Bologue didn’t have many hobbies, but music and movies were among them. He had seriously considered how to spend his long life as an Undead. To this end, Bologue once jotted down thoughts of making movies and music in his diary.
If he were to shoot a film himself, it should be a violent, bloody, and thrilling curiosity piece with a touch of comedy. In that case, Palmer as the protagonist would be most fitting.
Bologue always felt that this unlucky guy wouldn’t stop his goddamn jokes even when staring death in the face. After hearing Palmer’s nonsense so many times, sometimes Bologue wanted to crack open Palmer’s head to see what he was really thinking.
It’s work time now; as an expert, he couldn’t let this comedian lead him astray. Bologue tried to forget the bizarre ideas that emanated from Palmer and turned his thoughts to that unfamiliar term.
"So, the King’s Secret Sword who fled on the stormy night, the guy I just beat up, he’s actually the King’s Shield Guard?"
Bologue loudly questioned, "They weren’t even carrying out the King’s Secret Sword’s orders on that stormy night. They had already betrayed then?"
"That’s how it seems! Yas mentioned that an internal purge had already begun within the King’s Secret Sword, so everyone’s been at peace lately, and there’s nothing more suitable than Opus for them to hide from the purge." Palmer continued, glancing at the ground below, fissures constantly cracking open, revealing crimson flesh seeping through.
"They’ve always hidden in the Great Rift. You know how complicated the situation is in the Great Rift. The Order Bureau hasn’t been able to conduct an effective purge, but later intelligence indicated the King’s Shield Guards had designs on the Immortal Heart as well, so the Order Bureau set a trap."
Bologue leaped over a flesh tendril rising from the ground, cursing, "But those bastards set up the trap without telling us. I thought our only enemies were the Sanguine Corruption Sect!"
This time, Bologue truly felt the coldness and warmth of human relationships. He was like a boxer deceived into the ring. He was promised that defeating the enemy before him would end the match today, but opponents kept switching out. The referee wouldn’t call a stop... even saying excitedly, the referee stripped off his clothes, donned gloves, and stood eagerly before him.
"I’ve already complained to Yas about this!"
Palmer said, dropping his face and imitating Yas’s cold, half-dead tone, "But you’re the elite among elites. Who else but you could complete this mission!"
Palmer then continued, "Yas said this mission counts as triple the pay for us."
Both fell silent for a moment. Bologue said, complicatedly, "It’s only when collecting my paycheck that I truly feel like I’m at work."
"Who isn’t?" Palmer nodded in agreement, "There was a time I saw myself as a fallen noble. With no choice left, I took a job with this violent agency."
"Is pay that important?"
Aimou asked in Bologue’s mind, surprised that such a thing could drive these two to run back and forth.
"Aimou, you’ve never lived alone. In human society, an equivalent exchange is essential." Bologue sighed.
"Even for the Undead?"
"Naturally," Bologue recalled Serey’s words, lamenting, "This isn’t the chaotic era of centuries past. Comprehensive laws and regulations bind everyone in society."
"What would happen during the chaotic era?"
Bologue pondered for a moment, his tone turning light with a smile.
"Down here, I’d be a renegade; in the mountains, a bandit; and at sea, a pirate."
Palmer suddenly screamed, looking at Bologue with terror in his eyes, loudly questioning, "You’re not talking to yourself, are you?"
"Not at all," Bologue said, "Say hi, Aimou."
The light trails on Bologue’s body flickered as Bologue’s face overlapped. Another face appeared faintly, and Aimou protruded her head in a very shocking manner.
She briefly returned to corporeal form before once more merging into Bologue’s body.
Palmer, astonished, looked at Bologue, "You’ve been keeping her with you all along?"
"You’re mad!" Palmer felt he was re-meeting Bologue, realizing he’d been fighting alongside Aimou, "Teda will have your head!"
"Indeed," Bologue agreed with Palmer, "That’s why I keep the hostage close."
Even now, Aimou hadn’t figured out her role.
"So who is the Shadow King? Anyone who can cause the King’s Secret Sword to split and defect—hasn’t the Order Bureau noticed such a person?" Bologue shifted the topic.
"Not clear, I’ve asked Yas about this too, but it seems he doesn’t know much either," Palmer shook his head, "But in his words, the Shadow King just seemed to appear out of thin air."
