Chapter 638: Venting

In just a few seconds, both combatants sensed an observer and instinctively pulled apart, turning their gazes toward Lu Mi.

Leaning against the alley wall, Lu Mi chuckled.

"Keep fighting, don't mind me."

The young native, gripping a heavy short knife and slightly opening his left palm, stared at Lu Mi—the black-haired, green-eyed man with striking features and a golden straw hat—his eyes filled with wariness.

Who is he?

What does he want?

The short-haired man wielding two grotesque scalpels was equally alert.

He glanced at Lu Mi, then at the young native, suddenly crouched low and lowered his arms.

Thick black smoke, reeking sharply of sulfur, instantly engulfed him, completely obscuring his form.

Lu Mi's smile didn't fade; he slightly raised his right eyebrow.

Seeing this, the young native ignored Lu Mi's reaction, pushed his slightly open left palm forward, and the shadow hovering over his palm suddenly swelled into a twisted "cloud."

The "cloud" merged into the sulfur-scented zone, and in the blink of an eye, it sucked the black smoke into its body, clearing the alley entirely and allowing the crimson moon overhead to illuminate it once more.

But the man with short black hair, ink-green eyes, and a blank expression had vanished.

Gone? The young native was stunned, furious, and furious with himself.

As he searched for traces, he instinctively turned his head toward where Lu Mi had stood.

Before the wall, there was nothing—no trace of a figure.

When did he leave? How did I not notice at all? The young native, gripping the heavy short knife, was bewildered, unsure whether to pursue his target.

…………

Bram, having successfully escaped the alley using his quasi-magical ability, tucked away his two scalpels and walked through dark, unlit streets, constantly changing direction to shake off imagined pursuers.

During this, he broke into a cobbler's shop by the roadside, swapped his shoes for a pair that didn't quite fit, and erased all signs of forced entry.

After circling three large loops, Bram returned to the alley where the fight had occurred and entered a house in the nearby neighborhood.

It was a crude apartment built from dark stone and brown wood.

Bram opened his own room, stepped inside, and shut the wooden door behind him.

Only then did he exhale.

Then, from a gray-white cloth bag hanging at his waist, he pulled out a transparent glass bottle containing a nearly colorless liquid tinged with faint crimson, inside which floated a lip—still vivid with blood, full-lipped, slightly parted, as if frozen in intense pain and terror.

Bram gazed at the bottle in his hand, entranced, as if admiring a work of art.

After a long while, he lowered his gaze, walked to the side of the room, and opened a cabinet standing there.

Inside the cabinet sat seven or eight similar glass bottles, each holding a pair of lips—dull in hue, each with distinct contours, slightly curled or pouted.

Bram placed his new trophy in the empty space and painted a sinister symbol upon it with thick, blood-red paint.

After finishing, his fingers brushed across the glass bottles, caressing each pair of lips, as if appreciating each masterpiece in an art exhibition.

"What a pervert."

Suddenly, a mocking voice echoed in Bram's ear.

He spun sharply toward the sound's origin and saw, seated on the armchair beside the table, a young man in a white shirt with the top two buttons undone, wearing a golden straw hat, black hair, and green eyes.

Him?

Bram's pupils dilated rapidly—he recognized the man who had suddenly appeared in his room:

The observer from his fight with the "Spirit Cult" member!

When did he follow me?

How did he track me without me noticing…

Lu Mi smiled and kindly answered the questions in Bram's mind:

"Has no one ever told you the preservative in that bottle has a very obvious smell?"

"And you reeked of blood when you killed."

Bram's heart tightened.

"Are you a 'Hunter'?"

As he spoke, he slowly, silently shifted his stance.

"You know quite a bit," Lu Mi remained seated, "so why cut off the lips, soak them in preservative, and carry them around? That's not the behavior of a proper 'serial killer.' I see—you have a collector's urge, a need to hoard trophies, both for your own satisfaction and as ritual components? Hmph, desire leads to error. 'Cold-blooded' means calm and cold, but even the calm make mistakes, betting their oversights won't be caught."

When Lu Mi saw the sulfur-scented black smoke, he already guessed the man was a Sequence 7 "Serial Killer" of the Criminal Path.

