Memories flashed through his mind, frame after frame.
A knife-hand strike, the right angle, a precise burst of force.
Evan's body moved.
He dropped to both knees, pinning Gilbert's arms beneath them and holding the frenzied monster to the ground.
His left hand clamped around Gilbert's jaw and wrenched it upward.
A stretch of pale neck lay exposed. Beside his Adam's apple, a lump the size of a pigeon egg pulsed slowly beneath the skin. Each throb forced a muffled growl from Gilbert's throat.
Evan held his right hand straight, fingers pressed together.
With precision and without hesitation, he chopped down on the pulsing bulge.
"Urgh..."
The lump burst beneath his hand, and some kind of viscous liquid seeped under the skin and into Gilbert's body.
Gilbert's body convulsed twice beneath him.
Then the strength rapidly drained from him. His muscles went slack, and the dark red faded from his eyes, leaving them a lifeless gray-white.
He collapsed onto the Coal Slag ground like a sack with its bones pulled out, his chest rising and falling faintly.
He wasn't dead, but he had lost his Combat Strength.
Evan climbed off him and brushed the Coal Slag from his knees.
Looking down at Gilbert, whom he had subdued, Evan felt a peculiar sense of accomplishment.
It was like finally killing his first monster in a game's starting village and earning a hefty chunk of experience.
"Looks like the Demon Hunter Characteristic I absorbed last night has sharpened my sense of smell. That's why I was the only one who smelled blood."
He looked down at his palm.
"And the Demon Hunters' knowledge and combat experience have quietly become part of my instincts."
"I don't have to recall them consciously. They surface on their own when something triggers them."
It felt like a song he knew by heart.
Ask him to recite the lyrics, and he couldn't do it.
But the moment the melody started, he could sing along and get every line right.
And Monsters...
They were the melody of the Demon Hunters.
"Demon Hunters. Looks like I'll have to encounter more Monsters to fully absorb the knowledge in this Characteristic."
Evan silently drew his conclusion.
Isn't this just the acting method from Lord of the Mysteries?
His eighteen years as a veteran webnovel reader had given him the perfect comparison for what he was experiencing.
The Demon Hunters' legacy wasn't inert knowledge written in a book. It was a store of instinctive responses that had to be activated in combat.
The closer he got to real monsters, the more of those dormant memories would awaken.
While Evan was turning this over in his mind, the field fell silent.
The crimson sun sank behind the rooftops to the west, staining the entire Coal Slag field a still, solid orange.
Lane, John, and the students in shabby clothes stood frozen, eyes wide with shock.
Farther away, the wealthy young ladies who had been screaming and scattering had stopped too. They covered their mouths, disbelief written across their faces.
The way they looked at Evan no longer held the disdain they reserved for "poor boys." They looked at him as though something had entered their world that defied everything they knew.
People were instinctively drawn to strength.
Especially at the instant someone saved them from danger, when gratitude and admiration could swell beyond measure.
And that sequence of moves Evan had just performed—
Rising the moment he smelled blood, throwing Gilbert over his shoulder, then landing a precise strike that ended the fight.
Clean and decisive, without a wasted movement.
He was like a Knight adventurer straight out of a cheap novel.
In the distance, several school security guards hurried over with wooden clubs raised.
The middle-aged guard in front frowned sharply when he saw Evan standing in the middle of the field.
"You again?"
This middle-aged man was one of the witnesses who had seen Evan kill Lebon and the other three in the lobby of the main Teaching Building that day.
As far as he was concerned, the skinny student in the patched jacket was a reckless madman.
Before Evan could explain, a clear voice came from behind him.
"Sir, please don't misunderstand. Arkham was protecting us. That poor student suddenly went berserk."
A slender figure stepped out from the group of girls.
She raised a hand and pointed at Gilbert, who was still twitching faintly on the ground.
Only then did the guard notice the limp body. His wary expression turned grave.
He turned to his companion and said something in a low voice.
"Go tell Professor Byron. Quickly."
His voice was so quiet the wind nearly carried it away.
But Evan's ears, repeatedly sharpened by Aspirin, caught every syllable.
Professor Byron.
The name stirred something in Evan's mind.
A renowned professor in the university's chemistry department. A technical adviser to the Byron Group.
And the Byron Group was one of the United States' leading chemical giants. Its logo was printed on every bottle of Aspirin he took.
So Professor Pulis isn't the only one testing drugs on people?
Evan's expression shifted slightly.
He had assumed the Magic Potion in Gilbert's body was Pulis's work too.
But the mention of Professor Byron made the whole picture more complicated.
At least two supernatural factions in this university were using poor students as test subjects.
Then their Magic Potions...
Evan's hand tightened inside his trouser pocket, pressing against three small bottles.
He had lifted the "spoils" from Gilbert's inner jacket pocket while restraining him.
The guards carried Gilbert away on a makeshift stretcher.
His gaunt body lay on it as limp as a sack of flour. The guards frowned as they carried him, and one even covered his nose with his sleeve.
Evan stayed where he was.
He had to deal with the three bottles in his pocket first.
If Byron's people discovered the drugs were missing and searched everyone near the scene, Evan had no intention of being caught red-handed.
"Thank you for saving Helen."
The clear voice sounded again.
Evan turned.
A faint jasmine scent reached him on the cold wind.
Two female students stood about two meters away.
The girl in front stood about five foot five. She wore a well-tailored beige plaid skirt under a short, deep Brown wool coat.
A pair of polished calfskin lace-up boots covered her feet.
She was strikingly beautiful.
A ruby hairpin held her black hair at the back of her head, with a few loose strands framing her cheeks.
Her features combined the strong contours of a Westerner with an Eastern woman's delicacy and poise.
Her skin was as fair as fine porcelain. Her cheeks had a hint of baby fat, her lips were naturally pale red, and her dark, bright eyes tilted slightly upward at the corners, giving her an unmistakable air of spirit.
She carried herself with ease, her confidence and commanding presence seeming to come from her very bones.
The girl beside her was much shyer.
She pressed close to the first girl, clutching her sleeve. Her eyes were red, and tear tracks still marked her shaken face.
Her blue cashmere dress had been mussed in the chaos, and a few pieces of Coal Slag clung to her shoulder.
She had fair skin and a few faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. She kept her head down and sniffled softly.
She looked just like a younger sister clinging to her older sister.
Evan gave a casual wave.
"It was nothing."
The girl in front stepped forward and offered her right hand.
"My name is Eldin Yousefka Hurst."
Her fingers were pale and slender. She swept a lock of hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear.
The gesture was smooth and graceful, and the last light of sunset lent her an indescribable youthful beauty.
Far off, the poor boys craned their necks so far they looked ready to snap in the wind. None of them could take their eyes off her.
"I've heard a lot of rumors about you lately," Eldin said, her voice carrying a hint of deeper meaning.
"After seeing what you did today, I realize some people are remarkably petty."
With one hand still pressed against the bottles in his pocket, Evan reached out with the other and took Eldin's soft hand.
It was only a polite handshake. He let go at once.
"I'm honored to have earned your approval."
He dipped his head to Eldin.
"But you should comfort this poor young lady first. I have sacks to haul after dinner."
With that, he took off his old newsboy cap, nodded politely to both girls, and turned to leave.
It was almost dark.
I want to get back, take the drugs, then head to the Harbor to haul sacks.
She can be as beautiful as she likes. If she won't sleep with me or give me money, what's the point of standing around talking?
Evan was practical.