Farolynch had only recently learned to gather magic power. To Mulan, he was still a novice at using it, and the amount he possessed was hardly impressive by the standards of modern orthodox supernatural practitioners.
But in essence, as a natural Resurrector born within reality, Farolynch was already a true supernatural being-albeit a very weak one.
The man Farolynch held by the throat trembled all over. Wisps of white vapor seeped from his eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth, only to be drawn into Farolynch. The arms that had been clutching Farolynch's wrist fell limply to his sides.
Within barely a dozen seconds, Farolynch felt the man in his grip turn limp as mud. He dropped him to the ground, leaving him barely able to breathe, then glanced down at his damaged coat and stripped it off. He removed the hooded coat from the man on the ground and put it on himself.
"I suppose you won't give me anything useful no matter how I question you, will you? I'm not much of an interrogator, anyway."
Farolynch looked at the man with icy eyes. He had already sensed the man's evil in his aura. He truly did not deserve to be called human.
As he spoke, Farolynch picked up the steel spike from the ground, twirled it once in his hand, and drove it straight into the man's forehead. It pierced the back of his skull and struck the floor beneath it with a sharp clang.
Only after confirming that the man was thoroughly dead did Farolynch pull out the spike. Faint, jubilant cheers seemed to echo around him.
He flicked the spike, wiped the remaining blood off on the dead man's clothes, and dragged the corpse into a shadowy corner. Then he lowered the hood and left, only to double