Night Journey

Chapter 170 Bill
Elton was completely stunned, his mouth slightly open, his mind blank.

The warrior before him, sharp and incomparable, exuding a murderous aura, was completely different from the delicate and pampered Meifuni he remembered.

At this moment, Elton realized how absurd it was to have overprotected her for so long, to the point that he had subconsciously forgotten her extraordinary nature.

Before the narrow alley, wherever the ink touched, it was devastating.

The incomparably sharp spear tip pierced precisely through the zombie's rotting chest, drawing out a spurt of viscous, dark fluid and bone fragments.

With a sweeping motion, the gun slammed powerfully into the neck of another zombie. With a cracking sound, the deformed head tilted to one side at an eerie angle.

"Disgusting!"

Mafoni complained as she threw her spear, easily piercing another zombie and pinning it to the wall, the shaft trembling uncontrollably.

More zombies surrounded her, but her movements were not hindered at all. Every dodge, thrust, and sweep was as smooth as if she had practiced it a thousand times.

That composure and precision was far beyond what a novice could possess. It's hard to imagine the arduous training she had undergone in the shadows, unnoticed by anyone.

The energy surged relentlessly, and more ink marks swirled around Meifuni, dancing wildly and turbulently.

Paul and Wensey were completely stunned by what they saw.

At the last gathering, when they learned of Meifuni's noble status, they were so shocked that they were speechless. Now, her image as a young lady has been completely shattered.

At this moment, Maefuni exuded an aura of dignified and unapproachable majesty.

The defeated walkers were like broken dolls, their rotting flesh and bones shattering and disintegrating under the violent force.

Suddenly, a large number of spores gushed out from the zombie's wounds and torso, gathering into a dense smoke like living things, which spread rapidly.

Maefuni's senses were extremely sharp.

The moment the spores spilled out, she reacted instinctively without conscious effort.

Extensive ink marks spread and expanded from her skin, forming a flowing, pitch-black barrier around her, effectively blocking the surging spore smoke.

Meifuni then swung her spear as if splashing paint, the ink spreading outwards, the black barrier rising into a high wall covering the entire narrow alley, pushing the corpses and remaining forces away.

After a series of fluid attacks, not a single intact zombie remained standing in the field, only some bloodstains and futile spore smoke billowing outside the alley.

Meifuni didn't even glance at her own victory. She adjusted her breathing slightly, and the ink marks surrounding her quietly disappeared back into her body like a tide.

Without hesitation, she turned around and, under the incredulous gazes of the crowd, strode into the ink shop and sat down at the bar.

Martin had just finished mixing the drink and smiled as he placed it in front of Mafoni.

She picked up the straw and complained.

"Where did all these monstrous things come from? And what was that explosion just now? Are the evil forces of chaos finally going to attack the city?"

Everyone remained in shock, unable to utter a single word.

"Ugh……"

Meifuni sighed, thinking about it, what could these ordinary people possibly know?

"Oh, what is this!"

She noticed the cake Elton had brought and went over with delighted eyes.

"Hey, isn't this that brand's new product?"

Seeing Meifuni's appearance, their sense of astonishment grew even stronger.

Just as Elton was about to explain that it was a gift for the party, a thud sounded from above them.

Meifuni immediately became alert. Ink stains spilled down her arm, swirling and dancing wildly, condensing into a jet-black dagger more suitable for fighting in confined spaces.

The strange noise approached rapidly, carrying a heavy sense of oppression.

Meifuni could even clearly sense a surging source energy breaking through the air above the ceiling, plummeting down like a meteor.

boom--

The next moment, the ceiling of the ink room was smashed through by a tremendous force.

As rubble and debris rained down and dust filled the air, a figure, carrying immense force, slammed heavily onto the bar below.

Strangely, the bar counter was unusually sturdy, emitting a dull thud that bounced the falling figure away.

The figure tumbled uncontrollably, knocking over several round tables along the path, before finally collapsing limply onto the messy ground, letting out a painful and weak groan.

"Back off!"

Elton almost instinctively growled and yanked Paul and Wensey backward.

God knows whether this creature that fell from the sky carries deadly chaotic contamination.

Meifuni gripped the black dagger tightly, arched her back, lowered her center of gravity, and assumed the most advantageous stance for explosive attacks and parries, locking onto the figure that was gradually becoming clearer in the smoke and dust.

A figure in an extremely disheveled state gradually came into view.

