Chapter 46: Immune to Physical Damage? Let's Test That.
Edward looked at the monster that "bounced" off the ground and casually plucked a bullet from his chest, completely unsurprised.
He'd known for a while that conventional firearms were like water guns against things like this.
"Interesting."
Edward's mind was calm. He almost wanted to laugh.
He'd transmigrated to this nightmare world of horror, encountering either physically powerful psychos like Jason or mentally unstable freaks like hillbilly cannibals. Dangerous, sure, but still within a comprehensible range.
But Art the Clown standing before him—besides Dorothy—was an enemy that made him feel truly "beyond the rules."
"BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!"
Edward was done with testing.
He raised both arms, and Ebony and Ivory carved elegant arcs through the air, muzzle flashes strobing continuously.
The advantage of infinite ammo was fully on display. A dense storm of bullets formed a metallic hurricane, covering every vital point on Art's body.
The rounds precisely tore through the air, drilling into Art's head, heart, and limbs.
Every bullet carried tremendous kinetic energy, forcing Art to stagger backward. Black blood erupted from his body, and his ridiculous black and white costume became Swiss cheese.
Tara, bound to the chair, and Dawn, hanging upside down, were completely stunned.
Their minds couldn't process the scene unfolding before them—it defied all logic.
A murderous horror clown and a young guy who suddenly appeared, dual-wielding pistols like some kind of action movie hero—this was more insane and surreal than any horror film they'd ever seen.
Under the suppression of gunfire, Art's tall frame, like a broken puppet, finally fell backward with a heavy thud, once again hitting the ground.
This time, he'd been hit by at least dozens of rounds. Half his head was blown off, revealing a black, tar-like substance underneath.
However, Edward still didn't lower his pistols.
Sure enough.
The silence lasted less than three seconds.
The "corpse" on the ground began to writhe unnaturally again. His half-destroyed head, like melting wax, slowly and impossibly reassembled.
The bullet holes in his body were also filled with black substance at visible speed.
Then he once again stood up stiffly yet smoothly, in a posture that defied human biology.
He tilted his head, seemingly curious about the changes in his own body.
He extended a finger, poked his newly healed face, then refocused his empty gaze on Edward.
The painted grin on his face stretched even wider, as if silently mocking Edward's futile efforts.
"Physical damage... basically useless?" Edward assessed internally. "Or rather, his form of existence has transcended pure physicality."
Just as Edward was analyzing, Art seemed to lose interest in this "new toy" that wouldn't break.
He suddenly turned his head, his hollow stare falling once again on the two girls who were now too terrified to even scream.
For Art, tormenting these helpless victims was his true pleasure.
He ignored Edward and pulled out a new "toy" from the black garbage bag.
It was a rusty bone saw, with dark red, unidentifiable debris still clinging to its teeth.
He hefted the bone saw, taking his eerie, jerking steps, and walked back toward Dawn, who hung upside down.
He wanted to finish his interrupted "masterpiece."
"Did I say you could move?"
A cold voice came from behind Art.
Art instinctively turned his head.
What met him was a fist carrying immense power.
[Ox Talisman - Activated]
Wild, overwhelming force surged through Edward's limbs, his muscles subtly expanding, filled with explosive strength.
He took one step, and a tiny crack appeared in the concrete floor beneath his boot. He shot forward like a missile, instantly covering over thirty feet, appearing behind Art.
Edward held nothing back with this punch, landing it squarely on Art's spine.
"THOOM—!"
A deep, resonant impact, like a wrecking ball hitting a steel door.
Art's tall frame, before the immense power blessed by the Ox Talisman, was as fragile as tissue paper.
He instantly doubled over, his body launched off the ground like a baseball hit for a home run, arcing through the air and slamming heavily into the corrugated metal wall of a shipping container at the far end of the warehouse.
"CRASH!"
The thick metal wall was forcibly dented into a massive human-shaped crater, and the surrounding steel structure groaned and buckled.
