Adams did not spare another glance at the two newly raised mounds. He casually lifted his right hand, palm down, toward the blood-soaked muddy ground beneath his feet.
A viscous substance, as dark as the earth itself, gathered and flowed out of thin air beneath his palm.
In an instant, the sticky mud-like substance detached from his palm, fell to the ground, and rapidly took shape, solidified, and rose.
Within a few breaths, five soldiers made entirely of dirt and stone, identical in color and texture to the ground, stood silently before Adams.
"Clean up the battlefield, collect the spoils, finish off anyone still breathing, and throw all the corpses into the sea."
Adams's voice was calm and flat as he issued an unquestionable command. He was a man who kept his word.
The five Dirt Soldiers bowed soundlessly. Like the most loyal machines, they immediately turned and marched toward the fallen lackeys with heavy yet swift steps.
They silently searched, delivered finishing blows, collected, and carried, their movements efficient and cold.
Adams strode through twisted corpses and thick pools of blood toward an inconspicuous corner at the deepest end of the alley.
Several rotten wooden barrels and miscellaneous junk were piled there. He extended a large hand covered in blood and easily swept aside the obstructions, revealing a dust-covered travel backpack beneath them.
He had deliberately placed it there before the battle.
He picked up the backpack, casually brushed away the dust and wood chips, then sat cross-legged at the edge of a pool of blood that had yet to dry. With the enormous backpack on his lap, he untied its sturdy straps and reached inside.
Soon, he pulled out a large object simply wrapped in broad leaves.
He peeled back the leaves, revealing a prepared steak inside. Without the slightest hesitation, Adams opened his mouth and viciously tore into it.
The tough sinews tore apart with ease. He chewed in huge mouthfuls, his powerful jaw working forcefully and producing sounds of swallowing that made one's heart tremble.
The enormous steak vanished at a visible rate. In only a short while, Adams had eaten it clean, sucking and chewing even the remaining membranes away.
He exhaled in satisfaction. His formerly flat, firm abdomen now swelled high as though inflated, stretching his tattered clothes taut enough to nearly split them apart.
Then, a sudden mutation occurred!
A burst of scorching white steam rose sharply from Adams's blood-stained silver-white short hair.
Thin wisps of white vapor began to rise from his entire body, and the surrounding air warped slightly from his abruptly elevated body temperature.
Hiss... hiss, hiss...
Faint, teeth-grinding sounds came from all over his body. The fragments of lead shot embedded in his muscles and buried deep in his tissue were slowly forced out through the savage wounds by a power from within his body.
Along with tainted blood, distorted, misshapen lead fragments were expelled from the dark red bullet holes, clattering into the pool of blood and mud beneath him.
At the same time, the pores all over his body seemed to open like floodgates, oozing vast amounts of viscous liquid.
The black fluid carried an indescribable stench and filthiness. It rapidly covered the blood and mud on his skin, then gathered into tiny streams that flowed down the grooves of his powerful muscles, dripping onto the ground and mixing with the bright red blood into a strange dark brown.
As the black fluid drained away and the bullets were forced out, an even more astonishing sight occurred!
The dense gunshot wounds on his body, deep enough to expose bone, and the huge gashes torn open by anchors... were as though erased by an invisible eraser.
The torn skin closed and healed at a visible speed. Freshly turned flesh contracted inward, severed blood vessels reconnected, and ripped muscle fibers wriggled and regrew...
After only a few breaths, every horrifying wound had completely vanished!
His skin was smooth as before, gleaming with healthy, vigorous strength beneath the wan sunlight filtering through gaps in the gun smoke.
Only his shredded clothing and the dried dark-brown stains across his body bore witness to the brutal battle just now.
Adams lowered his head and looked at his perfectly intact chest and arms, without the slightest hint of surprise on his face.
As though it were as natural as breathing or drinking water. Over the past two years, he had witnessed this body's evolution countless times.
Every time he suffered severe exertion or serious injury, as long as he consumed enough massive, pure food energy, this body would instinctively absorb it, transform, thoroughly purge all external injuries and internal toxins in this manner, and become even tougher.
He slowly rose to his feet. As he stood, the swelling in his abdomen rapidly subsided as though leaking air, restoring the distinct, rock-like contours of his abdominal muscles.
He rolled his neck and shoulders, his joints giving off soft cracks brimming with the sensation of newfound strength.
Just as he was feeling himself grow stronger, the five Dirt Soldiers had already completed their task efficiently.
All the gang members, including the two leaders, had been sent to the bottom of the sea. Their belongings were placed at Adams's feet:
A jingling pouch of Beli, standard long knives, more than a dozen usable Flintlock pistols and their matching ammunition, some scattered gold and silver jewelry, and several small oil-paper packets of powdered substance emitting a strange smell.
Adams's gaze fell upon the Flintlocks and long knives. Their number was clearly reflected in his eyes. With a thought, he created more than twenty new Dirt Soldiers, neither too many nor too few, exactly matching the weapons on the ground.
He gave the original five soldiers a slight nod.
"Take the money pouch and jewelry."
