Chapter 565: This Weapon Isn't Quite Up to Par

"Is he dead or..."

Dupont crouched down, lifting a piece of skin; after the Godscion·Lust had his head crushed by Tang Luo, only this skin remained.

"Judging by his words, it sounds like he could still retaliate against us; maybe he isn't dead." Lola speculated.

"It could also just be pure bluster; he's probably waiting for some brothers of his to avenge him, waiting for us in hell—after we die." Celicia said.

Similar to sayings like "I won't let you off even as a ghost" or "I'll wait for you to join me in hell."

"Regardless, the World-Destroyer created the Bloodkin; these people are stronger than High Demons. Their exact numbers are unknown, but they will be our new enemies." Holt said, frowning.

Even he, who had already advanced a step further, dared not claim he would be a match for the Godscion·Lust.

How many such "people" are there?

Even if their number equals that of our Generals, it would be catastrophic news.

The only good news is Tang Luo's existence.

From the situation just now, not only could he single-handedly pummel this Godscion·Lust with one hand, he also forced the Bloodkin to become tools to enhance the five of them.

With him here, everything is settled.

Thinking this way, everyone's mood relaxed again.

In this operation, Holt and Dupont improved the most obviously.

Originally, the five Generals had roughly equal strength; even if Holt was slightly stronger, it was only in frontal assault battles.

After this battle, Dupont and Holt pulled a gap away from the other three.

The other three were no longer a match for the two of them.

Lola and Clement also improved somewhat, but not as obviously.

As for Celicia, he felt his goal could change: no longer summoning a hundred Phantom Warriors, but instead updating the "Original Art" in *Paradise Lost* and painting Tang Luo!

Directly bypassing quantitative change, developing toward qualitative change.

"Captain, where do we go next?" Dupont turned, looking at Tang Luo and asked.

The others did the same.

Tang Luo had already thoroughly proven his strength; this thick thigh, they were hugging it for sure!

"You choose." Tang Luo said, "Choose places where the World-Destroyer has appeared, where High Demons have appeared, and where demon numbers are greatest."

To sum it up: rush toward wherever is most dangerous.

Charge through recklessly; no reckless death, no life.

As long as you don't die from recklessness, be reckless to the death.

"Good!" Dupont said eagerly.

A few days later, on the slightly rocking train, Celicia looked at Dupont and said: "Stop fidgeting like a monkey."

"I didn't move."

"You moved; your left eyebrow twitched." Celicia sat opposite Dupont.

*Paradise Lost* opened; he held a brush, painting Dupont's portrait.

"You can even notice that?" Dupont said, "Such a tiny movement isn't allowed? Do you want me to be a statue?"

"If possible, being like Holt would be best." Celicia said.

Dupont looked over at Holt, steady as Mount Tai; after his strength increased, he was composed when he should be, and more hot-blooded than even Dupont when it was time for passion. Dupont shook his head repeatedly, indicating he couldn't learn that.

"Moved again."

Celicia helplessly set down his brush, "Looks like it'll take at least a month to finish."

"You weren't this slow before." Dupont said, "And I used to fidget before too; didn't you finish painting me then?"

"Before was before, now is now; can they be the same?" Celicia said.

Before, painting Dupont was a bit troublesome, but not nearly this difficult.

He painted for several days and only produced a facial outline, the kind where even the features were blurry.

Now, with Dupont's strength increase, painting became much more difficult; the slightest movement from Dupont would cause Celicia's "inspiration to break," making it hard to put brush to paper.

"So you're saying I, Grandpa Dupont, am the strongest now?" Dupont said smugly.

Celicia looked at him with disdain, closed *Paradise Lost*, and walked over to Holt.

This guy Dupont wouldn't be able to update his "Original Art" anytime soon; better focus on painting Holt.

Painting Holt's difficulty was no lower than Dupont's.

But there was one advantage: when needed, Holt could be as immobile as a mountain—even on a train.

This reduced Celicia's painting difficulty.

These past two days, the time spent on Dupont was double that on Holt, yet their progress was about the same.

Fortunately Dupont wasn't entirely useless; at least painting him could train Celicia's painting skill.

Before becoming an Exorcist, Celicia was a painter of average skill but not at all down on his luck.

Why not down on his luck? One look at that handsome face told you; he was the darling of noblewomen.

Earning money with his face and body, then pouring the hard-earned money into his dream, Celicia originally thought that after becoming a famous master painter, this experience would become extremely inspirational.

He never expected that before becoming a famous master painter, he became an Exorcist ahead of schedule.

Then he became a General.

Speaking of it, even after becoming a General, Celicia to a certain extent hadn't strayed from his essence—relying on people.

He, Celicia, made his way in the world relying on having all kinds of friends.

Many friends, strong friends, and he, Celicia, became stronger.

