Bang!
As the Canaan roared through the station, the thick side panel of the carriage suddenly broke away from the high-speed train at 350 kiloters per hour. The staff on the platform, observing the spectacle, instinctively lunged forward, feeling a suffocating gale sweep over his head. Imdiately following, a piercing explosion rang out behind him, shaking him to the core.
The side panel of the carriage, at least six ters wide, shot out like Death’s scythe. Following its inertia, it tumbled across the platform, sparking fire and scattering fragnts of tal, knocking over signs and crashing into support columns, ultimately skidding to a halt on the opposite tracks. Had he hesitated for even a mont, he would have been a sar of red clay on the platform.
The imnse mass coupled with imnse speed equates to the most formidable violence, yet the still-shaken staff glanced at the fractured side panel, noticing sothing even more terrifying.
He initially thought the side panel was forcefully sawed off by bandits using chainsaws or sothing similar. However, the fracture was not smooth; instead, it displayed signs of deformation caused by an overwhelming kinetic force.
How could this be possible?!
The staff knew well that the Canaan had been traveling at high speed and had not suffered any external attack. Thus, the damage must have originated within the carriage, aning soone inside dismantled it!
But this is a high-speed train! Forget about being bulletproof and explosion-proof—those are basics. The train’s structural requirents are such that it should remain intact even when derailing at top speed, giving passengers a chance for survival. If the carriage breaks and people are thrown out, they would all end up as pulp!
Did those bandits sohow stuff a dump truck into the train!?
And moreover...
The staff looked towards the vanishing Canaan, rubbing his eyes.
Did he just see a few people fighting on top of the train moving at 350 kiloters per hour?
*
The ceiling was ripped off, side panels of the carriage were broken and flown away, passenger seats were nothing but remnants and rubble on the ground. The transford battleground of carriage number two was left with nearly just its base. Steel, alloy, high-tech materials; all are futile in front of a group of near-Divine Domain beings of flesh and blood, unable to resist the sharpest of techniques.
To a group of Legendary Mages, even ones with clipped wings, the most advanced transportation that the Kingdom of Allstars prided itself on was still too fragile.
Igula leaned against the partition door of carriage number one, taking a deep breath of the cold air. On the Canaan speeding at 350 kiloters per hour, it wasn’t the wind blowing them; they were tearing through the wind, with unfamiliar cities flashing by, and unfamiliar skies accelerating in reverse.
Just like this unstoppable train, they were charging towards the end of their journey in an unstoppable manner.
Click, click, click, click, click, click. Igula wielded a revolver, with a golden elongated barrel, a silver magazine, a white wooden handle, and a blue iron-colored shadow wolf engraving that ard it as a delicately exquisite artwork. It should appear in an ambiguously lit ballroom, where lonely, glamorous ladies would caress it to suggest whether Igula needed to polish the gun.
This was Igula’s sidearm, Evil Wolf.
Even in the Kingdom of Allstars, revolvers mostly existed as toys. In the face of an automatic rifle that could empty thirty magazines within a second, a revolver that needs loading and shooting one bullet at a ti exudes an outdated ritualistic sense in a life-and-death struggle.
Yet, when Igula closed the magazine, everyone was forced to divert part of their attention to him. The shadow wolf engraving on the gun seed to co alive, transforming from an elegant artifact into a ferociously cunning beast, eager to roar out a hunting call!
Boom!
Igula’s hand trembled, astonishingly aiming the muzzle of the Evil Wolf at Harvey’s back head and firing!
Yet nothing happened to Harvey. Instead, a Curse Elf battling Nia on the opposing side of the battlefield jerked her head back violently. Still, the bullet passed through her cheek, piercing through her mouth!
"Hiss." The Curse Elf gasped in pain, quickly retreating to avoid Nia’s blade.
This was Igula’s latest achievent, the Unintentional Bullet!
A bullet that seeks out its enemy automatically!
Even Igula himself was uncertain where the bullet would go, so how could their enemies dodge?
If dissected closely, this wasn’t exactly a gun technique; gun technique involves understanding the environnt, predicting the target, and using precise bullet sprays to erect a grave of death, following the jungle Law of Hunter and prey.
But Igula was never a Hunter; he never liked doing such bloody dirty work. He prided himself as an Upper, the commander, the strategist, never the simple-minded warrior fighting on the frontlines. As a Mage, he had his artistic pursuits; even if he chose the most straightforward, crude gun to enhance his combat power, he had no intention of ’mastering’ the cold steel.
Relying on a weapon for a Swindler ant admitting one’s incompetence.
What Igula needs is loyalty.
Loyal gun bullets, which will seek out the Swindler’s enemies themselves. Igula isn’t shooting; he’s just giving orders.
This is the terrifying aspect of the disembodied bullets: they bypass the mage’s strongest defense barrier—intuition! When you attempt to assassinate a mage, whether directly aiming or indirectly, the killing intent and threat will trigger the mage’s intuitive perception. Therefore, powerful gun masters often shoot blind, with zero aim, instant shots, striving to reduce aiming ti to zero to avoid intuition detection.
Igula’s talent in gun technique is quite ordinary, so ordinary that even after practicing for several months, it’s still just barely at the Silver Realm. But he never intended to master gun technique; if gun masters aim to ta firearms, then he aims to make the firearms understand him, so that he can deceive them to work for him.
