107 The Black Duke (6100)

"What!"

The youth wielding the blade jerked his head up. His keen perception, far surpassing that of an ordinary person, detected danger from a great distance.

"Ah!!!"

The muscles in his right leg tensed, and veins bulged like small snakes. He shifted his entire body over a dozen centimeters to the left out of thin air, just as a sniper bullet grazed past him.

*Bang!* It struck the ground and exploded with a roar.

A hole the size of a basketball appeared, with a deep crater at the center of the spiderweb-like cracks. The special bullet, possessing immense penetrating power, had drilled deep inside.

Just as the youth let out a sigh of relief, a figure suddenly appeared behind him. A pair of fists, adorned with metal "tooth tigers" (knuckle dusters), swung up and down like javelins.

Carrying tremendous force, they slammed into his back.

The blade-wielding youth stumbled violently, his internal energy roiling. Ahead, a silver light flashed brilliantly.

Four steel claws shimmered like blades, slicing through the air with a menacing hum.

"Shadowless Blade!"

The youth's right hand suddenly vanished, a blur of blade shadows sweeping through the air, clashing heavily against the steel claws.

He slid his feet, dodging sideways. Two or three incoming fist shadows struck nothing but air.

*Click!* A soft shadow suddenly lunged onto him.

It coiled around the youth like a tough vine. His movements stalled, and a sense of impending doom flashed through his heart.

The youth fiercely slashed his blade toward his own shoulder.

*Clang!* A fist covered in a membrane of light struck from a tricky angle, instantly knocking the blade edge aside.

*Zing!* The steel claws swung down, tearing through the light membrane on the youth’s chest with a screeching sound. Another arm, equipped with steel claws, reached out, delivering a swipe brimming with massive strength.

*Squelch.* Four long, narrow claw marks tore completely through the youth’s chest, leaving his abdominal cavity a bloody mess.

*Whoosh!* An arm wreathed in flames reached out.

*Snap!* It grabbed the youth’s head, and orange flames erupted, sending a terrifying high temperature rising.

"Ah!!!!!!"

He shrieked violently, but within an instant, it turned into a hoarse moan. His vocal cords had been incinerated; the youth couldn't even scream.

His short hair burned away in a heartbeat.

Mantolan held him for more than five seconds before letting go. A face, now unrecognizable and charred to the bone, was exposed to the air. Bloody grease mixed with blood dripped down with a rhythmic *pitter-patter*.

His eye sockets were blackened, and charred skin curled outward.

His white teeth, no longer protected by lips, were exposed like a skull, appearing grotesquely twisted. His entire body stood rigid, like a wooden doll.

*Slash!* A steel claw swept across his throat.

White Wolf cleanly severed the youth’s head. The headless body, still holding the blade, collapsed.

*Thud!*

A Holy Flame Society combatant, currently engaged in battle, felt something hit his back. A glance from the corner of his eye revealed a charred, unrecognizable head with exposed bone.

He looked to the side and saw his captain’s headless corpse sprawled on the ground! The iconic steel blade lay at an angle, already stained crimson by the gushing blood.

"The situation is dire! Retreat, now!!!"

He roared, his long sword moving like flowing water as he immediately pulled back.

*Thud!* A heavy, powerful fist struck his back. The youth stumbled violently, his retreat broken.

He looked up, eyes wide with horror. Counting his previous opponent, five figures had now surrounded him.

"I'm done for..."

...

*Snap!* A broken blade fell to the ground. The flying fragment embedded itself deep into a wall.

A figure knelt on the ground, covered in wounds—fist prints, burns, and claw marks. He was drenched in blood, his skin torn, bones visible.

The youth’s head hung low, blood streaming from his nose. He had been besieged until there was no life left in him.

Three meters away, White Wolf, himself not lightly injured, let out a heavy breath. He looked around with a slight sway.

The other Holy Flame Society secret-ring master had also been executed. With no main combatants left to hold the line, the auxiliary fighters were slaughtered with ease.

The enemies who had charged into these two streets were all dead. White Wolf looked at Mantolan and said solemnly, "Thank you all for saving our lives."

"It's nothing. We look out for one another," Mantolan replied, smoothing her hair.

White Wolf thanked them repeatedly, then walked several dozen meters away to crouch beside Black Hawk’s corpse in silence. His lips moved slightly, as if he were making a promise.

"Sigh..." Mantolan sighed. In battle, death was an everyday occurrence.

A moment later, White Wolf hesitated before asking, "May I ask, what is that light membrane you all are using..."

Mantolan pondered for a moment before speaking quickly.

Two minutes later.

"There's such a good thing?!"

