Chapter 963: Chapter 718: Fate Has Its Own Plans (Part 2)
In other words, Igula is probably beyond saving.
If in order to save one dead person, we let a villain deserving endless death go…
How many people has Tanomu hurt? How many people has she killed? She started a war that engulfed the entire continent; she’s the source of all evil. If we let her go here, how many more lives will suffer because of her? How many villains do I have to kill to repay this sin?
For what reason have I lived until now? Why didn’t I commit suicide when the Ya Sha Jin cult perished? How can I miss this opportunity?
As long as, as long as I sacrifice Igula…
I won’t let him die alone. As long as I’m sure Tanomu is dead, I will imdiately take my own life to repay him, serving him in hell for hundreds or even thousands of years, it doesn’t matter. Moreover, Tanomu might be lying, maybe…
Gradually, Black Crow’s hand holding the Gray Fox Blade becos steady. His hand, which was gripping the shoulder blade of the rcury Wooden Horse, switches to squeezing the throat of the rcury Wooden Horse.
The rcury Wooden Horse senses this subtle change, a faint smile forming on its lips, leaving Black Crow montarily distracted—Tanomu also used to smile like this while holding him to sleep.
Qie Xiu, Kalan, Anoy, Yelu, Master, and… Tanomu…
Please… hold my hand… tightly…
I’m sorry, Igula, really… really sorry…
“Ya! Sha! Jin!”
Black Crow cries out forcefully, stabbing down fiercely with the Gray Fox Blade!
*
*
“If a criminal takes a hostage and demands a vehicle to escape, what would you do?”
In the “Gambling Apocalypse,” Emi, who is gambling one-on-one with Igula, suddenly asks a strange question.
By this ti, Igula knows that Emi is a Blood Frenzy Hunter, so he gives an answer in line with Blood Moon’s political correctness: “Of course, first ensure the hostage’s safety and try to et the criminal’s demands.”
“But what if the criminal escapes and later kills more people?”
“That’s the responsibility of the Cri Hunting Hall, not related to the hostage.”
“But reality is never that ideal, the Cri Hunting Hall isn’t god.” Emi pushes a few chips, “There are always tis when you have to weigh the value of different lives. The life of one hostage, versus the lives of others who might be victimized in the future, which one has more value?”
“If there’s truly soone who can judge the value of different lives,” Igula laughs, “it must be a god. But I’m not a Blood Frenzy Hunter, I won’t encounter such dilemmas—so Emi, how would you handle such a situation?”
Emi makes a hand cannon gesture, aiming at Igula, “I would shoot them.”
“Don’t say things like that outside,” Igula glances around, “If a reporter hears that, you’ll end up on the front page.”
“Okay, okay.” Emi waves her hand, “But do you know why I would do that?”
Igula: “Surely because you have confidence in your gun technique, to accurately hit the criminal.”
“Though there’s that reason too, who dares make such guarantees? It’s not impossible to accidentally kill the hostage.” Emi shrugs, “But even if I kill the hostage, I’d feel no guilt.”
“Oh?” Igula is a bit surprised. Though Emi is a Blood Frenzy Hunter, she’s more a Moon Shadow Clan mber. mbers of the Moon Shadow Clan have their twisted kindness and passion; they could feel so bad about doing sothing wrong that they wouldn’t eat for months, contrasting vividly with the ruthless Blood Saint Clan.
“My gun bullet could hit the criminal or the hostage. If it hits the hostage, I’d naturally continue to kill the criminal, symbolizing that fate saw the hostage’s life as less valuable; if it hits the criminal, naturally everything’s good, symbolizing that fate valued the hostage’s life higher.”
“So this is the ‘Fate’s Bullet.'” Emi adds more chips, “I’ve done all I can, and as for the business of judging life’s value, leave it up to fate.”
“Very much your style, Miss Emi,” Igula laughs, “Call, reveal—straight flush.”
“Pfft, I had four Aces!” Emi exclaims, her tail twitching in disbelief, “Did you really not cheat?”
“As a mud coffee shop that sells entertainnt, I don’t need to cheat. If you have doubts, you can watch the surveillance footage.” Igula spreads his hands.
“Alright, alright, I’m not a sore loser.” Emi mutters, and as Igula prepares to shuffle the cards again, she adds, “However, ‘Fate’s Bullet’ has a third possibility.”
“Oh?”
“And that is, it misses.” The werewolf lady shrugs, “Neither hitting the criminal nor the hostage.”
Igula laughs and asks, “Wouldn’t that an Miss Emi’s gun technique isn’t good?”
“Of course not!” Emi puffs up, “If an accident prevents my gun bullet from hitting, that ans—”
“—fate has its own plans.”
*
*
“Ah…”
Igula feels himself lying in a soft embrace, struggling to open his eyes, his lips parched as if burning. Gwen quickly offers him water, but it’s not enough, so she hastily prepares more using Technique Spirit from the air.
The Swindler lowers his head and sees most of his wounds have stopped bleeding, but the injuries have turned into extrely ugly burn scars, causing him to raise an eyebrow.
“In the future, with water therapy Technique Spirit, the scars can be removed,” Gwen whispers, “Don’t worry.”
Igula naturally isn’t worried about his appearance. Now that he’s a Holy Sanctuary Mage, even if as ugly as Qikara, he has the ans to be unrestrained.
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