Six-Armed Serpent Demon

Page 106

"Please."

So the red assassin slowly stood up, flexing his numb knees, and turned to face the enormous six-armed serpent demon.

When he felt the "anti-magic field" enveloping him and saw the six swords in her hands shimmering with magical light, he held his breath for a moment.

He was only glad that he had knelt down quickly enough.

Ivy Beatt watched coldly as Patrick struggled to lift his eyelids with one hand and remove what looked like a contact lens.

He put it in his pocket.

“Oh, the inner lens for identifying magic, I have to take it out beforehand,” he noticed her puzzled look and explained, “so that when you condescend to beat me up, I won’t have my eyeballs pierced by this thing.”

Ivy Béart nodded, very satisfied with his meticulous and pragmatic attitude.

The next second, the giant snake's body flew close to the ground and coiled around Patrick's feet.

Just like in the movies of his past life, where the Hulk beat Loki, the snake's tail swung around the red assassin, smashing him to the floor from left and right.

Chapter 123 Troll Shbarak

Patrick was covered in red marks, and at least half of his bones were broken.

He struggled to support his body with his single arm and turned over to sit in a corner of the living room.

He had already been thrown out of the "anti-magic field" by Ivy-Beate, but all the magical items on his body had been taken by Ivy-Beate.

Moreover, once outside the "anti-magic field," the "Crimson Kiss" sword-testing effect was revealed.

Ivy Beate not only chopped off his right hand, but later, when she was in high spirits while beating him, she also stabbed him three times in the buttocks and thighs.

Patrick lost thirteen life levels from those four blows, leaving him feeling both weak and fortunate.

He's already incredibly lucky to be alive.

Of course, even so, Patrick still carried several magical items that he could use, including two powerful ones, as well as a "Door to Anywhere" and a "Dimensional Jump" for escaping.

But he didn't dare to act rashly.

"Anti-magic field" is extremely dangerous for spellcasters.

A six-armed serpent demon that can activate an "anti-magic field" at any time, possesses "biological positioning" skills, and can instantly cast "advanced teleportation" is not just terrifying; it's utterly hopeless.

We can't beat them, we can't fight them, and we can't run away.

Patrick reached into his mouth and pulled out two teeth that had come loose from the fall, spitting blood onto the ground beside him.

Don't be fooled by the fact that this demon is gleefully searching him for the magical items it has confiscated, not even glancing at him, completely ready to let him slip away.

But she has the ability to hunt him down to the ends of the earth.

Patrick was certain that she was just waiting for him to use magic to escape.

No matter what method he uses or which direction he runs to escape, the next instant, this demon will teleport to his side using an "anti-magic field" and deliver a passionate sword strike—no, a slash.

He was certain that what would be slashed at him then would be the "Crimson Kiss" he had just surrendered.

That's what makes it humorous.

If he were her, he would definitely do it this way.

Just then, Ivy Beatrice pulled out half a bottle of healing potion and tossed it into his arms. Her loot search was essentially complete.

Patrick eagerly poured the medicine into his mouth before saying in a hoarse voice, "Thank you very much."

The massive blood loss caused him to lick his lips constantly, and his throat was so dry that he could barely speak.

He fully expected her to ask about Zaire, but to his surprise, the six-armed serpent demon's first words were: "You used it to make the orb, didn't you?"

She raised the crimson recurve knife and stared at its blade.

"The moment you left the anti-magic field, I felt it. You were injured by it, and your life force was absorbed into this red blade, and... it was as if I could call it up at any time."

The so-called "life level" is, in the terms of the game from the previous life, "level" or "health bar".

But Ivy Beatrice truly felt the soul power within the legendary weapon. This soul power came from the few blows she had just delivered to Patrick.

What intrigued her was that the soul power within the blade was incredibly pure. Compared to the souls she had previously absorbed, it had been stripped of all impurities—memories, emotions, and so on—leaving only the purest energy.

"Yes."