This unfortunate fellow looked as if he had just crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood. His grayish-white wings were draped over his shoulders and soaked in thick blood. His calves were a bloody mess, with blood still gushing out and pooling on the ground.

He gasped for breath, each inhalation sounding like the whine of a broken bellows, and struggled to roll over, exposing his head.

He was wearing a six-eyed winged helmet.

However, the helmet was no longer as imposing as it once was. Two of the three pairs of lenses were broken, leaving only an empty metal frame. A large section of the helmet's side was also cracked, revealing twisted metal fragments. In the shadows, a blurry face could be seen.

"This...this is..."

Wenxi covered her mouth and gasped in surprise.

Paul's voice also changed, filled with the same horror.

"Reverse Falcon?"

They cautiously approached a few steps closer, and when they finally saw the iconic six-eyed winged helmet clearly, their faces showed expressions of utter disbelief.

As one of the very few people who had come into close contact with the Reverse Falcon, they were certain that the unfortunate creature lying before them was indeed the Reverse Falcon.

But... how did he end up here in such a terrible state? And who could have injured this infamous man like this?

Now, recalling the cooing sounds broadcast throughout the city and the continuous explosions... all the clues suddenly connected like cold chains, tightening around Elton's heart.

A chill rushed from the soles of my feet to the top of my head.

Damn it! This is definitely not a coincidence!

Beneath the calm surface of Hull City, the contradictions and undercurrents that had been accumulating for countless years were now being completely ignited, just like a volcano that had been dormant for thousands of years.

"what……"

Amidst painful groans, Cillian regained his senses and, leaning on his chainblade, struggled to his feet.

He blinked, looked around, and saw familiar faces. Suddenly, he felt like he had seen a ghost.

Why are there so many familiar faces? Am I about to die, and this is starting to happen again?

Then I should see more than just them.

An unbearable pain shot through his palm, pulling him back to reality.

Cillian gripped the pocket watch; the hands had reached the dangerous red zone, meaning he had lost at least five minutes of his memory.

"damn it……"

He cursed under his breath, trying to recall what had happened, despite the pain coursing through his body.

Remember……

I remember engaging in a deadly chase with Decal, who relentlessly eroded my cognition and memories with his ubiquitous spores.

Forced into a corner, Cillian kept shifting positions, maintaining distance while searching for an opportunity to counterattack, and then...

At a moment he couldn't recall, his memories were once again triggered by the power of returning to silence, causing him severe injuries, and he fled to this place in a sorry state.

Just as everyone was looking at each other in bewilderment, bartender Martin made his move.

He didn't scold Cillian for breaking through the ceiling and messing up the ink room; he simply used a towel to skillfully wipe the dust off the bar and asked with concern.

"Would you like a drink?"

After saying that, Martin turned around, opened the liquor cabinet, and took out several bottles of liquor that no one had ever seen before.

“This is a healing potion concocted by monks of the Painful Realm. It can clear toxins from the body and accelerate wound healing,” Martin explained, then picked up another bottle. “This one comes from the Purification Society. I remember it can eliminate certain negative effects.”

As he explained, he skillfully mixed several liquids in proportion.

"Finally, add a little bit of the Wanji Tonglu Hospital's sedative. They often use this to relieve pain when performing prosthetic surgery."

After mixing a strangely colored drink, Martin smiled and pushed it to the edge of the bar.

Cillian was silent for a moment, then staggered forward, picked up the wine glass and was about to drink it down when he remembered that he was still wearing the six-eyed winged helmet.

There was no hesitation, nor any deliberate slowness.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, he decisively took off his helmet and placed it next to the bar.

Everyone's hearts jumped, and their gazes shifted from his neck to his face—a blood-stained, disheveled, yet incredibly familiar face came into view.

A profound silence struck everyone; they were speechless, staring at Ciri almost blankly.

Cillian paid no attention to their gazes and tilted his head back to drink the "drink" Martin offered him in one gulp.

The medicine has an immediate effect.

Soon after the liquid entered my throat, the excruciating pain throughout my body quickly subsided, as if a warm furnace had been lit inside me, dispelling the chill and stopping the bleeding.

Martin remained calm, as if he already knew the face beneath the helmet.

"The cost of drinks, the ceiling repair, the replacement of tables and chairs..." He picked up the bill and hurriedly wrote down the various expenses. "How do I pay?"

Cillian pointed bluntly at Maefuni, who was still in a daze beside him.

"Give her the bill."

"Ok."

"what?"

(End of this chapter)