Chapter 132: 131 Problem

“Finally willing to move?”

Seeing the nails scattered across the corridor and Leon’s bleeding knuckles, the dozen scar-faced directors couldn’t help but twitch their lips into a peculiar smile.

“It seems this ability differs from soul-sensing—using such an invisible attack or defense comes at a cost, and that cost is your skin, correct?”

Leon glanced at him but remained silent; the scar-faced director continued on his own.

“After the Lyon Blood Night, I investigated Lyon’s estate, and even while you were unconscious, I took a distant look at your injuries.”

“Aside from those who inexplicably killed themselves, many corpses died from vital organs destroyed by some invisible force—and you, unconscious at the estate’s entrance, had lost vast amounts of skin… This matches my theory perfectly.”

Watching Leon’s impassive figure in the distance, the dozen scar-faced directors shook their heads, then slowly reloaded their nail magazines as they spoke:

“Even if you deny it, the ‘usage rule’ of that offensive anomaly in your hands was already exposed after it was used at Lyon’s estate.”

“The one who gave me this ability once said: in battles between anomalies, information and strategy are sometimes more important than power itself. No matter how strong an ability is, once its mechanics are understood, a counter can always be found.”

“Coincidentally, your type—long range, high burst, but heavy cost—is perfectly countered by my ability. I don’t even need to do much: just keep forcing you to use your power, and you’ll kill yourself. Am I right?”

“...”

Watching the scar-faced brute before him, who feigned taunting but was subtly probing with words, Leon hesitated, then quietly released his grip on the black goat’s horn.

The ability of [War’s Counterpoint] only affects beings with souls—but the dozen scar-faced brutes before him were hollow shells, naturally immune to the black goat’s “provocation.”

Worse still, his true body wasn’t in the dungeon; Leon couldn’t leave the dungeon, and the [Holy Spirit Pendant]’s power couldn’t reach outside to kill his true form directly. The other anomalies were equally useless.

So the current situation was exactly as he said: Leon was essentially checkmated, forced to keep using the [Holy Spirit Pendant] to block shots, slowly consuming his flesh and stamina…

“Leon! Get into the interrogation room first!”

Though she couldn’t understand this “unscientific” battle, seeing Leon offer no rebuttal, the female officer vaguely realized the scar-faced director might be right—if they delayed further, Leon would be worn down to death.

Seeing the scar-faced brutes at the other end of the corridor finish reloading and swap out their air tanks, preparing for another volley, she cried out urgently:

“Go! If we block the door and he can’t break through the walls, he can only send in one or two at a time—we’ll buy ourselves more time!”

“...”

Wait… can’t break through the walls?

Leon paused, then immediately activated the [Holy Spirit Pendant], exchanging another sliver of skin to kill every single scar-faced brute at the far end, then turned and asked:

“Does your Secret Investigation Bureau have any high-yield explosives?”

“Huh? Yes! We confiscate some every time we arrest rebels, then destroy them regularly—the latest batch hasn’t been sent off yet…”

So there were some!

After shoving the corpses of the scar-faced brutes to block the stairwell entrance, Leon finally allowed a faint smile to appear.

From the dozen hollow bodies, the scar-faced brute’s “anomaly” likely had a mass-replication ability. And the guns in their hands—all identical in design and wear—suggesting replication wasn’t limited to living things, but extended to inanimate objects too.

Then why didn’t he just replicate explosives?

Thing?

If he truly wanted to wear Leon down, throwing explosives directly into the dungeon would be far easier and more effective than sending out a dozen armed hollows one by one—yet he chose the harder path, expending great effort to create dozens of gun-wielding shells instead of just dumping a pile of replicated explosives inside.

Excluding the possibility he was too stupid to think of it, the most likely reason was to minimize destruction—he feared too many explosives would destroy the dungeon!

And what the enemy feared most… is exactly what Leon should do now.

…

After the female officer’s “reminder” gave him a glimmer of a possible breakthrough, Leon pulled her into a corner, took a deep breath, and gripped the [Holy Spirit Pendant] tightly…

“Boom!”