Patrick said weakly, “First, I used it to gather enough souls. Then, uh, I used the secret method taught to me by my master. Using the power it provided, I shaped this energy and created the treasure…”

He couldn't speak anymore.

Patrick stared in disbelief as Ivy Beatrice gently inhaled at the recurve blade. The energy he couldn't control without using the secret techniques it had taught him vanished, transforming into a pale red glow that she absorbed completely.

“No wonder Zaire wanted to capture you alive,” he whispered. “This ability, it’s almost at that level… that’s an ability at its level…”

He no longer dares to call "Hyslatti" by his name.

"Speaking of which, Mr. Patrick, you've been quite honest. You've been sitting quietly to the side waiting for my questions, and you haven't even used any magic to escape."

She gave a sarcastic smile.

"Let me guess... You probably think I'll let you escape and then take the opportunity to teach you a lesson so you'll confess more honestly—you smug fool, do you think you know me well?"

“No, that was,” he said, his voice hoarse with cold sweat, “that was the excuse I used to convince myself not to run away… I just… didn’t dare to run away.”

The emerald green vertical pupils stared intently at Patrick, making him hold his breath.

Ten seconds, or even half a minute later?

Her voice reached his ears.

“You were right not to run away,” Ivy Beatrice said calmly, “otherwise I would have killed you.”

—For some reason, I'm still not used to killing people who wholeheartedly surrender.

So I'm also waiting for you to convince me, to give me an excuse to kill you.

"There's a small problem with the intelligence regarding Zaire."

Patrick quickly said, “I was once employed by him and discovered some information. But to maintain secrecy, I extracted it all from my memory and stored it in a secret location. Then I rewrote my memory. I handle important intelligence this way.”

Ivy Beattie blinked, surprised that such a thing could happen.

“You’ve really opened my eyes,” she said. “So interrogating you is useless, and no one can get information by killing you?”

Patrick smiled, his face pale.

"I specialize in doing dirty work for others, and too many people have tried to kill me to silence me."

Ivy Beatrice asked curiously, "Aren't you afraid that someone will interrogate you to find out where your memories are, and then kill you to silence you?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she had asked a stupid question.

Patrick, of course, had other ways to ensure that this wouldn't happen.

“Don’t forget, I’ve rewoven my memories, and I don’t even know where I’ve hidden them. But I have a friend, hey, don’t look at me like that,” Patrick shrugged. “Please trust him a little. Even scum can have a few close friends, right?”

"You're right, please continue."

“I can let you go to my friend. He will ask you a few questions. After you truthfully answer how you got the information out of me, he will give you the memory data you want. Even if you tell him that you beat me up and tortured me to get it out, it doesn’t matter.”

“Interesting,” Ivy Beatrice said, “but how can you be sure I won’t kill you after finding out where your brother is, then go and lie to or kill your friend to steal his memories?”

Patrick smiled.

“He has a magical artifact that holds a small portion of my life force,” he said. “It allows my friend to sense my condition, no matter where I am, even if we're not in the same plane. If something happens to me, if I die, or if I'm captured or imprisoned, he can immediately sense it, then hide until he senses that I've returned to normal, at which point he will reappear.”

"As for deceiving or killing him... is it necessary? As long as I'm alright, you can get it; if something happens to me, you won't be able to find him."

Ivy Beattie tilted her head and looked at Patrick.

Patrick felt a chill run down his spine.

Despite her striking beauty, she was still a beautiful demon.

"Where is your friend?" she asked. "What's his name?"

“In its territory,” Patrick said, “across the sea, in the city of Hesconti, ruled by the two-headed dragon. Go to Hesconti, find a bar with three boots hanging outside, go in and order ten full glasses of milk. As long as I am safe and sound then, Shibaragu will naturally appear to see you.”

"Shibalagu?"

Ivy Beatrice noted down the name, feeling it sounded vaguely familiar. "What does he look like?"

