Almost instinctively, Klein bent his knees, twisted his back to the side, and rolled in another direction, towards the bathroom door.
Whoosh!
A small black-feathered arrow was stuck on the washstand. The arrowhead seemed to be made of bone, with a bluish hue, which was quite beautiful.
If Klein had hesitated just now, he would not have been able to escape this sudden attack!
After a brief pause in his rolling, Klein reached into his pocket, attempting to pull out a few tarot cards.
Just then, he felt a gust of wind rush towards him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black figure rapidly approaching him, closing in on him with superhuman speed, and then, with a taut instep, kicking out from below.
Seeing that he couldn't dodge, Klein quickly abandoned his previous idea, raised his elbow, and blocked the attack.
With a bang, he felt his entire left arm go numb instantly, and his body was pulled out uncontrollably, just like tennis and squash, which are popular among the middle class, and football, which are currently popular among the working class.
What immense power! Klein's heart tightened, but he remained calm and adjusted his body in mid-air, changing his posture to barely maintain his balance, as if he were performing an acrobatic act.
Snap! Snap, Snap... Just then, the bark-colored blowpipe landed on the washroom floor, bounced behind the door, and slowed down.
Just as Klein was about to stretch his body, steady himself, and prepare for the next attack, another image suddenly flashed through his mind:
The enemy, dressed in black, moved faster than he had imagined, arriving much faster than he expected. He lowered his waist, swung his arm, and punched him squarely in the chest.
In an instant, Klein's body curled up again, spinning half a circle more, like a small ball that kept falling and being tossed around.
Snap!
He pressed his hand to the ground, head down, and spread his legs wide like scissors, preventing the black-clad man's punch from hitting anything; instead, the punch passed through the gap and shattered the air.
The fist, originally aimed at Klein's chest, could only strike his legs after Klein turned his body, and legs can be spread out.
With a push and a push, Klein pulled his legs down and nimbly leaped to the other side, finally standing firmly and upright.
Snap!
Before he could even assess the enemy, the black figure leaned to the side, creating a strong gust of wind.
"Such a quick reaction!" Klein quickly raised his arms to shield himself.
With a muffled thud, it felt as if he had been struck by a black bear. Unable to withstand the immense force, he could only stagger backward, his arms nearly losing all feeling.
At the same time, Klein finally recognized who the attacker was.
He had dark skin, was lean and wiry, and had deep-set eyes. He was none other than Meursault, the "executioner" of the Zmanger Gang, the same Meursault who had come to see Detective Moriarty that morning!
Clap clap clap! Meursault's eyes flashed with ferocity as he pressed on, his arms lashing out in a Storm barrage of attacks, sometimes hooking to the left, sometimes swinging to the right.
Klein's strength was significantly inferior to his opponent's, making it impossible for him to defend himself head-on. He only managed to dodge the combination of punches thanks to his agility and intuition.
No! I must play to my strengths! With this thought in mind, Klein stopped trying to fight, lowered his body, stopped with his legs, and rolled to the side.
Crack! A chair was kicked to pieces by Meursault.
Klein braced himself with his hands and used his back and waist to continue rolling, looking for an opportunity to take out the tarot cards and his homemade talismans.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Meursault quickly caught up, kicking with alternating legs, not much slower than his enemy.
He was like a giant bear with agility, without any weaknesses, forcing the rolling Klein to focus on dodging and parrying, leaving him no time to draw cards or spells.
Snap, bang, bang!
The chair was broken, the table overturned, the coat rack collapsed, and Klein circled around for most of the way, the situation becoming increasingly precarious.
This can't go on! He kept dodging, rolling and tumbling, searching for any opportunity to turn the tide.
Suddenly, his peripheral vision caught sight of the coffee table in the living room, and an idea popped into his head.
Bang! With one hand bracing himself, Klein leaped backward, enduring the pain, and rolled towards the living room area.
At that moment, Meursault's leg muscles suddenly swelled up, as if they had been inflated.
With a thud, the ground seemed to shake as he leaped forward, shooting like a bullet to Klein's side, before pulling out a leg.
Klein managed to parry, but was sent flying again, crashing into the coffee table with a bang. The impact sent ceramic teaware flying toward the cabinet, and scattered round-bellied pens, standard contracts, and various newspapers all over the floor.
Seeing the Detective, dressed in a black double-breasted tuxedo, slumped over from the impact, unable to stand or roll, Meursault's eyes flashed with malice. Amidst the sound of shattering porcelain, he slid forward and delivered a powerful knee strike.
Klein watched this scene with a deep gaze, a standard contract already in his hand.
He fled to the living room, ignoring his premonition and continuing to roll towards the coffee table, all in an effort to get a standard contract or a newspaper!
As Meursault's knee came hurtling towards him, Klein's wrist suddenly twitched.
Just then, an image flashed through his mind again: Meursault's neck tilted back.
Whoosh!
Klein lightly pressed his wrist, revealing the standard contract in his hand.