A violent crash echoed as the wall nearest to them collapsed entirely, crumbling into a pile of shattered bricks and stone.

But this was only the beginning. At the cost of his own flesh, the [Holy Spirit Pendant]’s invisible sledgehammer surged forward like a speeding heavy truck, crushing everything in the dungeon it could destroy.

Amid a series of deafening roars, not only the interrogation rooms, but also the dozen temporary detention cells were systematically demolished by the pendant’s hammer, filling the entire dungeon with dust and rubble—once narrow and cramped corridors now lay wide and open.

Sensing the disturbance below, the hollow corpses blocking the stairwell were blown apart by explosions, as if someone was using explosives to force a way through.

But before new scar-faced brutes could rush in, the last few walls of the dungeon had already been torn down—even load-bearing pillars were snapped in two, and the southwest corner, piled with tools and supplies, had completely collapsed…

“What?! The walls are gone!”

“What’s happening?!”

“It’s collapsing! Run!!”

At the instant the dungeon corner caved in, something finally broke—the souls, once visible only in soul-vision, reappeared before Leon and the woman.

Sure enough, I was right from the start—demolishing the dungeon would let us escape!

Seeing the scar-faced brutes at the far end vanish, Leon exhaled sharply, then used the Witch’s Broom to summon a gale, sweeping the flying dust toward the stairwell and knocking over the panicked secret police and prisoners alike.

“Take them over there!”

Pointing to the few load-bearing pillars he hadn’t destroyed, Leon told the female officer to lead everyone there, then gripped the [Holy Spirit Pendant] and sprinted toward the stairwell.

As expected, after the dungeon was half-destroyed, the once “infinite loop” stairwell returned to normal—climbing up led not to another collapsed dungeon, but to the empty first-floor lobby of the Secret Investigation Bureau.

Just like the dungeon before?

Looking at the empty first-floor lobby, Leon frowned, preparing to test whether he could ascend further—when suddenly, the black goat warned him.

“Watch out!”

Leon’s expression hardened instantly; he activated the [Holy Spirit Pendant], forming a solid invisible wall around himself.

The next instant, over fifty nails hammered into it—then bounced off one after another by the pendant’s force.

The once-empty lobby had now filled with scar-faced brutes, each armed with guns—these ruthless “replicas” fired from afar, some even discarded their weapons and charged head-on, launching fearless assaults toward Leon standing in the stairwell…

Is that all?

Watching the scar-faced brutes rush toward him, only to be stopped a meter away by the [Holy Spirit Pendant], Leon shook his head slightly, ignored them, and walked upstairs.

Aside from extreme stealth—even soul-vision couldn’t detect any anomaly—his ability offered almost no direct combat power. No wonder he was sent as an infiltrator.

The real threat was never these “fake” replicas or their guns—but the strange ability that linked the stairwell’s upper and lower levels, trapping Leon inside.

But that ability couldn’t exist independently; once its carrier was destroyed, the strange distortion vanished.

So even if the connection between first and second floor was twisted again, it didn’t matter—Leon would just destroy the stairs once more. Now that he understood the ability’s limits, it could no longer trap him.

And clearly, he wasn’t the only one who realized this.

As Leon activated his “shield” and walked upward, enduring dozens of gunshots, the scar-faced brutes’ faces turned to despair—they lowered their weapons one by one, and vanished.

When Leon reached the fifth floor and stepped out of the stairwell, the surroundings had returned to normal—the noisy Secret Investigation Bureau as it had been.

On the left of the fifth floor, a large conference room held several secret police in heated debate; on the right, a semi-open office area saw two clerks struggling to push a cart loaded with files, dashing between desks, sweating as they distributed documents.

Further inside was the office the female officer had taken him to—the sign “Director’s Office” remained unchanged, and the man inside was still the same.

The only difference: the soul-flame that once burned with hostility and murderous intent now glowed with quiet despair and resignation, waiting for him.

The only difference was that the soul flame, once filled with hostility and murderous intent, had now become a quiet, despairing thing, waiting silently for his arrival.

