The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

Page 117

It is connected to the spine, resembling an extended rib, or the sharp limbs of some arachnid. Yet, it also possesses a cold, mechanical, and steely texture.

This was Fran's first official use of the chimeric spine "Sphinx," and it was more sensitive than he had imagined.

"Also, when did esoteric Buddhist traps become so old-fashioned and unoriginal? Do they have to put something in tea?"

As he spoke, Fran shook his head, letting out a sigh of exasperation.

She then grinned, revealing her lustrous crimson lips, and opened her mouth... Through the thin gray gauze, one could see the buds and tendrils of the Cistanche deserticola struggling and writhing almost frantically between her pink throat and tongue.

It was clearly the terrifying parasite that was now desperately trying to escape.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Nearly 5k votes, please vote!

Chapter Thirteen: Puppet Solo

Fran reached into the dark gray veil, pinched her index finger and thumb together, and deftly and skillfully removed the clump of tender pink Cistanche deserticola from between her throat and tongue.

Her movements were fluid and graceful, while simultaneously producing a glistening trail of saliva.

Up close, Cistanche deserticola resembles a sea anemone in appearance, with a fleshy, soft texture. Its tangled, overlapping tentacles expand and contract rhythmically, like breathing, in a continuous cycle. It looks like some kind of strange and unconventional flower.

"To be honest, I've always wanted to raise one, but the timing wasn't quite right."

Fran casually took out a small box used to store dangerous items, squeezed the Cistanche deserticola to make it behave, and then stuffed it inside.

Nicholas frowned and took a half step back, his expression uncertain.

The Cistanche deserticola had clearly entered the woman's body, so why hadn't it taken effect? ​​As a second-class superior secret technique, even if it couldn't directly deprive her of her ability to move... it should at least have some effect.

And what exactly is that thing behind her?

The image of the gun muzzle flashing repeatedly flashed through Nicholas's mind. He saw steel-constructed limbs suddenly extend from behind the Hermit Lady, precisely and accurately stopping the bullet.

Damn it, how did this monster appear here, and even get involved with Elsa... Isn't she just an ordinary Lois?

Fran's posture remained elegant, but the sphinx hanging behind her, a grotesque, intricately carved ridge, only evoked terror. The lady in the moth-shaped robe... had now transformed into some kind of monstrous demon.

"Damn it, this is a ghost..."

Guns, who was holding a rifle to the side, spat and unconsciously backed away.

Others might not know what that shot meant, but he knew it all too well. The caliber of the weapon in his hand was no joke; it could kill even large prey like brown bears or reindeer with a single shot.

Fran tilted his head slightly and strolled forward leisurely.

"Why did you stop? Are you thinking about how to escape?"

“Mirror Wiper, are you trying to provoke sectarian conflict? We belong to the Star Abyss Society… which is also a large sect.”

Nicholas felt immense pressure looming, so much so that he felt compelled to say something to alleviate it.

"Oh?"

Upon hearing this, Fran raised his hand to cover his mouth, as if he was amused by the other person's humor.

"It seems I wasn't the one who started this conflict. Besides, Cistanche deserticola comes from the Crimson Cup Sect, so how do you explain that? Why don't we wait here for the Hunters to arrive and see who they believe?"

Just then, Guns, the gatekeeper who had already become apprehensive, suddenly bent down and slapped his hand on the wooden floor of the tavern's private room.

The third type of superior secret technique: [Creating Doors].

The ground that was touched immediately began to crack like blocks, turning into a "door" that people could pass through.

But just as he was about to fall to the lower level, his body suddenly stopped in mid-air and ceased to fall.

Fran had somehow appeared beside him, and the Sphinx with its chisel-like spine then thrust out sharp steel limbs, piercing through his chest.

"cough……"

A massive amount of blood gushed from the gash in Guns' chest, and his body went limp, like a puppet without its strings. The rifle in his hand fell to the ground.