Up till now, he hasn’t truly achieved this; the gun bullets can’t understand his words, so Igula collaborates slightly with Harvey. The miracle inside a mage won’t trigger the Mysterious Chains, like Ash’s Joyful Sword which can be used without barriers. Hence, Igula uses miracles on himself, then lets Harvey extract his marrow to infuse into the gun bullets, thus the Swindler gets unenlightened gun bullets fused with a wise soul.
From there, it gets much simpler. Under the Swindler’s guidance, the gun bullets mature rapidly, learn to find their targets, and explode inside them to form cavities. Given enough ti, he can even have the gun bullets cook a hearty al.
Igula has no psychological burden about this; the first person the Swindler deceives is himself. Especially when it’s only gun bullets tinged with a bit of his spirit? Instead, he thinks he has opened a new track, as after all, deceiving others always involves a communication barrier. It’s difficult for people to truly understand each other and act as one wishes, but deceiving oneself involves no communication loss, as oneself can fully understand oneself, thus achieving perfect deception.
And it’s by relying on the disembodied bullets that Igula truly steps into the threshold of legendary.
Before this, he always thought the Spirit Faction was the secret to social domination, the universal law in the era of order. But after successfully deceiving inanimate objects, he had a new insight—deception is not only about letting money flow to those more qualified to own it, but also about returning all things in the world to their rightful place.
A greenhouse, essentially deceiving the land; hydraulic engineering, deceiving the rivers. The mage’s interference with nature, isn’t it deception of nature too?
Harvey believes everything in the world is in a cycle of life and death, everyone lives atop corpses and will eventually beco corpses to nurture new life. However, Igula believes deception runs through civilization eternally; people need deception between each other, and between people and nature too.
Having circled in social exchanges in the past, it was only after being thrown into the Kingdom of Allstars that Igula finally found this broader market.
Deceiving gun bullets is his first step in deceiving the world.
The precondition for a mage to avoid gun bullets is to react at least before the gunshot, as no matter how fast the body is, it can’t be faster than a bullet. However, Igula’s disembodied bullets only decide what direction to shoot after leaving the muzzle, thereby suppressing the mage’s reaction ti to the limit.
He’s not a gun master, but he’s more accurate than a gun master. The only downside is that disembodied bullets very much require a sense of ceremony, thus the procedure of inserting each cartridge into the cylinder of a revolver is indispensable.
With Igula’s cooperation, Nia could finally withstand the Curse Elf’s onslaught. Though the Curse Elf is a Fire Mage, she is also adept in swordsmanship and gun technique, wielding a rapier in one hand and a short gun, cleverly blending surprise and regular tactics. More importantly, her combat experience far exceeds Nia’s by a long shot; if not for the support of other teammates, Nia would have been defeated by her long ago.
Nia intended to press her advantage and subdue the Curse Elf, but at this mont, a dark shadow descended from above, like a puddle of unmitigated malice.
The sky was a place where evasion was impossible, so Nia decisively swung her sword to counterattack. However, the shadow managed to contort its form to the eerie degree akin to a stick insect in mid-air, deftly dodging her attack, rolling on the ground through the battlefield between Vishi and the Parasitic Mage, before finally returning to its master’s side, narrowly blocking Harvey’s charge.
At this mont, Harvey’s exposed skin was entirely ashen, his upper garnt long since shredded to ribbons, with scars crisscrossing his upper body, yet not a drop of blood flowing out, akin to a weathered gravestone.
Behind Harvey, wrapped around his spine was a strap containing thirteen vials of potions, five of which were already empty.
To enhance the team’s combat power, Igula started delving into gun technique, while Harvey expanded on his slight acquaintance of special magic, the Alchemy Faction.
Though terd alchemy, the focus is actually on the corpse. For the past few months, Harvey had been researching to what extent he could modify the corpse before triggering interference from the Mysterious Chains, consuming dozens of family mbers to do so.
Modifying the corpse was just the first step; the second step was crucial—he needed to beco a corpse.
The final results were quite satisfactory; the thirteen vials of potions behind him were the essence of thirteen family mbers. After injection, Harvey’s pain sense would diminish to the lowest, the skin’s resistance to strikes significantly enhancing, body mass and movent speed greatly increasing. He would only need to rampage recklessly to pose a threat, highly suitable for an academic genius like Black-skinned Curly Hair.
The only side effect was that the transformation was irreversible.
Injecting a vial of potion, about 30 days later, he would completely beco a corpse. Two vials, 20 days, three vials, ten days, four vials, five days, five vials, three days, six vials, two days, seven vials, one day, eight vials, twelve hours, nine vials, six hours, ten vials, three hours, eleven vials, two hours, twelve vials, one hour.
When Harvey noticed the hardness of his body starting to decline, he unhesitatingly injected the sixth vial of potion. Although the life of this body was shortened to rely two days, he was utterly indifferent, forcefully propelling himself like a hearse crashing forward!
Thud!
Two people extended their hands together to suppress Harvey’s charge—it was Coffin Back Empress Tiramisu and her ’family’.
"Ye Jian really likes you." Tiramisu suddenly said, "I like you too, but you can’t beat ."
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