"If every transcendent of ours could be equipped with this, our survival rate in battle would increase more than tenfold!"

White Wolf and the members of Squad C13 looked shocked, their expressions tinged with joy and longing.

In the following tens of minutes, Squad C12, led by Mantolan, was in its element. They continuously assisted other squads on nearby streets and killed quite a few Holy Flame Society secret-ring masters, stealing the spotlight.

By the end, several A-level backbone members leading the hundreds of fighters caught wind of the news. After a detailed inquiry, they reported the specifics to the organization's high command.

*Boom!*

The walls of the Wisteria Mansion were blown apart, and figures rushed inside like nimble leopards. More intense firefights and fierce hand-to-hand combat erupted in the main hall.

"Damn it!!! Where are the reinforcements?!"

On the other side of the mansion, Director Rellian, protected by his men, roared in impotent fury.

At this rate, the stronghold wouldn't hold until the Azure Flame Task Force arrived. To save his own skin, he had no choice but to abandon the position and attempt a breakout.

*Bang, bang, bang!*

A series of bullets ricocheted off the floor.

Director Rellian gritted his teeth and roared, "Retreat!"

...

A group of seven or eight men vanished into the darkness.

Elsewhere, Carlos, wearing a black jacket, began to sprint through the shadows, his coat hem flapping wildly.

Ten minutes later, at the main entrance of Wisteria Mansion.

Rellian, his face a bruised blue, was forcibly dragged over by two men, his body half-bent against his will.

Gale winds howled, and flames danced like demons.

On the street, a dozen black-clad backbone members stood silently, exuding a cold, murderous aura. They formed a fan shape around a tall man.

"Lord Black Jazz, the man has been brought."

The two members of the Golden Spiral organization forcibly pushed Rellian to the ground, kicking his knees to buckle.

*Huff...* A faint wisp of smoke drifted up.

The man smoking a cigar turned his head.

He wore a black suit, black leather boots, and black gloves. A wide-brimmed black hat sat on his head, revealing a pair of indifferent eyes.

The man also wore a silver chain—a very ordinary chain with a water-drop-shaped tag at the end.

Engraved deeply upon it was a single number: 7.

He watched Rellian quietly. A stifling sense of oppression blanketed the surroundings, growing more intense by the second.

Rellian was a director of a large stronghold and a secret-ring master himself. With his high status, his own presence was not weak, and he had already steeled himself for death. Yet, facing the pressure from Black Jazz, he couldn't help but feel a surge of primal fear.

"Where is Carlos?"

A calm voice came from above. Black Jazz watched him as if looking at a dead man.

"Carlos!" Rellian suddenly realized.

The reason the Golden Spiral organization had attacked his Wisteria Mansion was to exact revenge on the traitor Carlos! He was merely suffering collateral damage! Anger and resentment welled up inside him.

"I will ask again: where is Carlos?"

Black Jazz’s tone remained unchanged.

"He ran! I don't know where he is..."

Rellian lowered his eyes, not daring to meet Black Jazz’s gaze. The man’s indifferent eyes terrified him.

"He ran?"

*BOOM!!!*

A skeletal arm, like that of a zombie, reached out from the void and pressed lightly onto Rellian’s chest. A terrifying, monstrous force, utterly disproportionate to the arm's appearance, erupted like a flash flood.

Rellian shrieked as his chest caved in. His body flew backward as if snapped in two, crashing into a wall before falling like a sack of rags.

"Ugh!" He curled into a ball on the ground, vomiting. Rellian could feel his chest cracking; every muscle and bone radiated a tearing pain.

The agony, unlike anything he had ever experienced, made him tremble. His pores stood on end, and even his pupils dilated from the pain.

He rolled over, and a pitch-black palm print seemed branded into his bone and flesh, slowly emitting a gray mist.

"This is... ah..."

Rellian gasped, rolling from side to side.

A black leather boot stepped down heavily.

It pinned him, rendering him unable to move.

"You..." Rellian squeezed the word out through his teeth.

"Since you don't know where Carlos is, you are no longer of use. Please, enjoy the next part..."

Black Jazz exhaled slightly, smoke rising.

The mist rose higher and higher, turning from light gray to black, and from a thin wisp to a large cloud.

The air currents swirled to form a vortex.

From within the vortex, a hunched, skeletal shadow crawled out like an evil spirit.

The entity was pitch black, its skin wrinkled like an old man's. It was only the size of a youth, but on its back, it carried a gravestone as wide as an adult. On the rectangular stone, strange, blurred characters wiggled like tadpoles.

"Tomb-Bearing Evil Spirit!"

Rellian suddenly recalled certain rumors.

