"It's simply changing the 'transaction' of information into an 'interrogation.' After I kill them all, I'll slowly pry the truth of the matter from your mouth..."
The second-category, lower-tier secret art, [Blood Burn], was already activated. It enhanced muscle strength, physical endurance, reaction speed, healing rate, and pain resistance.
Bartley rolled away from his cover, and several bullet marks immediately landed behind him.
He was fast, like a nimble black panther, arriving before an assassin in the blink of an eye.
With an upward slash, he cut off half of his head, along with the entire skin of his face.
Plop.
Blood gushed out. The skin lying on the ground was still twitching from the pain.
Bartley didn't stop. He grabbed the man's neck, using his body as a new shield to block the following lead pellets.
Holding the person with one hand and his saw-cleaver with the other, he charged straight at Louisa.
Although he said he'd interrogate her, this woman was slippery and would likely flee if the situation turned bad. He had to disable her mobility before that.
"Heh... coming straight for me? I think fleeing might be wiser..."
Seeing Bartley's almost unstoppable charge, Louisa showed no fear. Instead, she laughed lowly.
Clang!
An assassin tried to stab a dagger into Bartley's back, but he severed both hands at the wrists with his saw-cleaver. Panicked screams and the sounds of ordinary patrons fleeing intertwined, echoing chaotically through the tavern.
Tsk, after this, the Abyssal Sea Tavern will probably put me on their blacklist next time. Their dark ale is one of the best in Foy, damn it...
Although Bartley was a madman of the Black Banyan type, he wasn't particularly bloodthirsty. His hatred was more directed at abominations.
Slaughtering hired pirates like these didn't really interest him... Of course, since these guys wanted his life, he wouldn't hold back at all.
Come and get it if you want, see if you have the ability to survive my blade!
"Is this guy even human? He's fiercer than the beasts in the sea..."
An assassin, seeing Bartley charging towards him, couldn't help but tremble.
For ordinary pirates, the weaker the opponent, the more cunning and ferocious they could appear. But once they encountered a truly terrifying enemy, this rabble would almost instantly have their morale collapse.
Bartley's cruel display was also to spread fear among them. This tactic was very effective when fighting alone against many.
He swept through the crowd, occasionally cutting down assassins who attacked him, almost effortlessly closing in on Louisa.
"Truly worthy of being a 'Supervisor'..."
Severed limbs, blood, chaos, and the aura of death filled the entire tavern. But Louisa still showed no intention of leaving, her words filled only with joy and enjoyment.
Yes, Bartley was also a Burial Court Supervisor.
After all, only those who had reached the rank of Supervisor were qualified to assess newly promoted Supervisors... But he always despised empty titles, so he never let anyone call him Supervisor and never wore the brass signet ring symbolizing the rank.
Louisa's voice was sinister and carried a taunting, unbridled mockery that grew increasingly irritating.
"Old hag, can you shut up?"
Bartley elbowed the person guarding Louisa, shattering his cheek, then brought down his saw-cleaver, striking her leg.
Although the restless agitation in his chest kept accumulating, he still remembered to leave a live prisoner for interrogation.
Clang!
The moment the saw-cleaver made contact with the robed woman's leg, it produced a sharp metallic clang. The sharpened blade only cut through the skin and muscle, getting stuck in her bone.
This bizarre feeling sent a chill through Bartley's heart, momentarily halting his rage and frenzy.
After that, he saw an arm covered in strange chitin extend from beneath the black robe.
Although this hand retained five human fingers, it more closely resembled an insect's pincer, covered in mottled patterns.
"See? This is the gift the Nightmare Guest gave me, a... gift I couldn't refuse."
"It's a noble Molt, bringing me closer to the revered Transfiguration than foolish mortals and lamp moths."
Louisa laughed, emitting a rustling, whispering sound like the chirping of a mole cricket.
Hearing that night-insect-like song, Bartley felt his own thoughts becoming muddled and chaotic, like an uncontrollable wild horse breaking free and galloping madly.
Was it the second-category, upper-tier secret art [Hound Mimicry]? And with such strong effectiveness and spirituality, had Louisa already been promoted to High Priest? But Moth followers only underwent Molt at higher ranks, why had she transformed into an insectoid form at the Fourth Ladder?
Relying on some relic or Sacred Spawn remnant? But the Nightmare Guest himself wasn't even at the High Priest rank, how could he offer a bargaining chip of that level?
Being able to block weapons made of [Pseudomorph Steel], her body was probably already tainted by an abomination.
Were all those ordinary people just to buy time for the secret art to take effect? Must break contact, escape through the window or break down the door? No, that's a meaningless question...
No, stop! Must, make thinking... stop!
Madness was rapidly accumulating. Bartley's mind was more chaotic than ever before. He could only further catalyze the [Blood Burn] art, abandon thought, and hand his body completely over to instinct.
Haa—
A low growl, not quite human, escaped Bartley's throat. Flickering golden-red embers gradually appeared on his body.
At the same time, several daggers had already pierced his body from various angles. Even a lead pellet had embedded itself in his shoulder blade, causing a bloody mess.
"How unwise... beasts are the easiest to drive mad."
Seeing the man's reaction exactly as she predicted, Louisa's face beneath the robe revealed a hint of mockery.
At this point, Bartley had become a cornered beast.
Even if he could kill a few more assassins with the powerful physique of a Secrets-Hunter, he would soon exhaust his spirituality and stamina due to the unchecked Blood Burn.
After all, a mortal at the Third Ladder, even armed to the teeth... was still incredibly fragile.
Bang!
A sudden, dull thud interrupted Louisa's thoughts.
