The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

Page 245

Trapped within, Thoros was now overwhelmed by confusion and fear. Guns, magic, even grenades… he had tried countless methods to break through the pale, almost gray, mist behind the door, but to no avail.

Even if he stepped into the misty path, it would simply be a matter of walking for a while before returning to the accounting office. Like an ant trapped in a Möbius strip, no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't find a way out.

"Thank you."

Haida nodded slightly, offering a brief greeting. Then she went to the door and lightly knocked on the thornwood door of the inner accounting room with her knuckles.

"Boom, boom."

Two crisp, decisive knocks, yet carrying an unyielding, chilling tone. As if the final curtain had fallen, the death knell tolled dully and mournful.

Is she knocking on the door, or is it death knocking?

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soup!

Chapter 140 The Ceremony of Repentance

For Thoros, less than three minutes felt like an eternity. Inside and outside the room, separated by only a wall, seemed like two worlds that never intersected.

He could feel the shockwaves of the explosion, hear the roar of gunfire, and personally witness the entire shop burning and collapsing... but everything he did proved to be in vain, and in the end he could only wait in fear.

"Boom, boom..."

Two crisp knocks on the door brought an end to this agonizing ordeal that seemed to have no end in sight. Thoros felt as if he had been granted a pardon; his ever-growing anxiety finally found a moment's respite.

But as his frenzied thoughts cooled down, his mind tensed up again... A cold and ominous chill surged up his spine, making him feel inexplicably stiff, as if he were standing under the howling north wind of a snow country.

Clearly, someone who greets others in this way is not a customer intending to make purchases; their intentions are certainly not good.

But when it comes to enemies, he couldn't think of anyone for the moment.

Although Thoros had many grudges with Loretown, this was Mordway, the capital of Gormouth, and those guys would never follow him all the way here just to carry out a pointless attack.

Furthermore, none of them possessed the strange secret technique to manipulate the mist curtain.

As the door of the thornwood room was pushed open from the outside, Haida slowly walked into the inner accounting room.

"A funeral attendant, wearing a brass ring, and also a supervisor..."

Upon seeing the newcomer's highly recognizable attire, Thoros's pupils constricted slightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed rhythmically. If he had previously harbored even a sliver of hope, that self-comforting delusion had now been utterly rejected by the cold reality.

For those Funeral Court fanatics, the fallen Blade was like a filthy old sore, a constant reminder that it would ache and bleed anew. The antagonism between the two sides was inevitable, and the hatred could not be bridged.

It is likely that only the Hunters would pursue and eliminate them so relentlessly, without regard for cost or reward.

Damn it, a bunch of mad dogs infected with epilepsy!

Sansuolus gritted his teeth, his right hand resting on the holster at his waist, ready to draw at any moment.

However, this was merely a deceptive gesture. In reality, he had already tightly gripped a modified standard-issue pistol in his left hand, but he had concealed it in the sleeve of his robe, making it difficult to see.

"Sister, where are my colleagues?"

Seeing that the person in front of him did not seem to be launching an attack directly, after a brief moment of contemplation, Solous took the initiative to speak and probe.

This is an expected problem.

Haida's expression remained as calm as a still well, as always. After a moment, she succinctly hinted at the fate of those people.

"'Colleagues'... Strictly speaking, I don't think you're qualified to use that word. However, you'll see them soon. Not long."

"you!"

The words of curse were already on the tip of his tongue, but Thoros forced himself to swallow them back.

There were seven people guarding outside, three of whom were skilled hunters who had survived the chaos of the Northern Kingdom. Even after their defection, they had never stopped honing their combat skills. Not to mention, there was also a former ascetic who was close to the third tier and had mastered [Blood Burning].

This was practically a complete tactical squad, yet it couldn't even last three minutes before being wiped out by a single person? And this was despite their own side having greater familiarity with the terrain and being equipped with both visible and concealed firing positions…

This overwhelming situation cannot be called a battle at all; it is merely "ravaging".

Self-rescue... Think of a way to save yourself.

The seven examples of those who had perished in the fire had nearly robbed Thoros of the courage to launch a counterattack, but continuing the stalemate would only lead to certain death. However, the feasibility of trying to sway a Hunter supervisor whose mental state was clearly abnormal with jewels, gold, or eloquent words was far too slim.

He had once been a member of Funeral Home, so he knew better than anyone just how stubborn these guys could be.

“You didn’t act directly like you did with them, which means you still want something… What do you want to know? Speak. You can get everything I know. And I will perform the ‘Confessor’s Ritual’ as the price for betraying the hunter.”

　Guilt…泀粑&⊥∧仨:ˉ≠；〇∮午蒐“索≥*QＵn： “I can give you anything except my head and my life.”

In the end, Solomon still chose to feign weakness and beg for mercy.

As for the "practices of penitents" he mentioned, it was an old ritual performed by the hunters.

