Chapter 132 - Chapter 132 Black Scorpion
Chapter 132 Black Scorpion
Crash!
Margot barely managed to dodge the deadly dirk hurtling towards him, but in doing so, he failed to move his revolver in sync with Lumian’s rapid motion. The bullet struck the opposite wall, sending stone fragments flying. With a metallic clink, Fallen Mercury zipped past Margot again and landed not far away on the ground.
Lumian straightened up and swiftly stomped his right foot onto the enemy’s instep to stop him from raising his knee and slamming it into his abdomen.
In the blink of an eye, Lumian was nearly plastered to his opponent. He either slashed or slammed with both hands, or braced and blocked with his elbows. His feet delivered low kicks or stomps, and his knees jerked forward or bounced around. Margot was too preoccupied fending off these attacks to aim and fire.
The thug felt as if he were caught in a relentless storm of his opponent’s blows. Moreover, Lumian stayed close, employing close-quarters combat techniques to prevent him from retreating and using his gun.
For Margot, such a fighting style was both foreign and dangerous.
Crash!
Margot’s elbow smashed into the wall, causing the house to shudder.
Whack!
Margot’s right wrist was twisted, and the black revolver slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground.
Wham! Wham! Wham! Lumian unleashed a barrage of hands, elbows, knees, and feet, forcing the enemy to retreat repeatedly.
Towards the end, Margot could only block instinctively, his thoughts unable to keep pace with Lumian’s swift movements.
However, he sensed that he had already deciphered the pattern of his opponent’s attacks and anticipated the sequences that would follow. He could defend against all onslaughts with his muscle memory alone. In just a moment, he would launch a counterattack!
Instinctively, Margot raised his right foot to block the incoming low kick.
But he met nothing.
Lumian’s left foot extended diagonally, defying the limits of human flexibility. He hooked the pewter-black dirk that lay silently beside him.
He had attacked Margot to force him to draw near to Fallen Mercury.
The pewter-black dirk dirk soared up and stabbed Margot’s thigh.
Margot found himself pinned down by Lumian while balancing precariously on one foot. He had little recourse but to retract his right foot and twist his body slightly to evade.
Fallen Mercury grazed his thigh and tore through his milky-white pants, leaving a shallow trail of blood.
Wham! Wham! Wham! Lumian went on the offensive once more with the close-quarters combat techniques Aurore had taught him, overwhelming Margot until he had no time to tend to his leg injuries.
Luckily, the wound was superficial and bled only slightly.
Crash!
Margot’s back collided with the wall.
Throughout the entire encounter, he hadn’t even had a chance to speak. The other party still had his ears plugged, unafraid of any provocation.
Margot’s blood boiled, but it only served to fuel his determination. He planned to trade his injuries for an advantage and escape his current predicament.
At that moment, his raised arms met nothing.
He watched in confusion and shock as the strange man with the white bandages on his face voluntarily retreated and created distance. Then, the mysterious man turned and sprinted away. As he ran, he flicked the pewter-black dirk up with his toes and snatched it in his left hand.
Momentarily stunned, Margot was about to give chase when footsteps echoed from the alley.
Hearing the gunshots, two patrolling police officers had rushed over with black semi-automatic revolvers, alerted by nearby residents who had “come downstairs” due to the fire.
“What happened? What’s your Poison Spur Mob up to again?” one of the policemen demanded with a frown, recognizing Margot’s face. Margot shot a disdainful glance at the two officers in white shirts, black vests, and black uniform coats, and replied, “I was attacked. Officers, you’re too late!”
Although he said this, he was secretly relieved the police hadn’t arrived later and had scared the mysterious man away. Otherwise, he might have been hunted down.
After all, the strange man was likely a Sequence 8 Provoker. Moreover, his combat techniques were clearly superior to Margot’s, and his cunning allowed him to gain the upper hand.
The policeman’s face darkened.
“Then follow me back to give a statement. We’ll help you find the assailant. Also, is this your gun?”
He pointed at the revolver that had fallen to the ground.
Margot sneered. “Rely on you to find him? Haha, that’s the funniest joke I’ve heard this year! That gun belongs to the assailant. Take it away.”
With that, he briefly examined his wound to ensure he wasn’t poisoned.
Then, he sauntered out of the alley ahead of the two police officers.
The officer who had first spoken wore an ugly expression. He tried to draw his gun, but his partner held his hand down.
Returning to Rue du Rossignol, Margot’s face hardened.
His first instinct was to hurry home and rely on the traps he had set up to guard against a second wave of attacks.
But a few seconds later, Margot dismissed the idea, feeling it wasn’t sufficient.
He decided to go to the house of the Poison Spur Mob’s boss, ‘Black Scorpion’ Roger, and inform him of the attack. He would stay there for the night.