He began to struggle in terror, but a withered claw had already pressed onto his right arm. In a split second, it felt as if something had been sucked out of his limb; its color turned deathly pale.

Finally, it became the color of a marble statue.

He realized with horror that the arm had lost all sensation, as if it no longer belonged to him at all.

The evil spirit raised its hand toward Rellian’s head.

The pitch-black palm pressed down inch by inch. Just as it was about to touch his forehead, it suddenly swiveled to the right!

*Thud!* It collided with a figure wreathed in cyan flames. A massive fireball erupted, and the flames burned on the ground like flowing water.

The asphalt on the street softened instantly, collapsing into a liquid state centered on the flames. These cyan flames were intense in both temperature and adhesion.

A drop of flame landed on Rellian’s arm, and the pale skin ignited instantly.

The fire raged, melting bone and fat in an instant.

*Snap!*

A black hand-blade struck down heavily, severing the arm. Black Jazz pivoted and delivered a whip kick, sending Rellian flying toward his subordinates.

"You lot go first. Today, I intend to properly test the methods of one of the three captain-level commanders of the Holy Flame Society's Azure Flame Task Force." Black Jazz said this as he turned his head...

He removed his hat and performed a gentleman’s bow.

"A pleasure to meet you."

...

At dawn, the Golden Spiral organization's forces returned in triumph. Although they hadn't achieved their primary objective, they had gained much else. They had destroyed one large stronghold and wiped out nearly half the combat strength of one medium and two small strongholds.

They had also captured the director of the Wisteria large stronghold.

Whether for negotiations or other purposes, they held the chips now, and the upper echelons were already planning their next move.

In this battle, the most eye-catching event was the clash between Lord Black Jazz, the seventh-ranking elite of the Golden Spiral, and the captain of the Azure Flame Task Force. The rumor was that both had suffered significant injuries.

Second, the focus wasn't on the main assault, but on the blocking force forming the outer perimeter. A Squad C12 "Witch" unit had displayed shocking combat power, influencing the local battlefield.

At least a dozen people had been indirectly saved by them, and fifteen Holy Flame Society secret-ring masters had been killed by their hands.

Whether due to a snowballing advantage or the enemy being caught off guard, Squad C12 had made a major contribution in the interception mission.

The Golden Spiral high command awarded them commendations and rewards that very night.

At the same time, three A-level backbone members rushed toward the Runic Research Building. Halfway there, they received orders from the highest level to return immediately and not disturb Kashu’s rest, planning to deal with other matters tomorrow morning.

Thus, the Golden Spiral organization spent the night in a triumphant atmosphere as the sun gradually rose.

Faint clouds floated like thin mist, and the sunlight pierced through, spilling quietly over the vast earth.

It was a beautiful day with mild temperatures.

...

In the fourth-floor research lab, a figure yanked the curtains open. Golden sunlight poured in through the glass, bringing light and warmth to the room.

Xiunan squinted, quietly looking down.

He brewed a cup of coffee and stood by the window with a white porcelain cup, admiring the lush, vibrant grass.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

A knock sounded at the door.

"Who is it?"

"It is I, Black Jazz..."

"Please, come in."

Xiunan raised an eyebrow, though he wasn't particularly surprised; everything was within his expectations.

With a creak, a figure walked in slowly.

In the sunlight, the gentleman, dressed entirely in black, removed his hat and introduced himself.

"I am the seventh-ranking member of the Golden Spiral, you may call me Black Jazz." He straightened his back, his posture stiff, carrying an inexplicable air of pride.

Clearly, all of Black Jazz’s previous actions were merely etiquette; he was a proud man at his core.

However, although Black Jazz valued etiquette, not everyone was worthy of his bow. To earn his respect, one had to possess equivalent status or combat power, or at least be of significant value. Otherwise, one would end up like Director Rellian.

The fact that he performed this gentleman’s bow to Xiunan meant that he already recognized Xiunan’s value from the bottom of his heart.

"Black Jazz..."

Xiunan looked him up and down. This high-ranking member of the Golden Spiral had a very solid presence, exuding an almost imperceptible sense of danger. Yet, within this heavy aura, there was a faint, small sense of stagnation.

"You’re injured?" Xiunan asked suddenly.

"Oh?" Black Jazz raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed. I fought the captain of the Holy Flame Society's Azure Flame Task Force last night. The toll was not insignificant."

He said this, but in reality, it was far more than just a "not insignificant" toll. In that battle, Black Jazz had been scorched by the Azure Flame, and his injuries were not light.

They were somewhere between minor and serious, requiring at least half a month to a month of recovery. Even after healing, there would be lasting effects, and it would take two months before he could fight at full strength.