A person, deeply remorseful yet unwilling to die, might have a swordsman sever their own hands from their wrists, offering their own limbs as a price to plead for mercy. Abandoning dignity and the pursuit of the hidden, they would spend their remaining years in a mutilated body…

Haida simply shook her head, rejecting the proposal, the sincerity of which was questionable.

“I’m sorry, I don’t need your promises. I intend to end this contact in four minutes, and there’s about a minute left… During this time, I hope you feel as much ‘fear’ as possible.”

"Your time is running out, so please cherish it."

Hunters always prioritize efficiency; anything outside of combat is meaningless and superfluous. Only when facing Broken Blade do they not mind wasting some time as long as it doesn't interfere with their mission.

"Damn it! If this were Loretown, I'd skin your face, chop off your head, and hang the rest on a flag to be frozen into meat by the north wind..."

Upon hearing her words, Thoros could no longer suppress the growing rage within him and cursed aloud.

He raised his hand and pulled open his black leather overcoat, revealing a coil of tubular detonators wrapped around his waist. All of their fuses were connected together, allowing them to be pulled out at once.

"This thing is an instant-explosive type produced by White Cup. We've made some minor modifications to our training ground to make pulling the rope easier... At this distance, as long as you're still human, you'll inevitably perish with me!"

"Want to use a gun? The moment you make the gesture of drawing your gun, we'll both go to hell. Let me go. Nodding means you agree, shaking your head means I'll pull the trigger."

The reason why Suoluojiusi:ˇtemple3∠＋scatter〇wuzhongzhuan＠≯qUN:s made Haida express her opinion by nodding and shaking her head because he had quietly completed the casting of the second type of mid-level secret technique [Silence] at the same time he finished speaking.

Within the area of ​​influence of this technique, the recitation of prayers will be somewhat interfered with. However, some esoteric practices that do not require chanting will remain unaffected. Frankly, this technique is very useful when dealing with most esoteric Buddhist disciples…

Those who were obsessed with esoteric arts, once stripped of their ability to wield the invisible, were no different from, or even worse than, stronger mortals.

However, it was basically useless during the Hunters' civil war. After all, besides the arcane arts, the hunters were also accustomed to using firearms and weapons, and most of them were skilled in close combat. The reason Thoros was using it now was purely as an extra layer of insurance.

Despite his threat, Haida's grey-chestnut eyes remained unmoved, maintaining their coldness and indifference.

However, she did think about it for a moment.

Even if drawing a gun or throwing a knife guarantees a fatal blow, he might still be able to make a pulling motion using basic muscle reflexes before dying. And this size of white-cup detonator would indeed pose a threat to him.

The optimal solution is for the [Mechanized Spirit] that powers the power sword "Nirvana" to sever his hands out of thin air when he is off guard. The two are about four meters apart, close to the limit that this secret technique can achieve.

Just as she was about to take action, Fran pushed open the door and walked slowly into the room.

Because of the silence field, she didn't speak. She simply smiled warmly and approachably, her eyes curving like a crescent moon, as if she were meeting an old friend after a long separation, ready to exchange pleasantries.

After that, she gently opened her palm, revealing a bundle of white, rope-like fuses.

"That's my pull rope... How could it be? No, when was it?"

As Thoros exclaimed in surprise, the [Silence] spell dissipated. He certainly wouldn't immediately believe the other party, but instead immediately checked the detonator's pull cord and fuse… Soon, he discovered that the object in his hand had vanished without a trace.

In other words, he was holding the fuse with his bare hands just now? Ridiculous! He clearly remembered the feeling of grabbing the fuse just now, and this guy was outside the door, he had no chance to get close to him at all?

No, none of that matters...it doesn't matter at all!

"It will detonate in three seconds after it's triggered. Do you really want to die? You damn mad dogs..."

Thoros took out an exceptionally sharp relic dagger and began cutting the explosives strapped to his body at near-human speed. He could already see a wisp of grayish-white smoke from the ignited detonator; he had at most one breath left.

In a sense, this can be considered a "race against time".

"Boom!"

Upon hearing the sound, his body trembled uncontrollably, and his hands went limp from the shock.

However, the next moment, Solous realized something was wrong. He wasn't dead... The noise he'd just heard was merely a mimicry of the woman in the doctor's coat. But the detonator had clearly been triggered, and he could even smell gunpowder smoke—why hadn't it exploded?

“If it were just about taking the fuse from you, I wouldn’t have needed to stay outside for so long. You can try weighing the explosives strapped to your body and see if they change.”

With his excellent quality of being happy to help others, Fran took the initiative to explain to him.

"It's so light, it's like only the outer shell remains..."

Feeling the significantly lighter detonator, Solos uttered a hesitant and sluggish murmur.

"Of course. The medicine inside is with me."

