While I was chanting a curse, the system said I was Xiao Yan?

Tianyan stood not far away, looking at the charred mass, and stroked his chin. He couldn't understand how that harmless ball of pink fire could have caused such an effect.

So there's only one truth!

It must be the old man's technique that's working!

That is indeed the case.

When facing a sorcerer, the pink flame will first burn away the sorcery power and then arouse desire. The "reversal of strength" judgment mechanism depends on the magnitude of the attack's "destructive power".

The physical destructive power of the powder fire is almost zero.

Therefore, in Arisaka Jiro's spell judgment, Pink Fire is classified as a "weak attack".

However, under the rule of "weak attack", the effect of "weak attack" will be amplified!

Arisaka Jiro essentially used his own epic-level technique to amplify the Pink Flame, resulting in his own death by burning!

Having figured everything out, Tianyan sighed, "Uncle, it seems it wasn't me who harmed you, but your technique!"

......

The back gate of the Panxing Sect's headquarters.

It was an inconspicuous alleyway, with high walls on both sides, and the sky overhead was cut into a thin line. The alley was dark, with no sunlight, and the air was filled with a damp, musty smell.

Fuheishen was wearing a black short-sleeved shirt and flip-flops, with his hands in his pockets, looking as relaxed as if he were on vacation at the beach.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, his flip-flops making a "pat-pat" sound on the cement ground, echoing through the quiet alley.

His face was expressionless, and the scar at the corner of his mouth looked somewhat menacing in the dim light. His gaze lazily lingered at the end of the alley, as if he were admiring the scenery, or perhaps not looking at anything at all.

His mind was still replaying what had just happened at the casino.

......

A few hours ago.

The pinball hall next to the racetrack was filled with smoke and noise.

Shen sat in front of a pinball machine, the basket in front of him piled with small steel balls, but he wasn't looking at the machine. Instead, he tilted his head and listened to the middleman in a suit next to him.

A contact person for the Cursed Ones Bounty Website, a broker who moves between the dark worlds.

"When does the 100 million bounty you mentioned end?" Shen'er's voice was low and hoarse, with his usual languidness.

"The deadline is midnight tonight."

The broker pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses: "The poster initially offered a public reward, but later changed it to be visible only to the college, I don't know why."

"But what I heard from inside sources is that not many curse masters take on this task."

He paused, glancing at Shen'er's expressionless face: "After all, offering a bounty of 100 million for a non-magician group is outrageously high. Anyone with eyes can see there's something fishy going on."

Shen Er paused for a moment, then grabbed a handful of balls from the small ball bearing basket and casually tossed them into the machine.

"What happened to the 30 million task I posted? What's the status now?"

"Astral assassination mission?"

The broker's expression became somewhat subtle: "I heard that someone has already made a move, but they were stopped by the people from the high school. The young master of the Gojo family and that Natsuyuki who practices spirit manipulation are both protecting that girl. If it's a head-on confrontation..."

He shook his head and didn't continue.

Shen Er was silent for a moment, then the corners of his mouth slowly curved up.

"Just as I expected, that 30 million task is now basically impossible for anyone to complete; those people can only serve as a drain on resources."

Did you anticipate this beforehand?

Shen Er nodded: "When Gojo Satoru combines his six eyes with his limitless techniques, there are... honestly, almost no one who can break through his defenses."

The broker glanced at him: "That 'almost' probably doesn't include you, right?"

Shen Er smiled slightly: "Who knows?"

Then he turned to the broker and asked, "If the Panxing Sect is destroyed, will I still be able to get the remaining payment besides the 30 million deposit?"

The broker's expression became even more subtle.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke, lowering his voice slightly: "This... I'm not sure either."

He adjusted his glasses, carefully choosing his words: "Your bounty isn't offered through a website. According to the rules of bounty websites, the person who posts the bounty pays all the money in advance, and the final payment is issued from the website's account."

The Panxing Cult is currently under a 100 million bounty for its destruction. If their organization is truly dismantled, there will be no "Panxing Cult" entity to pay the remaining balance. Therefore, if the Panxing Cult is destroyed... the remaining balance will be lost.

Shen Er curled her lip slightly: "So you mean, I might have worked for nothing?"

The broker nodded, not denying it.

Shen Er fell silent.

A calculating glint flashed in his lazy eyes, as if he were rapidly calculating in his mind.

With the final payment of 30 million, plus the deposit that had already been received, the total reward for the assassination of the Starmash is considered a huge sum in the underworld.

But if the Panxing Cult is destroyed, the final payment will not be received.

If he does nothing, the money will slip through his fingers like water evaporating.

He could choose to protect the Panxing Cult.

The problem is, no one is paying him to protect the Panxing Cult.

His principle is simple: he won't do anything that doesn't benefit him.

The Panxing Cult didn't give him money to protect them, so there was nothing worth protecting.

......

In the alley.

He then pulled himself out of his thoughts and focused his gaze back on what lay ahead.

Then he stopped.

At the end of the alley, two people stood.

One old and one young.

The old woman was short and hunched over, wearing a faded gray robe. Her hair was gray, and the wrinkles on her face resembled a cracked riverbed. Her eyes were small but bright, like two polished pebbles, and she was staring at Shen Er with a scrutinizing yet wary gaze.

Standing next to her was a young man, about twenty years old, wearing a loose white short-sleeved shirt and black trousers, with sneakers on his feet. He was well-built, with muscle lines faintly visible under the thin fabric. He had an ordinary appearance, but his eyes were deep and stagnant, like a pool of still water.

Shen'er's gaze swept over the two of them, lingered for less than half a second, then he looked away and continued walking forward.

The slapping sound of flip-flops continued to echo through the alley.

The old woman's eyelid twitched.

She sensed that the man possessed no magical power.

It wasn't hidden, it wasn't suppressed; it was simply pure, thorough, and completely devoid of any magical power. Like a stone, a tree, an ordinary person.

Her brows furrowed.

"etc."

Her voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against sheet metal: "Who are you?"

Shen Er's steps did not stop.

"Are you a member of the Panxing Cult?" The old woman's voice rose a few decibels, carrying an unquestionable tone.

Shen Er's steps did not stop.

His face was expressionless, and he didn't even glance at the two people. His gaze was fixed on the depths of the alley, as if he were walking on an ordinary road.

The old woman's face darkened, and her voice turned cold.

"I'm asking you a question, kid!"