Chapter 798: Duel

Facing Aunth's retort, Lumian let out a "huh," muttering to himself:

This guy's got a sharp sense…

I wonder when he was exiled to Mogang, but he's probably never eaten here before…

Did he notice some people in Mogang developed abnormalities after eating here, so he came to check it out?

In a flash of thought, Lumian slammed his fist hard against the bar counter.

He leapt off the high stool and coldly addressed the bartender, whose expression had long been grim:

"You're trying to fool me with this meat as steak?"

"Call your boss out!"

The bartender blinked in surprise:

"You're serious?"

He didn't look embarrassed or angry at Lumian's tone—instead, a hint of excitement crept into his expression.

Lumian didn't answer, his gaze silently demanding the boss come out immediately.

The bartender immediately shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Boss! Boss! Someone's here to smash your bar!"

Within seconds, a figure burst out from the kitchen.

The figure had wild, tangled hair, a face swollen with layers of fat that squeezed his eyes into tiny slits, yet his body was perfectly proportioned, showing no trace of excess flesh.

Dressed in a white apron and gripping a thick-backed cleaver likely used for chopping bones, he glared at the two customers near the bar and bellowed in Lunbao dialect:

"Who? Who wants to smash my bar?"

Lumian pointed at the white porcelain plate holding the steak and sneered:

"You think I can't tell what kind of meat this is?"

"I say it's steak, it's steak," replied the fat-faced boss without backing down.

Lumian didn't argue. He pulled a black glove from "The Traveler's Satchel" and tossed it onto the floor before him with a snap.

"I challenge you to a duel," Lumian said in a calm tone.

Throwing a glove to issue a duel challenge was an Intis custom.

The boss glanced at the black glove on the ground, his fat cheeks unfolding layer by layer to reveal the pale yellow beard hidden beneath.

He was smiling.

He accepted Lumian's challenge:

"Fine."

No sooner had the word left his lips than he swung his massive cleaver in a brutal downward slash toward Lumian.

Lumian sidestepped the blow—but suddenly realized he couldn't use his "Teleport" ability.

This contract power from the "Pus-Infested Severed Hand" seemed stripped away by some strange force!

Lumian instantly recalled Ludwig's description of the Sequence 5 "Depriver" on the "Gourmet" path, suspecting the bartender Jian chef before him was a Xieshen -empowered follower of that path.

"No wonder he could make severed-hand flesh look and smell just like real steak…"

"Why isn't a Xieshen -empowered being outright executed, but instead exiled to Mogang?"

"Don't just dump every piece of trash into Mogang…"

"Are they afraid Mogang's population will dwindle too much to contain the '0—01' beneath?"

As these thoughts flashed through Lumian's mind, he swung his shoulder, bulged his upper arm, and launched a right hook.

His fist burst into bright, blazing white flames, trailing like a peacock's tail as it surged toward the bartender.

BOOM!

When his fist struck the side of the heavy cleaver, a violent explosion erupted.

Blinding white fire instantly illuminated the entire bar; the furious shockwave overturned nearby high stools and hurled the grotesquely fat boss across the room.

Aunth reacted instantly, leaping off the stool beside Lumian and landing on the far end of the bar counter.

He pulled one leg up, resting his foot on the counter, watching Lumian and the bartender's duel with keen interest.

The bartender was also caught in the blast, thrown against the liquor shelf and drenched in the rich liquids spilling from shattered bottles.

He nearly caught fire.

The bartender, bearing the full force of the explosion, had his chest clothing torn apart, his flesh charred and bloody, exposing gleaming white bones.

His face bore similar wounds, but the thick layers of fat had so far spared his skull.

These wounds were rapidly writhing and regenerating in an unnatural, non-human way—clearly healing within moments.

"This isn't a power or trait a 'Depriver' should have—none of the lower to mid-ranks on the 'Gourmet' path should possess it… Is this a special ability gained through unique food? It's similar to how the severed hand regrows its rotting flesh after being eaten…" Lumian retreated a few steps using the explosion's momentum, putting distance between himself and the bartender.

As he noticed the bartender's peculiar trait, he also realized he'd lost another ability.

It was the "Hengha Technique."

"Can the 'Depriver' sense which of my powers or traits pose the greatest threat? Even if they don't know the exact nature of those abilities, they can strip them based on danger level?" Lumian calmly gathered a massive, blazing white fireball and hurled it toward the bartender.

The bartender didn't dodge. Raising his cleaver, now chipped and nearly shattered by the explosion, he slashed directly into the fireball.

The fireball split cleanly in two, losing all forward momentum and destructive aura, as the bartender opened his mouth wide and swallowed it like a whale drinking seawater—unharmed.