A smoke grenade was thrown in through the tavern window. Almost instantly, choking, pale-white smoke filled the room.
The Confidential Division often kept such gadgets for creating chaos, used to escape in critical moments or confuse enemies. Vivian's standard equipment included more than one.
And disciples of the Six-Eyed Crow liked doing this too, so smoke grenades from Secrets-Hunters always commanded a good price on the black market.
Outside the window, Detreka looked at the smoke-filled interior and gritted her teeth.
That smoke grenade was worth at least 10 Gormouth silver...
She just wanted to see if the Abyssal Sea Tavern's info broker had anything new, never expected to run into this situation... That hunter uncle seemed already insane, would she get cut down if she went to save him?
As a seasoned opportunist in Foy, experience told her she had done her best; the rest was up to that guy's fate.
A few minutes earlier, when the conflict began, Detreka had already contacted "Vivian" through the spiritual link of that crow feather.
Hopefully, she could hurry over...
Just then, Bartley burst through the window, charging from the smoke onto the street. Although covered in wounds, his aura was still wild and fierce.
He actually knew to run even in that state?
Detreka was surprised, but she soon realized... this hunter was heading straight for her!
The thief panicked and could only start running at full speed.
The gruesome fate of those assassins was still fresh in her mind; she didn't want to be chopped in half...
After running for a bit, she suddenly realized she could lead this hunter to a safe place this way. The prerequisite was not getting caught—otherwise, with her physique, a single slash would be enough for her to start thinking about where she'd be buried.
---
The choking pale smoke gradually dissipated. Several hired assassins, cursing, could finally see each other clearly.
"That guy took at least five or six stabs, how does he still have so much strength? He's tougher than a bull shark."
"Lost nearly ten brothers this time, gotta make that old hag pay more..."
As they spoke, a pirate's expression turned bewildered.
At some point... the black-robed Louisa had disappeared. Faint struggling marks were visible on the ground, like scratches from insectoid limbs.
Also left there was a blood-stained crow feather with fine down.
---
Outside the Abyssal Sea Tavern, in a dark, lightless alley.
Fran's figure was hidden in the shadows, carefully comforting the raven Munin perched on her shoulder.
Due to Detreka's emergency contact, it had to leave in the middle of its sleep for night shift. And after it was over, it had another feather plucked... This left it looking quite listless, requiring considerable coaxing to soothe.
Simultaneously, Fran had already extended the Chimera Spine "Sphinx"'s steel tailbone.
One could see that within the distinct, knuckled black tailbone was coiled a hunched, black-robed woman... It was Louisa.
---
Snap.
Fran snapped her fingers. Amid surging grey mist, she had taken Louisa to the Fog Street.
Of course, the doctor didn't intend to return to the clinic right now; she just needed a place for interrogation.
"You... who are you?"
Looking at this street overflowing with mist, Louisa clearly panicked.
She could feel that this hazy grey-white mist obscured all her spirituality and senses. It was as if she had been swallowed into the maw of some unspeakable monster.
"Me? I'm just a passing doctor."
Fran maintained her usual warm smile, almost as pleasant as a spring breeze, as if diagnosing a mentally unwell patient.
"What do you want? No, what do you want to know? I can tell you everything I know, as long as you let me go..."
Louisa pleaded in a panic, her mandibles beneath the robe making rustling sounds.
"I'm one of the best information brokers in Foy. Whether it's those thieves or the crows of the Confidential Division, they know less than I do. Any secret you want to know, I'll answer truthfully..."
"An exaggerated and clumsy lie."
Fran just laughed it off, paying no further attention.
For a Moth follower, expecting them to honestly bare their soul was undoubtedly foolish.
"[Hound Mimicry] is indeed an interesting secret art, but if used as background music... it's a bit too noisy. Just like no one likes a mosquito buzzing in their ear."
Fran lightly raised her index finger, poking into her ear canal and rubbing.
Even so, she didn't interrupt the other's subtle secret art use. This action genuinely confused Louisa.
Judging by this person's words, she seemed to have some understanding of this art's effect. But why was there no response at all? And that posture, it was like... she was carefully listening?
For Louisa, given enough time, she was confident she could gradually erode the sanity of even a High Priest-ranked disciple and drive them mad. Of course, the prerequisite was the target was restrained, unable to flee or resist.
But this woman dressed as a doctor seemed utterly unconcerned.
What rotten luck. If I'd known I'd run into something like this, I wouldn't have acted during the full moon...
"Oh, right, Ms. Louisa, before officially beginning treatment, I need to ask you a few questions. Both to understand the condition and as payment for this house call."
Fran's voice drifted over, interrupting Louisa's thoughts.
"...Ask away."
After a moment of silence, this Moth disciple chose to play along for now.
Fran wasn't concerned about her true attitude. As an excellent psychologist, what kind of patient hadn't she seen?
"What is so special about the full moon in Gormouth? I don't sense much effect on the spiritual level, but why is everyone so fixated on it?"
"This..."
Louisa licked her mandibles beneath the robe, weighing her words.
"For the Abyssal nations, the full moon is a curse. Every time the lunar phase completes a cycle, those things from the sea come ashore... wantonly devouring all flesh and living things in sight."
"And there are also some people who, heeding the call of the Abyss, are drawn into the sea, ultimately becoming sacrifices for the 'Abyssal Well.'"
Fran raised a delicate eyebrow slightly, seeming unsatisfied with this answer.
She had already heard a similar version of this folktale from the carriage driver on the way to the Dreamslumber Flowers Hotel. Apart from slight variations in the version and description, there was almost no difference in information.
+++
T/N: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter and want to support my work, I have a Patreon!
[email protected]/PeakTL