"Would you like to try a little something I made last night? It should accelerate your healing..."

As Xiunan spoke, he began rooting around in his pockets, eventually pulling out a brass medal.

The medal was only the size of a thumbprint, featuring radial lines. At the very center was a water-drop-shaped rune, currently inactive.

"Oh? This is..." Black Jazz stepped closer.

His curiosity was piqued; after all, this runemaster, codenamed "Knight," could create Conversion Pendants—an incredibly practical item for low-level transcendents.

The Golden Spiral had already consulted the organization’s other three runemasters, who all agreed that Kashu’s runic mastery far surpassed their own. The refinement of the rune lines on the Conversion Pendants alone was breathtaking, and the unknown circuits and intricate structures within the runes were masterful.

The three old men had reached a unanimous conclusion:

Kashu was likely a prospective runic expert or a top-tier elite runemaster. Because his works were still few, they couldn't jump to conclusions just yet.

"Care to try? You only need to activate your ability at the lowest level. The Healing Medal contains a conversion circuit..."

Xiunan handed it over, and Black Jazz took it.

After a moment of hesitation, he removed his gloves, exposing a pair of withered, elderly-looking hands.

He gripped it gently and activated his ability. A cloud of gray-black smoke slowly rose from the pores of Black Jazz’s arms.

"This is..." He frowned slightly.

At that moment, the macro-circulation of ring power within Black Jazz combined with the micro-circulation of the Healing Medal. The medal began to run continuously.

It drew in mysterious energy from the outside, bit by bit, filling the cycles.

Black Jazz could clearly feel a warmth spreading through his body, meandering through his entire system.

It was like a gentle stream of water, sweeping across the places riddled with bruising and burns, nourishing the hideous, painful wounds with the unique, soothing touch of water.

Not only his skin, but his internal injuries were being healed as well.

Even areas where he hadn't realized he was injured felt a faint heat—hidden wounds he hadn't noticed were seemingly being thoroughly cleansed.

The effect was good, though the speed seemed a bit slow.

It could probably cut his recovery time in half?

Xiunan seemed to notice his confusion and said, "Lord Black Jazz, you might want to gradually push your ability to its limit. The intense surge and consumption of ring power will greatly accelerate the Healing Medal’s speed..."

"Is that so?" Black Jazz did as instructed. A swirling mist formed a vortex in the air, from which the skeletal figure climbed out, carrying the gravestone.

A grim, icy aura permeated the lab.

Xiunan, however, watched him with an expressionless face. *This Knight is definitely not simple,* Black Jazz thought to himself. *His mastery in the field of secret-ring masters is likely quite high.*

As he pondered this, he suddenly felt the warmth within him turn ferocious. If it had previously been like a slow trickle from a small faucet, it was now like a large wooden barrel being poured over his head.

His entire body radiated warmth.

The healing speed was not just doubled—it was more than tenfold! If he could stay in this state, he might recover in a single day.

Including rest and sleep, it would take two days at the fastest, three at the slowest. This was truly a good item!

Black Jazz sensed it for a moment before retracting his ability; he didn't need to save that much time on healing. He needed to make his purpose for coming clear.

Half an hour later, the two were chatting happily. Xiunan smiled as he showed Black Jazz his creations.

There were two or three practical little gadgets, though not as impactful as the Conversion Pendants or the Healing Medal, they were still useful items for combat.

Black Jazz’s eyes shone with interest, and he promised to fulfill some of Xiunan’s requests:

1. Collect various resources and purchase specialized equipment for high-level runemasters. Xiunan wanted to build a large lab, and a separate, spacious building would be chosen.
2. Grant access to certain Tier 2 mount runes; he wanted to conduct in-depth runic research and analyze their structures.
3. Provide modern runemaster knowledge and books. If possible, an invitation to a regional exchange meeting or a club for modern runemasters.
4. Elevate his status and provide independent living quarters.
5. Provide a combat establishment; preferably, Xiunan wanted to lead a force himself and participate in combat personally.

Black Jazz had no objections for the time being, merely stating that some conditions required further deliberation. He also suggested testing Xiunan’s runemaster rank and secret-ring master combat ability.

Coincidentally, the Golden Spiral’s seven-member council was meeting later, and he could bring Xiunan along to observe and get acquainted, before heading to the Ice Thorn Runemaster Guild.

That guild held the world's most authoritative certifications.

Being recognized by the Ice Thorn Runemaster Guild was the proudest achievement for any runemaster in the world.

A few minutes later.

"Let’s go."

"Alright."

Under the envious gazes of the three old runemasters, Xiunan followed Black Jazz out of the Runic Building.