The New White City's *Demonology* mentioned that at Sequence 8 of the Criminal Path—the "Cold-Blooded," also called the "Fallen Angel"—the body develops inhuman traits and gains two or three quasi-magical abilities from demonic domains, varying by individual: some gain toxic fire, others "cursed speech," and "generating black smoke" is one such ability.

Based on the target's combat performance, Lu Mi concluded he was only Sequence 7—a mere "Serial Killer."

Hearing Lu Mi's mockery, Bram's temple twitched.

He stayed calm, inching sideways as he whispered:

"Did you come here just to chat?"

"What do you really want from me?"

As he finished speaking, thick black smoke reeking of sulfur once again enveloped Bram.

Using the smoke as cover, Bram's eyes darkened, activating another of his demonic quasi-magical abilities.

His body shifted color like a chameleon, blending almost perfectly with the spreading smoke.

Then he moved swiftly, silently reaching the door, flinging it open, and lunging out.

Bram's vision blurred—he saw the still-spreading black smoke, and the green-eyed man in the golden straw hat, still seated on the armchair, smiling at him.

He was back inside the room.

The only difference from before: he now faced away from the door.

"Illusory Bottle!"

The first thing Lu Mi did after entering the room wasn't to pose—he constructed an "Illusory Bottle" that blocked all exits from the room, invisible to any adept.

Bram didn't let despair or frustration overwhelm him; within the obscuring black smoke, he lunged sideways, rolled to the bedside, and pulled out a six-barreled machine gun from beneath it.

He raised the gun, aimed at Lu Mi, and pulled the trigger.

*Tatata! Lu Mi's figure vanished from the armchair; the furniture there was shredded by a storm of metal bullets.

Gone? Bram barely registered the thought before instinctively looking up—he saw the man in the golden straw hat descending from the ceiling, surrounded by a swarm of crimson-to-white fire crows.

*Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh! The fire crows, faster than Lu Mi, surged one after another toward Bram.

Bram had no time to escape the encirclement—he dropped the machine gun, curled into a ball, and tried to roll under the bed to avoid the explosion.

But the crimson-to-white fire crows dissolved on their own; Lu Mi landed on both feet before him, slipping on a gray-white lightning-shaped brooch as he smiled:

"Didn't you just ask what I wanted to do?"

"What I want is simple:

"I haven't vented in too long—I need a human punching bag."

As he spoke, Lu Mi swung a punch at Bram, who had curled up.

Bram instinctively raised his right arm to block.

*Boom! A streak of silver-white lightning shot from Lu Mi's fist into Bram's arm, spreading through his entire body.

Bram shuddered; even with his inhuman transformation, he experienced brief paralysis.

Lu Mi's other fist followed, smashing directly into Bram's cheek.

*Crack!

The "Serial Killer's" head snapped sideways; several teeth flew out, mixed with blood.

Silver-white lightning flared again, surging through Bram's head.

*Boom, boom, boom! Lu Mi struck left and right in rapid succession, his fists a relentless barrage, making Bram feel as if caught in a thunderstorm—unable to counter, barely able to defend against the electric shocks.

*Boom, boom, boom!

Lu Mi's expression was icy; punch after punch hammered Bram's face, chest, arms, and skull—crushing his ribs, swelling his face, fracturing his skull inward, his upper body covered in charred marks.

After the beating, Lu Mi clasped his fists and raised his arms.

He slammed them down onto Bram's left shoulder.

*Crack!

Bram's left shoulder collapsed completely.

He collapsed to the floor, no longer human in form, his breath faint and weak.

"That's it already? Doesn't matter—I can have my servant heal you, then we'll continue." Lu Mi smiled and stopped.

To Bram, this was the standard smile of a demon.

Before Bram could react in terror, Lu Mi removed the "Wrath of the Sea" brooch, returned it to his "Traveler's Satchel," and asked in a gentle tone:

"Tell me—what family are you from?"

Bram's body had already begun its inhuman transformation; his constitution was strong, and Lu Mi had deliberately avoided vital areas—he was not yet near unconsciousness and could still think.

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind, but his final mental image was Lu Mi's smile.

After a brief silence, Bram answered weakly:

"I am of the Andrelad family."

(End of Chapter)