Whoosh!
The contract, like a steel dart, shot towards Meursault's throat. The two were now less than a meter apart, and with each thrust forward, they were getting closer and closer!
A white shadow came into view, Meursault instinctively leaned back, trying to avoid it.
puff!
The standard contract pierced Meursault's throat and trachea with deadly precision.
Blood, slightly frothy, flowed out, Meursault collapsed in front of Klein, his knees hitting the ground hard.
"Hmph, hmph, hmph..." He pulled out the blood-stained standard contract and clutched it tightly to his throat.
But he couldn't stop the bleeding from his wound, and his eyes gradually became unfocused.
Finally, his body twitched a few times, and then he became still.
Klein took a moment to catch his breath before he could turn over and stand up, a few tarot cards between his fingers, wary of any potential counterattack or other enemies.
After activating his Spirit Vision and confirming the other party's death, Klein looked around but didn't detect any other aura colors.
Only then did his tension ease a little, and he noticed that two chairs were broken, the coffee table was chipped in several places, and porcelain was scattered all over the floor, making the entire living room, dining room, and foyer a mess.
Looking down, he noticed that the sleeves of the long dress were badly damaged, and the woolen outer layer was covered in dust.
Suddenly, Klein muttered a self-deprecating remark under his breath:
"This can't be reimbursed..."
"Haha, hahaha, hahaha."
He burst into laughter, as if he had encountered something that would bring him joy for a lifetime. He laughed so hard he almost bent over backward, and his laughter echoed throughout the entire room.
A few dozen seconds later, Klein's smile faded, and he walked solemnly to Meursault's body.
He wants to make the dead speak!
After a practiced Spirit Channeling ritual and self-response, Klein, inhaling the delicate fragrance, whispered using the technique of " Dream Divination ":
"The mastermind behind Operation Meursault."
Soon, his eyes darkened, and he entered a dream, where he saw a gray expanse.
The gray world suddenly shifted with light and shadow, creating a series of images and scenes:
Ahead of Meursault was a middle-aged man without a hat. His white shirt had intricate, layered, petal-shaped decorations on the collar and cuffs, making it look exceptionally ornate. Paired with a tight black vest and skinny trousers, the outfit was flashy and ostentatious.
This middle-aged man had brown hair and Blue Eyes. His face was thin with stubble, but he had a certain charm and was a very handsome gentleman.
He looked at Meursault and said in a deep voice:
"No matter what you do, find Ian Wright. Try to keep him alive. If he's dead, bring him to me within an hour, preferably within 15 minutes."
"Yes, Mr. Ambassador." Meursault did not hide his arrogance, but still lowered his head.
The image shattered, and Klein frowned.
Mr. Ambassador?
This matter actually involves other countries?
Judging from the style of his shirt, this ambassador is very likely the ambassador from the Republic of Intis to Backlund...
Ian is just a big boy...
That gentleman knows Spirit Channeling, or at least has someone around him Spirit Channeling...
Klein thought for a moment and then gave the " Dream Divination " statement again:
"The purpose of finding Ian Wright."
In the hazy, illusory dreamscape, Klein saw the middle-aged gentleman from before once again.
He gazed at Meursault and spoke in a low voice:
"You don't need to know why, just do as I say."
"I'm giving you Potion and money so you can become the behind-the-scenes manipulator of the Zmanger Gang, not so you can ask questions, but so you can do things!"
"Well... all you need to know is that Ian Wright might be involved with a very important item."
As the scene faded, Klein once again exited the dream.
A very important item... I never would have guessed, Ian... What could it be... Potion... So Meursault was Beyonder? No wonder his fighting was so strong and terrifying. He must be Beyonder with expertise in this area... Amidst these conflicting thoughts, Klein felt exhausted. Responding to his own prayers was indeed too draining on his Spirituality.
He estimates that he will have to wait until he becomes Sequence 7 to return to his previous Spirit Channeling abilities.
After concluding the ritual and dispelling the Wall of Spirituality, Klein gazed at Meursault's corpse, examining it closely for a long time.
Finally, he saw specks of Spirituality light gathering at the wound on the other person's throat, slowly coalescing into a whole.
Klein carefully picked it up, and in his palm was a deep red object that looked like a piece of Earth jelly.
"Is this the Beyonder Characteristic left behind by Meursault? I wonder what Sequence Potion it is... That's easy to determine, I can just do Divination above the Gray Fog and get the answer... Theoretically speaking, Low-Sequence Beyonder Characteristic can directly grant a person the corresponding ability even without auxiliary materials, but after ingestion, it's easy to go mad and lose control on the spot... The auxiliary materials for Low-Sequence Potion contain almost no Spirituality..." Klein's thoughts wandered, then he forcibly brought his attention back.
A corpse lay before him, leaving him with a major headache about what to do next.
P. S.: Toad has started a new book, " Full-Time Martial God," which is very catchy from the beginning, especially the protagonist's name.