Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 156 Poison

Stepping out of the tavern, the biting night wind slapped Green across the face like a blow, instantly clearing his head, which had been somewhat dazed by the burning body in his arms.

He was about to put the dancer down from his arms and let her stand there for a while to get some fresh air, which might alleviate her terrible "symptoms".

"No—don't go—" she murmured indistinctly, her hot breath spraying onto his neck.

Her voice scraped against Green's taut nerves.

Green could clearly feel the soft curves and the astonishing heat emanating from them through his clothes. A surge of heat rushed uncontrollably to the top of his head, causing Green to clench his teeth instantly.

"Wake up!" he hissed, trying to rouse her remaining sanity.

However, it had no effect.

The dancer seemed to have completely fallen into lust.

"Hiss—" Green shook his head violently, forcing himself to focus his attention on the muddy street and the dim gas streetlights in front of him.

"Calm down, now is not the time to do it—"

"This distance—is still within the range," he muttered to himself, assessing the radius of the Pleasure Witch's power.

The tavern entrance was clearly not safe enough; the witch hiding in the shadows might still be watching this "drama" through one of the windows.

We can't stop; we must move further away.

Without further hesitation, he half-dragged and half-carried the dancer, who was practically clinging to him, to the hitching post.

The black horse snorted uneasily, seemingly sensing the unusual tension on its master and the strange aura emanating from the unfamiliar woman.

"It's okay, don't worry."

Green offered a brief reassurance, gripping the dancer's waist tightly with one hand to prevent her from slipping, while deftly untying the reins with the other.

His movements as he mounted the horse were slightly clumsy because of the person in his arms, but he eventually managed to sit firmly on the horse.

He positioned the dancer in front of him, almost sitting sideways on the saddle, her back against his chest. This position brought her even closer to him, her arms naturally encircling his waist, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her hot breath and intermittent moans penetrating his ears and collar.

Green spurred his horse, and the black horse immediately trotted along the dimly lit street towards the outskirts of the city.

The bumpy ride on horseback became a new source of torment.

She seemed to have completely lost control, instinctively seeking ways to relieve the heat in her body.

Green gritted his teeth to suppress the muffled groan that was about to escape his throat.

One hand gripped the reins, while the other had to press firmly on the dancer's shoulder, both to hold her still and to try to control her deadly writhing.

"Hiss—Damn it!" After another violent jolt, Green couldn't help but squeeze out a curse through his teeth.

He shook his head sharply again, letting the cold night wind rush into his collar.

"Stay calm, Green, stay calm—" he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse. At the same time, he kept estimating the range of abilities of the extraordinary being hidden in the darkness.

He tried to recall the dry occult knowledge, the horrors of witches recorded by Lillian, and the key materials he needed to advance to "Master of Tricks"—anything that could distract him and extinguish the evil fire in his heart.

However, the vibrant, hot body in his arms, constantly teasing him, and the moans in his ears were far more powerful than any rational thought.

Green's heart pounded wildly, his blood boiled with rage at the witch of pleasure who was lurking in the shadows and manipulating everything.

Just then, the dancer, her eyes glazed over, adjusted her posture without anyone noticing.

She had been sitting sideways, but now she was almost completely turned around, straddling Green in front of her. This was an extremely dangerous and difficult maneuver on the bumpy horse, but her body, driven by desire, was unusually agile.

Green felt a sudden weight in his arms, and then a pair of burning hands began to tug at him haphazardly.

The rough fabric rubbed against his skin, and the faint sound of buttons popping open was almost inaudible amidst his rapid breathing and the sound of horses' hooves, but the sudden gust of cold night wind sent a shiver down his spine.

Green tried to grab her unruly wrist.

However, the dancer completely ignored his attempts to stop her, or rather, at that moment, all that remained in her "consciousness" was her instinctive needs.

She wrapped herself around him like a vine, her burning cheeks pressed against his bare chest, and her lips haphazardly pressed down with scorching kisses.