When Elsa saw this bloody scene, she couldn't help but cover her mouth, and her fingers began to tremble uncontrollably.

This woman with beautiful amber eyes and a constant smile... is probably far more dangerous than I imagine.

Fran tossed the incapacitated Guns aside and shook off the blood and marrow fluid smeared on the chimeric spinal limbs. 2

"Fun fact: Spinal nerves contain ganglia that control almost all the muscles in the body. After suffering a ruptured injury through the spine, you won't be able to stand up relying on 'friendship and dreams,' you know?"

Nicholas felt his heart pounding violently, almost bursting out of his chest. (Part 3)

The mystical form of a lamp is usually pure light, while the moth embodies more of a resonance and tremor of the soul. Of course, more often than not, it is a delirious murmur that drives people mad.

The disciple of the Moth Sect before her didn't use any of the sect's secret techniques, fighting solely with that horrifying thing attached to her spine, looking more heretical than a heretic...

She's at least a fourth-tier High Priestess of the Moth Cult... according to their order's hierarchical titles, she should be a "Prophet."

“Lady Hermit, I think we can talk. Although I have offended you before, Guns paid for it with his life. I want to make a deal with you... and we will offer a price that will satisfy you.”

"And all you have to do is promise not to take our lives."

Faced with undeniable pressure from the person in front of him, Nicholas adopted a very humble attitude.

Fran didn't reply, but simply picked up Guns' rifle from the ground, pulled the bolt a few times with a satisfied air, and then threw it back on the ground.

The feline's teasing manner towards its prey stirred a sense of malice in Nicholas, but due to the circumstances, he patiently waited for the other party's response.

Fran's voice quietly broke the silence.

“I’m always happy to accept invitations to ‘trade.’ As long as the price is reasonable, I don’t really care who the trader is.”

Before Nicholas could even catch his breath, her next words followed.

"But not today."

"I regret to inform you that everyone here today is part of the 'final treatment' and awaits the use of your medication. I must dutifully take away your last bit of efficacy."

Fran waved his hand innocently.

"How arrogant! Do you really think you have victory in your grasp...?"

When there is no way to retreat, one must fight like a cornered beast.

Upon learning that the issue could not be resolved through negotiation, Nicholas became surprisingly calm. He quickly began reciting an unidentified prayer, while a subtle glint flashed in his eyes.

In the wake of the War of Death, the Order of Dust had long since descended into chaos, and even the High Priests no longer possessed overwhelming power. With the right methods, even those who held higher positions on the Mystic Ladder could be killed and usurped by the weak.

To be honest, Fran didn't really enjoy teasing his opponents.

She preferred efficient problem-solving to the tedious display of force.

But today's situation is a bit different; the disguise of identity and personality is also part of this treatment.

"call……":

As the sound of flowing liquid quietly arose, a large amount of dark blue seawater suddenly gushed from the four walls of the private room, transforming into swirling, turbulent waves. 8

The second-tier mid-level secret technique learned by Xingyuan Academy, [Summoning the Tide]. Enlightenment.

Nicholas, hiding behind the water curtain, immediately tried to escape through the "door" Guns had left on the floor, following the flow of water. (Seven)

Before he could put his idea into action, the black tentacles of "Reaching for the Moon" broke through the surging vortex, wrapped around his body, and pulled him in front of Fran.

Fran stood at the round wooden table in the center of the private room, a place situated in the heart of turbulent waters, like an isolated island.

Elsa was also brought onto the table, but her hair and clothes were soaking wet, clearly having been in the water. (Three)

"Showing such a resolute attitude just to escape? I'm starting to admire you..."

She maintained her smiling demeanor, while the steel limbs of the Sphinx, embedded in her spine, pierced Nicholas's abdomen.

As the spirit ceased, the surrounding surging torrents also calmed down.

Fran's attack only disrupted the stable output of spiritual energy within him; it did not take his life as it had done with Guns.