That was the safest place for Margot. Margot bandaged the wound on his right leg and sprinted from Rue du Rossignol to Avenue du Marché, making his way to the Suhit steam locomotive, and finally arriving at Unit 126, a three-story building with a small garden in the back.
Before long, he encountered Roger, the Black Scorpion, in the study.
A middle-aged man with firmly set black hair, Roger’s slightly plump face was framed by cold, deep blue eyes.
Dressed in aqua-blue silk pajamas, Roger regarded Margot with a blank expression. “You were attacked?”
“Yes.” Margot recounted the events that had transpired.
Roger’s blue eyes suddenly darkened, as if connected to a bottomless abyss or an eternally burning hell.
After a moment, he nodded.
“There are no signs of you being cursed. But you have to be careful. Your blood is on that knife.”
As Roger spoke, he approached Margot.
“I’ll help you eliminate any hidden dangers first.”
Margot breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Boss.”
He followed Roger out of the study and down the stairs into the basement.
Upon flipping the switch and illuminating the gas wall lamp, Roger pointed at the statue in the center and instructed, “Open it and crawl inside.”
The statue depicted a woman with gentle facial features, the folds of her long dress rendered vividly and lifelike.
Margot strode to the statue, pulled open the concealed door at its abdomen, and climbed in.
As the hidden door closed, an eerie silence filled the basement. ‘Black Scorpion’ Roger gazed at the statue and intoned a word in ancient Hermes.
“New life!”
Ghostly, indistinct black flames erupted from the statue’s surface, flowing like water and burning silently. After thirty seconds, Roger said to Margot, “You can come out now.”
This ritual was a method for eliminating the hidden dangers of a curse. By entering the female statue’s abdomen and reemerging, it symbolized a “rebirth.” Coupled with the corresponding Beyonder powers, it could sever any connection with the item that had fallen into the enemy’s hands.
“Wait for me in the study. I’ll search for clues about the assailant,” Roger instructed after ensuring Margot was unharmed.
Margot nodded and hastened out of the basement to the study. He pulled up a chair and settled into it.
As time ticked by, Margot suddenly felt his body becoming unbearably heavy, as if submerged in icy water.
His breathing grew labored.
Margot’s pupils dilated, but he saw nothing.
He fought with all his strength, as if restrained by invisible ropes. He could barely move his arms, fingers, and feet.
Thud!
Margot finally collapsed to the floor, but the strange sensation persisted. His face turned an unnatural purple, and his mouth hung open. His thoughts grew increasingly murky. Why… With this question in mind, Margot succumbed to the encroaching darkness.
At the basement door, Roger emerged with a grave expression.
He has potent anti-divination abilities…
This matter isn’t simple…
Roger the Black Scorpion contemplated as he returned to the study.
In the next second, his gaze froze. He discovered Margot sprawled on the ground, his face purple and his lower body soaked. He was no longer breathing.
After the Poison Spur Mob leader conducted a ritual to eliminate any lingering dangers of a curse, he mysteriously perished in the safest location of the Poison Spur Mob—right before Roger the Black Scorpion.
Auberge du Coq Doré, Room 207. Lumian, now in fresh attire, nodded with satisfaction.
Fallen Mercury informed him through its vibrations that the fate exchange had been completed.
This meant Margot would instantly be assaulted by the Montsouris ghost. Completing a fate exchange after stabbing someone took time-anywhere between five and thirty minutes, depending on the desired fate, the individual’s strength, and their subconscious resistance. If Lumian was the target and he eagerly opened his mind and body, the fate exchange could be achieved swiftly—within seconds or even less than twenty. Gazing at the pewter-black dirk in his hand, Lumian smirked.
“When I have time, I’ll teach you Morse code. Otherwise, every time we communicate, I have to constantly narrow down options based on your feedback. It’s far too tedious.”
Fallen Mercury’s quivering blade stilled, as if stunned.
Lumian, triumphant after a successful hunt, was in high spirits. He teased with a smile, “Do you wonder why you should learn, even as a blade? Ambition is crucial. The same goes for being a blade. Do you want to remain like this forever?”
Then, he inquired, “What fate did you exchange this time?”
Lumian extended his spiritual sense to the pewter-black, patterned dirk.
With Fallen Mercury’s assistance, he gradually deciphered the destiny droplets stored within the weapon.
It represented Margot’s fate of receiving stacks of cash from his various underlings. “You have a knack for choosing fates.” Lumian had been occupied with fighting and had delegated the fate exchange to Fallen Mercury.
He had merely informed it beforehand that he needed money.
After commending Fallen Mercury, Lumian grew pensive. How will this fate manifest after the exchange?