I'm a Serious Student, and I Only Drink Nine Potions Every Day Chapter 47

He raised his face, a mischievous smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Professor, I don't want to be human anymore."

"Do you think I still have a chance?"

Pulis's voice carried arrogance and contempt. "A stray dog from the bottom like you really has... no limits."

He merely raised his right hand, clad in a black leather glove.

The next second, the space throughout the alley instantly collapsed around his fingertips, turning into a living, tangible crimson mass with a hungry pull as it surged toward Evan.

In that instant, Evan felt as though someone had shoved him into the depths of a ten-thousand-meter sea.

An endless sea of blood surrounded him on all sides.

Light, sound, smell, temperature—everything was stripped away.

Even his lungs filled with blood, and all his eyes could see was crimson.

He was about to drown.

Before that bloody red, strength, rage, and physical constitution were all useless.

There was no room for resistance.

The blood was about to strip away his senses and thoughts entirely.

Bang!

A dull impact rang out.

That impact was not something any object Evan knew could have made.

It was more like... a living wall slamming into a cloud of living mist, causing a shockwave.

The blood around him suddenly receded.

Evan sucked in a breath, and cold, real air flooded his lungs again.

He braced himself against the ground and opened his eyes.

Someone stood in front of him.

A burly man.

Nearly six-foot-three.

His shoulders were as broad as two oak doors, his chest muscles stretched tight against the front of a cheap leather jacket, and his arms were thicker around than Evan's thighs.

Except.

Below that bodybuilder-like upper body was a waist, hips, and pair of legs no different from those of an ordinary person.

A perfect inverted-triangle comic-book physique, but in real life it looked bizarre and ridiculous.

Evan stared blankly at that strange combination for half a second, instinctively wondering whether the man would snap his waist if he tried to run.

The man wore an old leather jacket that looked like he had casually dug it out of a thrift store, faded jeans, and muddy construction boots.

He reeked of cheap whiskey, mixed with tobacco and a certain briny scent.

His short silver-white hair stood out in the night, every strand sticking straight up like metal wire blown by the wind.

"Pulis Kelin Batulus."

A deep, rich voice rolled from the depths of his throat.

"You violated the agreement. You crossed the line."

Pulis's brows furrowed slightly, and rare impatience appeared on his porcelain-pale face.

"Richard Tyson."

His tone carried the superiority of a scion of a prestigious family looking down on street thugs.

"You lowlifes really are clingy."

It was clear that the two had exchanged blows several times over the past few days.

Upon hearing Pulis call him a lowlife, Evan's mind, churning through pain, finally caught hold of that clue.

This burly man with a physique bizarre enough to have stepped out of a comic was the senior brother Hill had mentioned.

"Richard Tyson... stuck... stuck it in too deep?"

The intense pain had stirred his thoughts into a pot of mush.

The lingering 13% brain nerve damage on his panel, now toyed with by that invisible hand, made him feel as though his brain was missing a screw.

Every nerve in his brain felt like it had been soaked in scalding saltwater, and nonsense spilled from his uncontrollable mouth one sentence after another.

"Hehe, stick it in good. Fuck him to death."

"Ehehe, I have to survive."

"So what's the price? Dog balls..."

Richard shot Evan a sideways glance, and a twisted helplessness flashed across his rugged face.

He raised a hand as large as a fan and helplessly covered his face.

"It's over. Another nutcase."

In the instant he was distracted.

Pulis moved.

The elegant figure standing more than ten meters away seemed to have been put on fast-forward.

His whole body twisted, stretched, and teleported in a way that defied common sense, appearing between Richard and Evan the next second.

His left arm changed.

The arm wrapped in a black silk sleeve ruptured from the shoulder down, its skin, flesh, and bones kneaded anew like shredded putty.

It turned into a blood-and-flesh tentacle soaked in a dark red sheen. Its tip split into five petals like a blooming man-eating flower, coiling toward Evan's neck.

"Yaua!"

A deep syllable rolled from Richard's throat.

It was a language Evan had never heard before.

Pulis's body suddenly froze.

His pale blue eyes were instantly covered by a layer of milky white mist, and he stiffened in place as if someone had hit pause.

"Ierde!"

Richard uttered a second syllable.

Bang.

An invisible force tore through Pulis's chest like an out-of-control train.

Pulis was blasted away, crashing into the mold-covered brick wall on the other side of the alley and vanishing into the depths of the darkness.

The next instant, Richard's arm, as thick as an oak post, precisely grabbed Evan by the collar and pulled him behind his broad back, shielding him like a hen protecting her chicks.

"How are you, junior brother?"

That strikingly handsome face lowered toward Evan.

"Is your mind still normal?"

He paused, reached out to pat Evan's shoulder, and his tone suddenly turned somewhat improper.

"Keep up appearances out here. No jerking off, no taking off your pants, no grinding your ass on me. Anything else is negotiable."

Evan stood behind him with a deep frown.

He slammed his fist hard into his temple, then clawed at his scalp.

After exhaling a turbid breath that smelled of blood, he raised his head.

In that instant, Richard saw the change.

The pupil of Evan's left eye had already contracted vertically, becoming the Demon Hunter's signature golden slit pupil.

Several glaring silver-white strands had emerged from his black hair, quietly spreading along the part.

Even stranger was his face.

The left half was cold and calm, its muscles taut and its gaze sharp enough to cut through the night wind.

But the right half was like a shuffled deck of cards, cycling through joy, anger, sorrow, and delight every half second.

"Senior brother."

Evan's voice was hoarse and broken.

"I can't really control my brain."

As he spoke, Richard watched the top of Evan's head become visibly sharper and sharper.

"Well, damn."

Richard scratched the back of his head.

"Wasn't the side effect of Master's branch of Demon Hunter Characteristic infertility and memory damage?"

"Why is your head getting pointy too?"

Evan gripped his scalp with both hands, his nails having already scratched several bleeding red marks into it.

"Senior brother! It's so itchy! I feel like I'm growing a brain!"

As his skin was torn open, several beads of blood seeped out.

Richard's bulbous nose twitched.

The next second, his expression completely changed.

"Master above!"

He took half a step back and stared at Evan as though he were looking at a ghost.

"My little junior brother, is that even fucking blood?"

"I was wondering why your digestive side effects were so outrageous! How many extraordinary ingredients did you fucking eat?"

Chapter 44: Let Me Give You Something Strong!

During those few seconds of conversation.

A scalp-numbing rustling came from the darkness at the end of the alley.

A chilling wind swept in.

Evan raised his still-normal right eye to look over, and his pupil abruptly dilated.

Pulis had returned.

But he was no longer the elegant professor in a black silk cape.

On either side of his humanoid torso, darkness condensed into two enormous Bat wings covered in patterns of bony spikes.

Their wingspan stretched over three meters, dark red veins flowing through the wing membranes.

His entire face protruded forward, his mouth splitting all the way to his ears to reveal two rows of uneven fangs.

That thing rose from the ground and dove toward Richard and Evan.

"Kyen!"

Richard clenched his right hand.

Pulis slammed into an invisible wall half a meter away from them. His speed was forcibly halted, and the gale whipped up by his wings sent Evan's hair flying wildly.

But the next second.

Pulis opened his mouth.

From that monster mouth, already split to his ears, shot a two-meter-long crimson tongue covered in barbs.

The tongue moved so fast that it was nearly impossible to see with the naked eye.