The excruciating pain from the piercing pain in his waist and abdomen caused Nicholas to collapse to the ground, and all he could do was stare intently at the person in front of him.

"Aren't you going to make a move? You'll pay the price for this arrogance..."

Fran glanced calmly at Nicholas, saying nothing. He simply raised the steel limbs on his back, about to pierce Nicholas's neck.

"stop!"

A sharp shout rang out.

The person who made that sound... was none other than Guns, whose entire spine had been severed out of thin air.

The gatekeeper, who should have been dead, stood shakily, his clothes soaked through by the earlier surge of water. He held his rifle, but instead of aiming at Fran, he aimed it at Elsa, who was standing right in front of him.

"Stop right there! I'll kill her if you do anything right now."

Elsa felt the chilling aura emanating from the muzzle of the gun behind her, and her heart raced and her breathing became rapid.

She was still reeling from the shock of Ms. Flamel piercing Guns' chest when she was swept away by the torrent of [Call of the Tide]... and after finally catching her breath, she was kidnapped.

Even worse, the kidnapper turned out to be the victim who had just been pierced through the chest... A series of unexpected events threw Elsa into chaos. She didn't even utter her classic "Leave me alone" uttered.

"You're threatening me with a little girl's life and expecting me to care. Don't you think that's ridiculous?"

Fran chuckled and sighed, then uttered a remark.

"Although the nerves in the spine control almost all of a person's movement, if muscles and organs could move on their own without the brain's instructions... that would be the situation you are in now."

"As the gatekeeper, you have tainted an excessive amount of the spirit of the cup."

"Without further ado!"

Guns looked very strange at that moment.

Although his muscles managed to move on their own and he managed to stand, the severed spine caused serious structural damage, making him appear frail and unsteady.

“If you didn’t care about this girl, you wouldn’t have brought her here! And what’s with all this talk of ‘medicine’? You just want to alleviate her psychological impact through our deaths.”

"Hmph, I may die, but I will never let you have your way..."

Upon hearing this, Fran slightly clasped his hands together, his slender fingers, clad in gray gauze gloves, intertwining.

"I can see you're quite determined. How about we make a bet?"

“If you pull the trigger and the gun doesn’t fire, I’ll end your life right here. But if the gun fires and Elsa dies… I’ll let you go. How about that?”

As she casually placed their lives in a gamble that seemed like child's play, Guns' pupils constricted, and he was at a loss for words.

"you……"

He suddenly remembered that the woman had just pulled back the bolt and touched it.

I was lying on the ground, disoriented, and didn't see the specific actions clearly. But unloading a bolt-action rifle isn't easy; could she really have emptied the magazine in just one shot?

"You're threatening me."

Gritting his teeth, Guns decided to trust his experience.

"Then pull the trigger, or I'll come over here?"

As he spoke, Fran casually approached the two of them.

With each step she took forward, Guns felt his heart skip a beat. Gradually, he could no longer bear the increasing pressure, and a sudden surge of anger rose within him, causing him to actually pull the trigger.

"Click."

As the spring snapped shut, Guns' expression instantly turned extremely ugly.

"I'm sorry, it seems you missed the correct answer."

As Fran spoke, he slightly raised his hand, and several steel-core bullets with brass casings fell to the ground with a tinkling sound.

In that moment of surprise, she was already standing in front of Guns.

When the Sphinx is unfolded, it has an extremely long tailbone. With a gentle sweep of this tailbone, which is made of cast machinery and spiritual bones, the gatekeeper's upper body is crushed to pieces.

Sticky fragments of viscera landed on Elsa's face, and she only felt a warm sensation.

"next."

With that, Fran raised the bolt-action rifle, loaded a bullet, and aimed at Nicholas, who was crawling and struggling on the ground.

"boom!"

Unsurprisingly, the bullet hit its mark precisely. The rally organizer's head shattered into a spray of blood.

"next."

At this moment, Fran was like the Grim Reaper checking the list, reaping the lives whose names were called one by one.