“I don’t know,” Patrick said matter-of-factly. “I have a vague memory of him being a troll. But I suspect it’s a fabricated memory, to prevent anyone from using bio-location to locate him in his true form and launch a surprise attack. Anyway, I’ve tried bio-location myself, and I couldn’t find him.”

His emerald green vertical pupils widened in surprise.

The lie detector gadget she pulled from Patrick's dimensional bag told her that this guy was telling the whole truth. This made Ivy Beatrice both curious and amused: "Wow, you really are airtight."

"Thank you for the compliment."

Patrick struggled to prop himself up with one hand and stand up.

"In our line of work, we always have to keep something in reserve."

The medicine had already taken effect. Although he had lost an arm and about ten teeth, he could at least walk without any problems.

—This time we really lost a lot of money.

Patrick endured the pain of his severed hand and lamented inwardly.

Fortunately, he always had several hiding places and could find some restorative medicine. Otherwise, with his current physical resilience of less than three life levels, by tomorrow, the life level severed by the "Crimson Kiss" would be irrecoverable.

Patrick politely asked, "If you have no further instructions, may I take my leave?"

"Please."

Ivy Beatrice said casually, "Take these two bags of wet garbage with you when you leave. Your dragon overseer, and this, the damn old man who picks up poop."

Chapter 124 Similar

With a loud "crack," the living room sofa collapsed as the six-armed snake demon Ivy Beate sat on it.

After all, the lower half of the giant snake body was a few thousand pounds heavier.

She curled up her serpentine body, her graceful human form lounging lazily against the dilapidated sofa, watching with amusement as Patrick went to the kitchen to find a rope. He returned and tied the two ends of the rope to the feet of the old supervisor's corpse and the unconscious dragon overseer, respectively.

Patrick struggled to drag the two of them along, stopping after a couple of steps, panting heavily.

Looking at the living room door in front of him, he knew he couldn't get out on his own.

“Why don’t we just wake him up?” Ivy Beatrice said, deliberately raising her voice, not afraid of waking him up at all. “Wouldn’t it be easier for two living people to carry a dead man than this?”

Patrick looked distressed.

“I’m now a member of the city’s Inquisition,” he said. “You know, for a heretic like me with a criminal record, life in the Inquisition is practically like being in prison. When I’m out, I have to be accompanied by a supervisor, and I have to report everything I do. If he sees you, this devil…”

He looked into Ivy Beatrice's playful, emerald-green vertical pupils and couldn't continue his story.

“Damn it,” Patrick sighed. “I forgot, you now have the ability to detect thoughts, and before you used that magic to manipulate us.”

Ivy Beatrice rolled her eyes at him.

“You haven’t forgotten,” she said. “You were just testing whether I could really read your mind and judge the truthfulness of what you just confessed.”

Patrick gave an awkward smile.

Ivy Beatrice suddenly flashed a beautiful smile, a smile that was both mysterious and cruel: "But you've also guessed some things wrong, about our deal just now."

Patrick's expression stiffened slightly.

"They say the devil's ideas change quickly, but I really didn't expect it to be this fast. But—"

Before he could finish speaking, his eyes widened in horror.

The six-armed snake demon Ivy Beate held his severed arm in one hand, tossing it up and down and catching it again.

Her body then changed.

The six-armed serpent demon was shrinking. Its lower serpentine body split into two legs, its long, fiery red hair shortened and turned black, and its skin changed from white jade to a weathered reddish-brown. Its massive breasts became flat muscles. The contours of its face also changed drastically, and sparse stubble grew on it.

In a matter of seconds, the six-armed snake demon on the sofa wreckage transformed into a naked man with a perpetually warm, fake smile on his face.

“You don’t actually think,” the man on the sofa said, “that I cut off your hand just for fun, do you?”

Patrick swallowed hard.

This image, this face, this aura… he was all too familiar with it; he saw it every time he looked in the mirror.

Patrick glanced down and his heart sank.

—Damn it, even the mole on my thing is the same.

"There's no need to play the 'spot the difference' game with two paintings anymore."