"Another point is that this type of detonator is an old product that the White Cup Cult has abandoned. Their new product uses electric fuse technology, so detonation doesn't require such a complicated process."

As he spoke, Fran reached into the pocket of his doctor's coat and took out several light yellow solid medications, then casually tossed them aside. Although the fire outside was spreading, it wouldn't spread inside anytime soon.

Previously, Thoros had passed through the Fog of the Door several times when attempting to leave the room, so Fran simply checked his belongings. Upon discovering these potentially dangerous toys, she couldn't resist taking out the medicine...

Once the [Crown Thief] talent reaches the Dominion rank, it can silently attempt to steal as long as a spiritual link is established. If one's spiritual vision is high enough, one can discover that several invisible and intangible spiritual tentacles are swirling around the doctor's body.

They undulate with the rhythm of their breathing, like jellyfish floating on the bottom of a deep abyss.

Seeing that his final trump card had failed even though he didn't fully understand how it worked, Thoros felt as if his spine had been ripped out. His muscles twitched with fear, and all that remained was a chilling despair.

The gun hidden in his sleeve fell to the ground with a thud, as if he had given up on making a final, desperate struggle.

"It's truly pathetic that even after exhausting all means, death could not be avoided... The betrayal was not voluntary; I simply wanted to live. Why are you relentlessly pursuing me..."

"Four minutes are up."

Heda did not respond to Solous's question, but instead drew her power sword "Nirvana," which she had never truly used before, and almost effortlessly sliced ​​its blade across his neck. His head rolled off, like a ripe fruit falling from its vine during harvest season.

At this moment, she seemed like a death deity who reaped lives according to a strict, predetermined schedule. Without leaving a trace, without showing any mercy, she took away those whose end had come.

There were no eulogies, no elegies, no tombstones, and no bouquets. No one would commemorate the death of a slave trader; only the few calls of black-feathered harbingers of doom.

"quack!"

"Be quiet, Mu Ning."

Fran extended his index finger and gently scratched the soft downy feathers on Munin's chest, calming the overly excited little guy down.

"Haidah, aren't you going to ask anything? You must be somewhat interested in the past of these Broken Blades and why they came to Mordway, right?"

“No need. Contact with the Broken Blades is pointless, except for verbal entanglements and interrogation. Besides, as you said before, ‘the dead can speak’... so I kept his head.”

Having completed the final execution, Haida let out a deep breath, the coldness in her eyes gradually fading.

Although she hadn't expended much energy and the enemy wasn't particularly formidable, she did feel a sense of almost exhilarating comfort. It was as if she were wiping away the grime and stains from a silver mirror with a handkerchief, making it shine like new again.

“That’s true. Peeking into memories is much easier than directly questioning them. Speaking of which, that half-finished ‘bio-conversion device’ in the clinic should probably be upgraded again…”

Fran nodded slightly in agreement with Haida's statement.

She then bent down, simply wrapped Thoros's head in a plastic medical bag, and placed it in her medical kit. The leader of the Betrayer Blade squad remained awake until the very end, his expression frozen in a final, desperate, and unwilling look.

"Um, Ms. Vivian, and Sister Heda, the fire is spreading very quickly... Shouldn't we leave?"

With a slightly apprehensive feeling, Derica leaned closer to Fran and asked in a low voice.

In her more than twenty years of life, she witnessed twice horrific scenes that would have caused physical discomfort to ordinary people.

And coincidentally, both of these incidents are directly related to the Hunter of Secrets... The first was when Bartley fought back against the dozens of pirates who tried to assassinate him at the Black Sea Tavern, and the second was everything Sister Haida just did.

Blood, smoke, fire, bullets flying, and shattered limbs. Even in the chaotic and decadent Gormouth, such a scene was still a rare sight.

"It is indeed time to leave. We'll also take the opportunity to visit Prince Gunther's hidden residence and see what has happened there."

"By the way, Detrica, the items we bought from the Third Habitat before, let's use them as payment for providing information this time."

Seemingly sensing the thief's unease, Fran gently explained the next steps to her, also preparing to offer a small reward as a gesture of reassurance.

After saying that, she took out a black pearl-like "crow's eye stone" and handed it to her.

"Crow's eye stone?"

Detrick blinked a few times in surprise, then a look of delight gradually appeared. Her unease was temporarily put aside.

“Ms. Vivian, is this really for me? However, the information I provided was very basic and not worth such valuable material. How about I return the wolf-head gold coin from Meredith to you?”

The moment she said those words, she regretted it and unconsciously pursed her lips, clearly feeling a pang of regret.

Of course, Fran wouldn't accept the offer. After all, taking back something that's already been given away is rather degrading... and it's very detrimental to maintaining a doctor's image.

"I never take back what I give, or do you want to refuse this little gift?"

"No, how could that be? Well, thank you for your generosity..."

After a brief moment of awkwardness, Detricka finally accepted the raven's eye stone with peace of mind.