"Yes, they appeared suddenly and caused a large group of King’s Secret Sword to defect loyally and without hesitation," Palmer felt a heavy pressure when thinking about the Shadow King, "You know, back when the King of Slaughter instigated the Blood Night, the King’s Secret Sword remained immensely loyal."
"It’s really complicated... So should we capture a live one?" Bologue said.
"That’s not necessary, is it? Leave the live ones to Yas and the others, they’re really good at it."
Recalling Yas’s confrontation with Nade, under absolute Prohibition and Silence, even the most frenzied flame was suppressed, not to mention the Prayer Believers and Condensers below the Negative Power User.
A low tier Condenser in front of the Violence Suppression Action Group is no different from an ordinary mortal; without the support of Ether, they are easily mowed down into a pile of corpses by machine guns.
"To be honest, I always feel that things won’t go so smoothly."
Bologue took a deep breath; even with the Violence Suppression Action Group present, he still felt crisis looming.
"Relax, trust your organization." Palmer spoke lightly, not forgetting to give Bologue a thumbs up.
"Do you have something you haven’t told me?" Bologue asked.
"No, right? We’re partners, something like that is impossible."
The two exchanged words, constantly rushing towards the deepest part of the Void Realm. The more they descended, the heavier the cloying stench became, with darkness shrouding everything around.
It was as if they were advancing inside a monster’s esophagus, at the end of darkness lay a stomach filled with corpses and decay.
Bologue was unafraid; he could clearly sense that the bizarre and frantic aura was at the bottommost point, an invisible line connecting him to that thing.
A blood-colored sphere appeared out of thin air, after a brief delay, the blood-red membrane began to deteriorate and then completely shattered.
Jia Meng’s figure fell out from it, crashing hard onto the ground, gasping painfully.
At this moment, Jia Meng was in extremely terrible condition, with a blood hole pierced by a Bright Light Blade in his chest, the wound deep enough to nearly touch his heart. Then came the Shock Hammer’s blow, fracturing bones, and the cost of using the Blood Transfer Sword to escape the Beast Fighting Arena.
Jia Meng groaned in pain, slowly releasing the thorn-covered sword hilt, the dense spikes tearing his arms into a bloody mess.
Fortunately, the cost was worth it; turning his head, he gazed at the container tightly held in his hand, which contained the Immortal Heart.
Jia Meng laughed wretchedly, reaching into his pocket and taking out several prepared alchemy potions, which he directly injected into his body, gradually blocking the pain and squeezing life force from beneath his shell.
This made him feel a lot better, staggering up, the Blood Transfer Sword had absorbed the cost, all the thorns retracting and transforming back into that crimson Secret Sword.
Picking up the Secret Sword, Jia Meng surveyed his surroundings; it was a vast underground space, not far from him was a cliff, its end unseen, replaced only by deep darkness.
After confirming safety, he did not let down his guard; Jia Meng, being a Prayer Believer, though heavily injured, his strength was being continually restored under the drive of the alchemy potion.
Such alchemy potion would deplete his life force, but under such circumstances, Jia Meng didn’t need to care much.
A slight pain interrupted Jia Meng’s thoughts, subsequently growing intense and heart-wrenching.
He reached for his abdomen, unable to stop the blood from overflowing, the deafening sound of gunfire reverberated in his ears.
Jia Meng coughed up large amounts of blood, turning his head as a figure gradually emerged from between the rocks, the disguise on the newcomer’s body gradually dissipating, looking at the disheveled Jia Meng while lowering the gun.
The Shadow of Illusion and Reality instantly rose, enveloping Jia Meng, between life and death, Jia Meng no longer restrained his Ether, at full surge, the outline of the towering figure could be seen, accompanied by the intricate patterns on his armor.
"What a mess you are, Jia Meng."
Laughter echoed, the person drew the sword from his waist, bright light tracing along the blade’s edge.
Jia Meng froze; he recognized that sword.
No... Milasha was already dead, Jia Meng had personally driven the blade into Milasha’s body, watching her become a cold corpse in the storm.
Before finishing his sentence, a glow of Ether flashed across the newcomer’s body, raising the Secret Sword to instantly reach Jia Meng’s presence, Jia Meng decisively raised the Blood Transfer Sword, wielding the crimson crescent.
In the sharp clash of blades, Jia Meng screamed fiercely.
The Blood Transfer Sword shattered the newcomer’s mask, Gray’s twisted face full of ecstatic joy was clearly visible.