water. Even with Sherlock using alchemy to help activate it, its self-diagnostic remained painfully slow.

That gave Sherlock ample time to handle his own business. After all, one reason he had agreed to rescue Tony was to test his divine artifact, while the other was to intimidate Hydra.

For a transmigrator like Sherlock, who had been a rabbit in his previous life, if you asked him what made the best deterrent against enemies, he would probably answer without hesitation in two words.

A mound of heads!

But if Sherlock really built a mound of heads, then whenever Hydra came looking for trouble in the future, they would probably do so under the banner of eliminating evil. After all, compared to simple slaughter, a mound of heads involved beheading and stacking them up.

Therefore, Sherlock needed a method that could intimidate Hydra without allowing them to claim the moral high ground. After all, Hydra was still wearing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s shell.

That alone meant Sherlock could not use such an extreme method to intimidate them.

And as it happened, there really was a method that could intimidate Hydra without being quite so extreme. Most importantly, it was still remarkably effective!

Impalement!

If those two words did not sound familiar, then adding the full title should make Sherlock's intentions clear. After all, the man who invented this method had gone down in history.

The Impaler, Vlad III Țepeș!

If you still did not recognize that name or epithet, then you would certainly know the fictional figure based on him.

Dracula!

That was right—the famous progenitor of vampires, Dracula.

And Sherlock intended to imitate the Impaler, turning this valley into a living hell so that Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. would hopefully stop disturbing his life.

More importantly, this was also one of the simplest applications of Sherlock's alchemical abilities.

After walking out of that foul-smelling cave, Sherlock saw John Wick and Ethan just around the bend.

Ethan had curled into a ball behind John Wick, clearly terrified by the hail of gunfire.

That was only normal. Ethan having the courage to take a gun and buy Tony time to escape did not mean he was not afraid of death. Especially on a battlefield, with bullets tearing past him at high speed, an untrained ordinary person would not have performed much better than Ethan.

As for John Wick, his Night Devil title was certainly well-earned. With one long gun, he had practically turned its three-round bursts into a rhythm.

Every gunshot represented a life lost. John Wick, alone with a single gun, had forced the terrorists on the other side into hiding, too afraid to show themselves again.

Seeing Sherlock emerge from the cave, John Wick finally tossed aside the empty AK in his hands, casually drew the pistol at his waist, and rolled his eyes at Sherlock in irritation.

"If you'd taken any longer, I would've had no choice but to take this guy back into the cave! There are too many of them!"

Sherlock paid no mind to John Wick's complaint. Instead, he smiled warmly and said, "Don't worry. Leave the rest to me. Just take care of our Dr. Ethan!"

After saying that, Sherlock lightly tapped himself twice with the long gun in his hand, then strode out openly.

Ethan instinctively wanted to stop Sherlock as he walked out, but the next second, both Ethan and John Wick stared at him in stunned disbelief.

The reason was simple. The sight surrounding Sherlock was simply too magnificent.

The instant Sherlock stepped out, countless bullets came flying at him from all directions like a swarm of locusts.

Yet those bullets, which could have blasted a man into pulp, transformed into pristine white petals before they could touch Sherlock's body. They brushed softly across him before drifting down to the ground.

As Sherlock continued forward, he forcibly left behind a path made of white petals.

If that had been all, neither John Wick nor Ethan would have been overly shocked. They would only have praised it as gorgeous. But Sherlock was not merely transforming the bullets fired at him. The long gun in his hand was also swinging continuously.

The weapon should have been meant for close combat, yet in Sherlock's hands, it had become a scythe capable of harvesting lives from afar.

Wherever its tip passed, countless stone spikes erupted from the ground. Whether they were attacking Sherlock or running away, they were skewered by those spikes and hoisted into the air.

Most crucially, those who were impaled did not die immediately. Blood splattered everywhere as wails filled the valley. Scarlet blood sprayed across the white petals Sherlock had passed through, and together with the cries rising all around, it formed a strange yet magnificent painting of hell that slowly unfolded before John Wick and Ethan.

Gradually, the sound of gunfire vanished from the entire valley. Only Sherlock's advancing footsteps and the agonized wails of those not yet dead remained.

Faced with such a scene, not only Ethan, an ordinary man, but even John Wick, who had seen much and had countless lives' blood on his hands, felt his scalp go numb.

For an assassin like John Wick, killing was nothing more than heads hitting the ground. Taking a life was simply an ordinary job, nothing more.

But Sherlock's actions were clearly different. They inspired a terror that made one feel as though their soul itself were trembling.

John Wick had understood from the very beginning why Sherlock had accepted the mission to rescue Tony, but when he truly witnessed Sherlock's so-called "deterrence," his scalp still went numb.

"W-w-we... w-w-what are we s-s-supposed to do now?"

Poor Ethan was trembling from fright at the sight before him, yet he still gathered the courage to ask John Wick beside him. After all, this man had just saved his life. No matter what, Ethan's trust in John Wick had already taken root.

Hearing Ethan's question, John Wick lowered his head and thought for a moment before gritting his teeth and saying to him, "Follow him!"

At John Wick's words, Ethan trembled even harder. After all, he did not know Sherlock at all. He was genuinely afraid Sherlock would inexplicably skewer him into a human kebab too.

Honestly, if that happened, Ethan would rather be shot to death.

At least being shot to death would not mean suffering endless torment before dying, like those people who had been impaled.