This was where Magic-Body Techniques truly showed their strength.
They were not rely simple energy release, but could attach various deadly special effects to otherwise plain physical attacks.
Lance roughly estimated that the activation just now had consud about 1 unit of Aether Energy from his pool.
This level of consumption was extrely low, basically equivalent to a spellcaster casting a Zero-Ring Spell.
And this was precisely the biggest difference between lee professionals and those spellcasting elites.
Spellcasters had to strictly control their energy output according to the upper and lower limits of their Spell Models. Once control was lost, they would suffer backlash.
lee professionals, on the other hand, were much more straightforward and crude.
They only needed to consider the amount of energy consumption, and could even pour out all their energy in a single instant without worrying about model collapse or backlash.
But this crudeness did not an there was no finesse.
lee skills had a clear “efficiency range” when it ca to Aether consumption.
Once that range was exceeded, the energy conversion rate would drop off a cliff.
For example, if the optimal energy range for a move was between 1 and 10—
If one insisted on dumping 50 units of energy into it, the final damage might only be about 30% higher than using 10 units.
For lee professionals who already had limited energy reserves, this behavior was simply an enormous waste.
“That’s about enough.”
Lance glanced at the night outside the window and did not continue testing the remaining moves.
Actual combat was the best proving ground for skills.
There were still matters to attend to tonight.
Through Jeff’s secrets, he had already selected several targets to deal with.
According to the intelligence, one of them seed like a formidable character in Jeff’s eyes, but Lance felt that sothing about it was off.
……
Wayne was an indispensable Gold Washer within the Ghoulhound organization.
His job was to process the goods handled by people like “Razor” through various shady gray channels, converting them into circulating silver coins.
Just monts ago, he had completed a transaction involving goods that had been piled up for half a month, and his mood was fairly good.
Originally, Wayne looked down on a backwater place like Graystone Town.
He had once belonged to a fairly well-known underground black-market organization in White River City, responsible for trap deploynt and outer periter reconnaissance.
Unfortunately, later on, due to greed, he secretly skimd a portion of the stolen goods while handling them and was discovered by his superiors. He had no choice but to flee overnight and hide here.
However, because the organization he had once belonged to carried so reputation in the circles, the bumpkins in Ghoulhound seed to hold him in high regard.
This sense of being admired made him feel that staying in this small place wasn’t so bad after all.
But the shadow of being hunted in the past always lingered in his heart, causing him to beco extrely sensitive—even sowhat paranoid and suspicious.
His residence was located in a deep alley beside a tailor shop in the Craftsman District.
It was a very inconspicuous single room, perfectly fitting for soone like him who needed to hide his identity.
The stairway inside the building was dim, with no light at all, but he was already familiar with the environnt—he could walk back to his room with his eyes closed.
Wayne humd an off-key tune as he took out his key and opened the door.
However, the mont his foot stepped over the threshold, the relaxed expression on his face instantly froze.
The room was pitch black, so quiet that only the occasional sound of wind from outside the window could be heard.
Everything looked the sa as usual.
But Wayne knew—sothing was wrong.
The sll had changed.
Within this room filled with mold and dust, there was a foreign scent that didn’t belong.
This ca from his Common-grade Talent 【Scent Recording】.
Like a hunting dog, he could record slls and perform precise comparisons in his mind.
Originally, this was a sowhat useless Talent, but at this critical mont, it proved its worth.
Soone had entered!
Wayne closed the door without a sound and used the motion of turning around to quickly scan the room.
It was too dark—he couldn’t see anything.
But he knew his room well. The layout was extrely simple.
Aside from a single bed and a worn-out sofa, there was almost no extra furniture.
The only place that could hide an adult and was also a blind spot in his field of vision was the gap behind the wardrobe.
Logically—
That intruder had to be there!
Wayne suppressed his racing heartbeat and pretended to notice nothing.
While adjusting his breathing rhythm, he rapidly constructed a tactical model in his mind.
“The opponent chose to sneak in at night. He definitely wouldn’t use weapons like blades that could make noise.”
“To ensure stealth, he must be using a poisoned silent hand crossbow!”
“If I show any abnormality now, he’ll imdiately pull the trigger.”
The kerosene lamp was beside the sofa—he couldn’t go over and light it now.
He had to act natural.
Wayne’s hand casually reached toward his belt, as if to unbuckle it and hang his clothes on the wall, but in reality, his right hand had already quietly gripped the handle of the dagger hidden at his waist.
“From that wardrobe gap to my current position, the bolt would take about 0.4 seconds to reach .”
“Human reaction speed has limits—I have to predict his prediction!”
Wayne’s eyes beca incomparably focused in the darkness—the gaze of a hunter about to kill its prey.
If it were , I would choose the timing…
With his back to that blind spot, he silently counted down.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One… now! He’s going to act!”
“Ha!”
Wayne suddenly let out a low roar. His entire body tensed, and he burst forward like a pouncing leopard.
Mid-air, he executed an extrely perfect tactical roll, dodging the imagined incoming bolt.
At the sa ti, his hands flashed as he drew two poison-coated daggers from his sleeves.
With a flick of his right hand, one dagger shot toward the predicted hiding spot with a piercing sound, while he himself followed closely behind, gripping the other dagger in reverse and lunging viciously forward.
The entire sequence flowed like water, without the slightest hesitation.
“Trying to kill , Wayne? You’re still too green!”
However—
The mont his dagger stabbed fiercely into that patch of darkness—
Sothing felt wrong.
There was no resistance of blade piercing flesh, nor any scream as expected.
He had missed.
There was nothing there but a cloud of old dust.
Wayne’s ferocious yet confident grin froze instantly on his face.
“Excuse .”
A calm, emotionless voice suddenly sounded from the other side of the room.
Wayne, who had been facing the wardrobe in a battle-ready stance, stiffened abruptly.
His neck turned slowly, like rusted gears grinding into motion.
The previously pitch-black room was now illuminated by a warm yellow glow.
At so unknown mont, the kerosene lamp on the table beside the sofa had already been lit.
A man dressed in a dark gray night cloak sat there, half of his face hidden beneath the hood’s shadow.
But Wayne could feel it—the other party was looking at him like he was an idiot.
That man was Lance.
User Comments
0 comments from readers