With this trait, Celicia didn't need to risk his life like others, using the great terror between life and death to raise his strength.

Others improve; if he can paint it out, it equals a rise in strength.

So Celestia, who relied on friends for going out and exorcism, merely gave Dupont a disdainful look.

Lola wouldn't stand on ceremony with Dupont: "Strongest? Come on, look at the Captain and say that again."

Dupont froze for a moment, then retorted: "The strongest I meant excludes the Captain."

"Fine then, look at Holt and say it again." Lola harbored ill intentions.

"We can spar after getting off." Holt revealed a smile.

"..."

Celestia walked to the seat opposite Holt and sat down, opening Paradise Lost.

Holt moved his limbs in advance, then maintained his sitting posture without moving, letting Celestia smoothly spend ten minutes.

After drawing for ten minutes, Celestia relaxed her hands, quite tired.

Then, she slowly exhaled a breath, stood up, walked over to Tang Luo's side: "Captain, I'll try once more."

Tang Luo, eyes closed, looking as if asleep, said: "As you wish."

The power of merit is accumulating; with the time of heaven and earth vital energy, basic cultivation recovery must not be lacking either, since idling is idling anyway.

Cultivation recovery of injuries has never been a painful process for Tang Luo.

Seeing Celestia sit down, the four exorcists huddled together, discussing in low voices: "You think how many strokes he can draw this time?"

"I bet three strokes."

"Two strokes, absolutely no more."

"Four strokes."

"I think five strokes." Clement had the most confidence in Celestia.

"Just two strokes, if I lose I'll treat tonight!" Dupont swore solemnly.

Even he can't draw it out, yet can draw the Captain?

"Deal, you treat tonight." Lola agreed in one breath, preventing Dupont from reneging.

Exorcists' appetites are all quite large, especially these Generals; if they wanted, three to five days or even a week without eating, only needing to drink water, they could maintain considerable stamina and combat power.

But if they really let loose for a meal, the food consumed could be dozens of ordinary people's meals.

Ordinary exorcists' food intake is also three to five times that of common people.

A major expense of the Holy Regiment is food; not only must exorcists eat their fill, they must eat well.

If Dupont really treats a meal, the cost won't be small.

Fortunately exorcists' wages aren't low; treating is definitely affordable, just a heavy bleed.

These few bets have a reason.

This isn't Celestia's first attempt at drawing Tang Luo.

In fact, after fishing out the God-Descendant · Lust, the first thing Celestia did wasn't update Holt and the other's original art, but attempt to draw Tang Luo.

The first stroke, no, the first attempt, Celestia could even be said to have completely not put brush to paper.

She pinched the brush, stared at Tang Luo for half an hour, yet couldn't bring herself to set brush to paper.

After resting a day, Celestia rallied; this time, she drew two strands of hair.

The third time, when everyone thought Celestia could draw a third strand of hair, she drew another strand and collapsed.

Too hard, couldn't endure.

So Celestia made updating Dupont and the others' portraits the current top priority.

As for Tang Luo's side, it became a difficult challenge mission; being able to draw out one more stroke was a gain.

"Heard that?" Lola looked at Celestia and said, "Even for Dupont's treat, you have to grit your teeth and draw a bit more."

Celestia didn't respond; she had already entered a state of single-minded focus, looking at Tang Luo, the brush heavy as a thousand jun in her hand slowly descending.

Then, with a huala sound, a long line was drawn.

"..."

"... One stroke?"

"Hahaha, I won!" Dupont laughed loudly, "Tonight we eat a good meal."

"This long, should count as three strokes." Lola intended to welch on the spot.

"Hey!" Dupont said, "This won't do."

"This—" Celestia's astonished voice interrupted everyone's noisy clamor.

Everyone curiously crowded over to look; on Paradise Lost, the few strokes Celestia had painstakingly drawn were actually slowly disappearing.

"What does this mean?" Holt asked.

Very worried, could it be something happened to Tang Luo?

He's their strongest backer, absolutely cannot have an accident!

"It means Paradise Lost cannot bear the Captain's Phantom Warrior." Celestia said.

As an exorcist, a Sacred Weapon's master, she still has this much perception.

"Just now couldn't help but 'raise' a bit." Tang Luo opened his eyes and said, "Can't draw anymore?"

Couldn't help but raise a bit?

Is raising strength this simple?

The so-called raise, of course, is injury recovery; after all, having accumulated quite a bit of merit power, Tang Luo cultivated and regulated his breathing, felt it was about time, simply consumed a bit, letting his uninjured upper limit reach 6.2 tenths.

The result seemed to exceed Paradise Lost's upper limit.

Causing the drawn thing to directly disappear.

"Your Sacred Weapon isn't up to par." Tang Luo evaluated.