Given up?

Looking at the soul-flame, Leon found no madness of mutual destruction—only regret, resentment, and a touch of resignation. He frowned, then walked forward and opened the door.

Seeing the state of the soul flame, he found no madness of mutual destruction—only regret, resentment, and a trace of resignation—then Li Ang frowned slightly and walked over to push open the door.

Seeing Leon enter, the scar-faced brute smiled, then calmly invited:

“Would you like to talk?

Before I die, I have many questions for you—and I suspect you do too. But please speak slowly. Your ability is terrifying—I don’t want to betray my comrades.

If you ask me something I can’t answer, I’ll kill myself immediately, and our conversation ends. Is that acceptable?”

“If you suddenly ask me a question I won’t answer, I’ll kill myself immediately, and our conversation ends. Is that acceptable?”

Seeing the state of the man’s soul, Leon confirmed he truly had a method to kill himself instantly—he held back his action and nodded:

“Fine. One question each—but I go first.”

“Fine. One question each, but I ask first.”

“That spatial-distortion ability isn’t yours, so you must have other accomplices. My question: when he and the bandage-woman escaped, how much intelligence about me did they take?”

“That ability to warp space isn’t yours, so you must have other accomplices. My question is: when he and the bandaged woman escaped, how much information about me did they take?”

Are you sure that’s “one” question?

After hearing Leon’s first question, the scar-faced director stared in utter disbelief:

“Don’t think I don’t know—you can read soul-states and deduce answers from reactions. Your statement looks like a declaration, but it’s secretly asking five questions!

First: is the distortion ability yours? Second: do you have other accomplices? Third: did they escape together? Fourth: did they take any intelligence? Fifth: how much of it was about you? That single sentence hid five questions—maybe more! This isn’t fair!”

“You first asked if the warping ability was mine, then confirmed whether I had accomplices, then asked if they escaped together and whether they took information, and only then did you ask how much about me they took—your single sentence squeezed in five questions or more! That’s unfair!”

“If you think it’s unfair, you don’t have to answer.”

If I don’t answer, I lose everything.

Looking at Leon’s expressionless face, the scar-faced director let out an exasperated sound.

If he died now, he’d get nothing. But if he answered, he’d get to ask one question in return—so either he traded one question for five, or he let himself be cheated out of four. Clearly, one-for-five was better.

“Not much—just theories about your ability and basic info the Bureau could access. That’s all. They took mostly other intelligence; information about you was incidental.”

After answering Leon’s question, the scar-faced director took a deep breath and asked:

“My first question: what’s upstairs in your Clean-up Bureau…?”

After answering Li Ang’s question, the scarred director took a deep breath and asked:

Leon cut him off, gripped the [Holy Spirit Pendant], and stared at him:

“Sorry. I won’t answer any of your questions. If you want to kill yourself, go ahead.”

Interrupting his question, Li Ang grabbed the Holy Spirit pendant and fixed his gaze on him:

The scar-faced brute opened his mouth in shock—his face flashed through anger, confusion, then utter bewilderment, ending in pure bafflement.

"Huh?"

The scar-faced giant blinked in shock, his face shifting rapidly from anger to confusion to bewilderment, ending in pure bafflement.

“Are you planning to cheat? You can see through people’s souls—this exchange is clearly in your favor! Besides, I’m about to kill myself; even if I learn the information, I won’t be able to bring it back. Why are you doing this?”

“Well, I can tell you that.”

Li Ang thought for a moment before replying:

“A senior who greatly helped me once told me: never exchange information lightly with an enemy who can threaten you, no matter how much it seems to benefit you—unless he’s truly dead. You’re only preparing to kill yourself, not actually dead yet.”

“Besides, I don’t even know what abilities your companions have. What if they possess some special power to extract information from corpses? Until you’re truly dead, I won’t reveal any information.”

“…”

“By the way, didn’t I just answer one of your questions? According to our agreement, can I ask another one now?”

“…”

Ask your mother! I’m about to die!

Fuck!