This sudden change almost made Green lose his grip on the reins.

The black horse seemed to sense the unusual movement on its back, and it quickened its pace uneasily, making the ride even more bumpy.

This increased turbulence seemed to suit the dancer's wishes perfectly.

She clung tightly to Green, writhing in his arms.

"Hug me—" she pleaded indistinctly.

Green gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, sweat dripping down his face.

Reason screamed at him, warning him that this was a trap, a poison, the most vicious toy of the pleasure witch.

The cold night wind couldn't extinguish the flames burning within; instead, it made their skin feel even hotter. The lights of the distant town had long since disappeared behind them, and all around was a dark wilderness, with only the sound of hooves, the wind, and panting and writhing.

He pulled hard on the reins, and the black horse neighed, reared up on its front hooves, almost standing on its own two feet, and then slammed its hind legs to a stop.

The inertia caused the two people, who were pressed tightly together, to collide even more closely.

Green was breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He looked down at the woman buried in his chest.

Her messy long hair was stuck to her cheeks and neck with sweat, revealing her skin.

She tilted her head back, her eyes glazed, her lips slightly parted, exhaling hot breath, her face showing pain and longing.

This scene is enough to break the rationality of any normal man.

Green's pupils contracted, a fierce struggle between reason and desire raging deep within his eyes. He raised his hand, seemingly wanting to push her away, yet also wanting to hold her tighter.

He abruptly closed his eyes, withdrawing all his remaining willpower from resisting his body's reactions and the onslaught of his senses, retreating like the receding tide into the deepest recesses of his consciousness, pondering how to cope.

The Witch of Pleasure's power is not simply a matter of regional influence. She may very well have planted a seed of "desire" in the dancer's heart, or perhaps in herself, during a drink or some other encounter in the tavern.

As long as the seed continues to "burn" and remains within the range of spiritual resonance she can guide, this burning flame will not be extinguished. Being far from the town is merely a physical distance; as long as one remains within the range of her "spiritual strings," one remains her puppet.

"Extinguish the flames—or, make the string lose sight of its target—make the target disappear temporarily?"

'

A thought flashed through his nearly chaotic mind like lightning.

Just as even the worst magician can make an object "appear" to disappear using a mirror or a black cloth.

He can draw power from the fool to create a temporary "cognitive blind spot" or "connection misalignment" on a spiritual level.

However, his own sequence is clearly not equal to that of the opponent, and he cannot fight against them on his own; in fact, it may backfire.

"The goddess of night has the power of tranquility, and may be able to soothe—but the fool seems to be closer to himself, and may be able to extricate himself without disturbing the other—"

The connection between "The Fool" and "Source Castle" is closer; that "hidden" power might offer a temporary shield.

But this is equally dangerous.

Asking for help from a fool is like actively tying a thicker, more unpredictable "thread" back onto yourself, without knowing what unforeseen events might occur.

Seeking secrecy might temporarily shield the Pleasure Witch's senses, but who can guarantee that it won't attract the gaze of even more profound eyes?

Choosing between two evils —

No, there's no time to weigh the options.

Ultimately, he chose the Fool because he felt closer to the Fool and the price of seeking power should be relatively lower, even though he had already joined the Church of the Night.

"A fool who does not belong to this era, a mysterious ruler above the gray fog, the king of yellow and black who wields good fortune —"

"I pray for a little distance," I pray that your kingdom casts a tiny shadow, temporarily obscuring the connection between me and another gaze, so that the melody that stirs desire may—be out of tune at this moment.

""

Green did not pray for a power struggle, nor did he pray for the direct erasure of the seed, as that was beyond the scope of the "cost" he could bear.

He only prayed for an "error," a "misalignment," a temporary interference effect that naturally exists between the higher level of the "Source Castle" and the lower level of spiritual connection.

This is more like a clever trick, using the subtle spiritual disturbances and personality suppression that inevitably accompany prayer to a higher being to create the "blind spot" he wants.