At that moment, Lumian smiled.

Around him, one after another blazing white fireball coalesced from the air and hurtled toward the bartender.

Behind him, one after another blazing white fire-raven emerged, tracing wide arcs to circle around the bartender's back.

He wanted to see just how many fireballs this "Depriver" could handle, how much he could swallow—whether he'd burst from overeating!

The bartender's eyes sharpened. He spat out the white flames flowing into his stomach, turning them into a torrent that met the incoming swarm of fireballs.

Seeing this, Aunth pushed off with one hand and flipped over the bar counter.

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

The bartender's fire stream detonated each incoming fireball in sequence.

In the explosions, the bar counter was flattened, the liquor shelf collapsed silently, and spilled liquor ignited into roaring flames.

The bartender, now safely at Aunth's former position, was deeply grateful he'd reacted in time.

Other patrons in the bar either huddled at the edges or had already fled the main hall—clearly experienced in such chaos.

ZZZZ—The fire-ravens, deliberately avoiding the front and the chain of explosions, landed one by one on the bartender's back.

But now the bartender's body had turned semi-translucent crimson, like solidified moonlight.

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

Amid the explosions and burning of the fire-ravens, the bartender's crimson, moonlit form didn't dim—it glowed brighter, reflecting the flames.

When the last sparks of fire fell, the bartender returned to his normal appearance, raised his cleaver again, and turned his gaze toward where Lumian had stood.

No one was there.

Lumian was nowhere to be seen in the bar hall.

The bartender froze for a moment.

Almost simultaneously, a figure emerged from his shadow.

Lumian, with iron-black eyes, drove his right fist—covered in blazing white flames that engulfed his entire arm—straight into the bartender's groin.

With a thunderous roar, Lumian's fist struck the weak point, punching directly into the "Depriver's" intestines; the white flames surged upward.

He straightened his stance, lifted the bartender, and channeled the searing heat of his fist into the enemy's stomach.

Then Lumian retracted his fist and hurled the man to the ground.

THUD. The bartender's groin split open completely; his intestines spilled out in severed segments, his stomach still intact but charred and oozing yellow-green fluid.

Lumian stared at the two tiny, agonized eyes squeezed by fat and sneered:

"Did you eat your own brain as food? After blocking one attack and exiting the moonlight state, you stayed right where you were—didn't even move."

"Didn't you consider I might use your shadow?"

The bartender's face twisted in confusion. He murmured:

"Can… your own… brain… be made into food…?"

His voice faded, then vanished. He lay motionless on the floor, lifeless.

Lumian stared at the corpse of the "Depriver," not thinking about what mistakes the man had made—but noticing something odd from the fight:

"The 'Depriver's' abilities are truly varied. Though each is crude and primitive, inferior to contract powers, they're still terrifying in combat…"

"If this guy hadn't reacted so stiffly and slowly when I vanished, I wouldn't have hit his weak point so easily—I might've had to use one of the magical items in 'The Traveler's Satchel'…"

"Compared to that thief, Wolms, who didn't have this problem…"

As Lumian thought, he shook his hand. His knuckles were covered in wounds where flesh had been corroded, throbbing with intense pain.

It was from the "stomach acid" that had splashed onto his hand when he struck the bartender's stomach.

At the time, his hand had been protected by blazing white flames.

After a moment's thought, though he couldn't prevent the bartender's bestowed power from returning to its giver, Lumian crouched down, drew a plain straight sword from "The Traveler's Satchel," and, using his own white flames, severed the stomach from the corpse.

He planned to ask Ludwig later whether it could be turned into a dish with special effects—or consult the "Artisan" about using it as a unique material.

Having finished this, Lumian stood upright and asked the bartender, who had just emerged from hiding with serious injuries:

"How many years has your boss been exiled to Mogang?"

"Five or six years," the bartender could only give a rough estimate.

Five or six years… The thief before him looked younger, probably exiled for only one or two years… The longer someone stays in Mogang, the more likely they develop stiffness and dullness—the symptoms of experimental subjects? No, the sealing records mention nothing of this, and Trill has no such cases… Did the bartender do something in Mogang that started turning him into an experimental subject? Lumian scanned the room, then smiled and said:

"Don't touch my spoils."

He meant the money on the bartender's body.

Lu Mi walked immediately toward the aisle beside the bar.

Based on the origin of the "steak" and the location of the "chef," he reasonably suspected that the portion of the corpse known as "Pus-Swollen Severed Hand" was inside the kitchen.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, he saw half of a corpse—green-black, swollen, and highly decomposed—openly displayed on the preparation counter.

(End of Chapter)