Art was "plastered" against the wall like a poster, then slowly peeled off, falling to the ground in a cloud of dust.
Inside the warehouse, both girls stopped breathing.
They stared at Edward—this guy who looked about their age but now radiated terrifying, overwhelming power.
Edward shook out his hand, knuckles cracking sharply.
He didn't stop.
The best way to deal with an unkillable monster was to make sure it never got up again.
He charged forward once more, unleashing a brutal assault on Art, who'd just crumpled to the ground.
"WHAM! CRACK! BOOM!"
Every punch carried the tremendous power of the Ox Talisman.
Every kick could shatter steel plates.
Edward had no wasted movements—it was pure, primitive, brutal violence. He grabbed Art's head and slammed it into the ground repeatedly.
The hard concrete floor was pounded into crater after crater, debris flying everywhere.
Art's body, before this absolute power, was completely torn apart and demolished. His arms were twisted into impossible angles, his legs were forcibly snapped, and his entire chest was caved in.
Black, viscous ichor splattered everywhere. Edward's clothes and face were covered in this cold, foul-smelling liquid.
This wasn't a battle anymore—it was a one-sided, savage beatdown.
However, Edward's expression grew increasingly grim.
Because he could feel that no matter how thoroughly he destroyed this "body," the sensation in his hands remained unchanged.
No feeling of bones shattering, no feedback of muscles tearing. It was like beating a lump of tough rubber molded into human shape.
Most terrifying was that no matter how damaged his body became, that disturbing grin on Art's face never changed.
Finally, Edward... stopped his assault.
Before him was an unrecognizable pile of torn fabric and black goo.
Edward took a breath, his Pure Yang Body rapidly restoring his stamina.
He looked down at the puddle of ichor, his brow furrowed deeply.
"It's not done yet."
Sure enough, the puddle began to squirm. The severed limbs and shattered tissue, as if controlled by invisible strings, began to reassemble and merge.
Edward didn't give it time to reform. He had more important priorities.
He turned around and looked at the two girls.
With a thought—"SNAP! SNAP!"
The ropes binding Tara and the chains suspending Dawn broke apart.
Dawn fell from midair, and Edward cushioned her with gentle telekinesis, allowing her to land safely on the ground.
Both girls were still in extreme shock. Tara slumped in her chair, while Dawn curled up on the ground, trembling and hugging herself.
"If you want to live, get out of here now. Run as fast as you can and don't look back."
Edward's voice was emotionless.
The two girls snapped out of their stupor, scrambling and crawling toward the warehouse exit.
The overwhelming relief of survival and lingering terror made them discover reserves of speed they never knew they had.
Edward didn't watch them leave. His full attention was focused on the "pile of goo" behind him, which was rapidly reassembling.
In less than ten seconds, a perfectly intact Art the Clown once again stood before him.
This time, Art didn't immediately attack.
He just stood there, tilting his head, studying Edward.
The grin was still there, but Edward read something different in it now.
It was "appreciation."
He seemed to be acknowledging Edward as the first person in a long time who could destroy his "physical form" so thoroughly.
Then Art did something unexpected.
He bowed deeply, theatrically, exaggeratedly to Edward.
Like a circus performer thanking the audience for their applause.
After bowing, he straightened up and pulled out a... balloon animal from his garbage bag.
He inflated the balloon, then, like a child, held it up and bounced around in place, even making a silly face at Edward.
This bizarre, absurd, and malicious display brought the terror atmosphere of the entire warehouse to its peak.
"Psychological warfare? Or is he mocking me?"
Edward's eyes went ice-cold.
He was done playing this cat-and-mouse game with this monster.
"Since physical attacks can't destroy you..."
Edward slowly raised his right hand, palm aimed at the clown who was showing off.
"Let's try something different."
In his palm, soft yet pure white light began to gather.
The light wasn't blinding, but it carried a sacred, solemn aura that cleansed all corruption.
Purify.