The moment the prayer was completed, Green felt his spirituality plummet like a stone thrown into a deep well, swallowed by an endless, silent gray mist. There was no direct feedback, no clear infusion of power.

But then—

An indescribable change has occurred.

It is neither a change in the surrounding environment nor a decrease in the body's desires.

Rather, it's a more subtle, more essential feeling.

The "spiritual string" that had been invisibly pulsating with a burning sensation seemed to be suddenly enveloped by a very thin, flowing gray veil.

The string still exists, and the plucking doesn't seem to stop, but the transmitted "waves" undergo strange refraction and attenuation.

It's like looking at a flame underwater through the rippling surface of water; the flame remains, but its shape is distorted and its heat is blurred.

The dancer's body stiffened abruptly.

The almost overflowing, inhuman gleam of longing in her eyes momentarily blurred and became confused.

The tight embrace around Green's body loosened for a fleeting, extremely slight moment.

The burning flames did not go out, but the momentum of the fire slowed down, changing from an explosive burst to a more unstable and natural heat. It was still unbearable, but the eerie smell that had been forcibly ignited and precisely controlled faded away.

It's now!

Green seized the precious moment that the prayer brought, a moment that might only last a few seconds, and unleashed all his willpower and remaining strength.

Instead of gently pushing the dancer away, he roughly and forcefully pulled her off him, making her sit sideways in front of him and tightly gripping her waist with a steel-like arm, fixing her limp and struggling body in place.

At the same time, he used his other free hand to yank the reins hard and squeezed the horse's belly with both legs.

The black horse, in pain, reared up and galloped away again. But this time, Green was no longer steering it into the blind wilderness.

Green's gaze sharpened as he swept across the rugged ground illuminated by starlight.

The prayer and brief interruption not only gave him a window to act, but also seemed to sharpen his spiritual perception in the lingering gray fog.

He sensed a lingering spiritual energy, calm, cold, and faintly tinged with the aura of death, coming from his left front, about several hundred meters away.

It was an ancient family cemetery, long abandoned, yet retaining a faint sense of peace and tranquility. For the flames of joy, it might not be water, but at least it served as a firebreak!

The horses' hooves thundered as they charged toward the shadowy area surrounded by low, broken stone walls.

The black horse, carrying the two people, suddenly broke through the crooked, rusty iron gate and stepped into the cemetery area.

It felt as if I had passed through an invisible membrane.

The dancer let out a long whimper that sounded like both pain and relief. Her body trembled violently a few times before collapsing completely, falling into a semi-conscious state of heavy breathing, her thin dance dress almost completely soaked with sweat.

Green was also panting heavily, his back already soaked with cold sweat.

"That was close, thank goodness."

For a brief moment, he almost gave up.

The dam of reason teetered before the torrent of desire, and the body's instincts clamored for him to submit and succumb.

If it weren't for that last "interval" when he pleaded with the Fool at the last moment, if it weren't for the "peaceful sleep" concept field remaining in the cemetery that timely cut off the influence—what would he be like now?

Like a beast in heat, copulating in the wilderness with a manipulated stranger, becoming the subject of a pleasure witch's playful spectacle? Or worse, utterly lost in desire, becoming a puppet or nourishment for the witch's path?

Green felt a chill run down his spine.

This wasn't the first time he'd faced the dangers of the extraordinary world, but it was the first time he'd confronted the enemy—his own desires—so directly. Bullets and swords could be dodged or parried, but how could he defend against the flames burning within him?

He reined in his horse and cautiously looked around.

The broken tombstone cast a menacing shadow under the starlight, while owls hooted eerily from a withered tree not far away.

The horse stopped, and Green lifted the dancer off the horse, placing her directly on a relatively flat patch of grass, away from the tombstone. She was still trembling unconsciously, her skin burning hot, her breathing rapid and scalding, but at least the active, deadly entanglement was gone.

Green forced himself to look away, quickly took off his coat, and wrapped it tightly around her.

The Fool's response relieved Green; he had made the right bet.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time."

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