The five soldiers immediately bent down and grabbed the money pouch and the pitiful amount of gold and silver.
As for the oil-paper packets on the ground that emitted a cloying scent, he did not even mention them.
"You, pick up the guns and knives."
He turned to the more than twenty newly created soldiers and raised his chin toward the pile of weapons.
The command was issued cleanly and decisively. Adams no longer looked at his legion. He slung the backpack over his shoulders and turned toward the docks, with the Dirt Soldiers following close behind.
Half an hour later.
Adams stood before a fairly tidy two-story building. On the crooked wooden sign by the entrance, a blurred dagger symbol was barely visible.
He looked up at the tightly shut door and let out a nearly inaudible sigh.
"I hope this place doesn't disappoint me."
Half an hour earlier, he had learned the locations of the Blood Anchor Gang's and Dagger Gang's hideouts from local fishermen at the docks.
He had gone to the Blood Anchor Gang's base first, but its filthy, disorderly, dreadful environment had made him physically uncomfortable.
He had merely created another five soldiers and ordered them to collect the spoils there before hastily leaving for this place.
After ordering the armed soldiers to stand guard, Adams raised a hand and gently pushed open the heavy wooden door. With a creak, the scene inside unfolded before him:
Rough log tables and chairs lay scattered about, while shattered clay cups and unknown stains littered the floor.
A dim corridor stretched inward on the left, ending in several broken doors—the communal sleeping quarters where the Dagger Gang's thirty lackeys were crammed together.
On the right, a crude wooden staircase led to the second floor, where the gang leader had a private bedroom.
After thinking for a moment, Adams created several soldiers the same color as the floor, bringing the total to fifty, which was also the current limit of what he could create.
"Search for anything valuable."
He gave the newly created soldiers the simplest possible command.
The soldiers immediately moved, flooding into the sleeping quarters and throughout the hall, rummaging through boxes and cabinets as dull impacts and the sounds of splintering boards rang out continuously.
Adams ignored the chaos behind him and merely tilted his head slightly toward the five soldiers carrying the treasure.
"Follow me."
He stepped onto the creaking wooden staircase, and the five soldiers, carrying the money pouch and jewelry, silently followed behind him.
Two and a half minutes later, he stood before the only heavy wooden door on the second floor.
The door was unlocked. He reached out and pushed it open.
The room beyond was not small, yet it was filled with a suffocating mixture of extravagance and filth.
An enormous bed occupied the center. Directly opposite the bed stood a rough stone pillar. Three figures were tied to it.
The ropes had cut deeply into their flesh. The three young women were scantily clothed, their hair dry and tangled like weeds, with bruises and dried tear tracks still visible on their faces.
Their eyes were hollow and unfocused, like rag dolls stripped of their souls. They showed no reaction to the massive figure entering through the door, as though they had long since sunk into endless darkness, numbed even to fear.
The air retained the smell of cheap perfume, sweat, and an indescribable despair.
Adams's brows tightened sharply. He strode over without a word, not even looking into the three women's empty eyes.
He extended a palm-sized hand and grabbed one of the thick hemp ropes cutting into a woman's shoulder blade. His fingers clenched like steel pincers.
Rip!
The tough hemp rope snapped between his fingers like a rotten blade of grass.
The broken ends dangled weakly. His movements were astonishingly fast. With both hands, he grabbed and tore—rip, rip, rip! The other ropes snapped one after another beneath his fingers, sending scraps flying.
The entire process was brutal, direct, and efficient.
With their restraints suddenly gone, the three women seemed to have had all their bones removed. They slid down the cold stone pillar like mud, curled up on the floor, and trembled violently.
"The Dagger Gang is finished. You're free. Go back wherever you came from."
Adams's voice echoed through the empty bedroom like a slab of ice striking stone, utterly devoid of warmth. Leaving aside his age, the important thing was that he had no interest in something that clearly was not original.
The three women shuddered violently as if struck by an invisible whip.
After several seconds of deathly blank silence, overwhelming terror and wild joy finally crashed through their numb nerves like a tsunami.
Whimpers and suppressed sobs rose intermittently. Struggling, they used every bit of strength they had left to support one another and crawl toward the door on hands and feet, not daring to glance at Adams again. Their instinct to flee this den of demons overwhelmed everything else.
Their staggering footsteps faded down the stairs. Only Adams and the five soldiers behind him remained in the bedroom, holding the treasure like clay statues.
"Put it down. Go stand guard outside."
Adams ordered the five soldiers.
The soldiers obeyed. They gently placed the money pouch and jewelry on the dark red bedspread stained with grime, producing dull metallic clinks.
Then they turned and left the bedroom with synchronized, heavy steps, closing the heavy wooden door behind them.
Adams removed the travel backpack from his shoulder and set it on the floor by his feet. He crouched down and reached inside.
A moment later, he withdrew his hand. He held a strange object in his palm.
It had a smooth, streamlined shell that gleamed with a cold metallic luster that did not belong to this era. About as wide as a palm, it resembled a wristwatch in design.
Most strangely, its face was not glass, but a single pure-black mirror like a frozen night sky.
To be continued