Axel
patreon
Chapter 91: Flame Dragon's Roaring Bullet
🕑 Added 2025-01-09 23:54:02 +0000 UTCCountless crimson hands, forged from bloodflame, danced wildly across the air, forming intricate gestures one after another.
Charlot’s face lit up with uncontained delight. Harriet truly lived up to his status as a high-rank Transcendent; his vitality was astoundingly robust, allowing him to conjure seven Flame Dragon’s Hands.
The Flame Dragon’s Hand was a technique recorded in the third page of the Vampiric Scroll, but it wasn’t considered a particularly profound secret art. However, conjuring each successive Flame Dragon’s Hand required significantly more time than the previous one—often by one or two years. For ordinary vampires, crafting the first Flame Dragon’s Hand could take three to five years, while the second would demand more than five. As a result, most members of the Adonis Clan would stop after mastering a single hand and focus instead on advancing their rank.
Young high-rank vampires from the Adonis Clan typically possessed only three to five Flame Dragon’s Hands, which was already sufficient for most situations. Only ancient vampires, with their endless lifespans and lack of purpose, would bother conjuring more.
Charlot was not a vampire, and the Protagoras Scrolls didn’t include such details. After all, most practitioners would instinctively realize that the technique consumed far too much time, causing them to give up and focus on higher advancements. Charlot, however, had absorbed the life essence of a high-rank knight and, without encountering any bottlenecks, unknowingly conjured all seven Flame Dragon’s Hands at once. It wasn’t until afterward that he realized he might have gone overboard.
With a single thought, one of Charlot’s Flame Dragon’s Hands swirled its five fingers, materializing a Firequell Silver Rhino. The extraordinary alchemical short gun spun effortlessly, pointing in seven directions—left, right, up, down, and diagonally—as though it was an extension of his own arm.
Another Flame Dragon’s Hand conjured a magical rapier, Blood Rose, which soared through the air like a silver streak of snow. The sword executed Arsilo Swordsmanship to perfection, its unpredictable strikes even more bizarre and fluid than when Charlot wielded it by hand. Every thrust was executed at angles that defied human imagination, as though they came straight from a masterful specter.
Charlot mused to himself, “Is this not the legendary Three Heads and Six Arms? I’ve even got an extra hand! Having two more heads, though, doesn’t seem particularly useful... I’ll pass on that.”
Satisfied after toying with the Flame Dragon’s Hands, Charlot snapped his fingers. The seven blazing hands gradually shrank and flew back to his side, vanishing into nothingness.
With a casual touch to his diary, Charlot received a mental update: the time of the Blood Clan evil god Karnstein's descent had been delayed by eighteen more days.
“The fourth page of the Vampiric Scroll contains the Flame Dragon’s Roaring Bullet—a supernatural ability for firing psionic bullets by hand. It can also be compressed into extraordinary firearms, increasing its power far beyond manual firing.”
“With my ample reserves of blood energy, mastering this technique shouldn’t be difficult—probably one or two months at most.”
“But I already have plenty of ranged attacks. I’ll focus on mastering the Spider Technique first, then consider Flame Dragon’s Roaring Bullet.”
“The Spider Technique shouldn’t take more than two weeks!”
Charlot patted some dirt off his clothes—remnants from the battle—and twisted the labyrinth’s layout. In a single step, he appeared right beside Sylvie Martin.
Sylvie hadn’t expected his sudden appearance. She gripped her dagger tightly and stabbed with all her might. Luckily, Charlot was a fifth-rank Transcendent and had the Swiftstep Technique at his disposal. His body flickered, effortlessly avoiding the strike. Smiling, he said, “No need to be so nervous, cousin Sylvie.”
Seeing it was him, Sylvie exhaled softly, relaxing her grip. “Don’t call me cousin,” she replied irritably.
Charlot shrugged. “I’m afraid, from now on, you’ll have no choice but to be my cousin.”
“Unless we never contact each other again.”
“While you might not care about me, Venie and I will likely have a lot of business together, and you won’t be leaving the Cat Detective Agency anytime soon. Better to accept this title now.”
Sylvie pouted slightly and sighed. “Fine. It’s still easier to accept than my other title.”
Charlot had no idea why Sylvie disliked him so much.
Even the real Charlot Mecklenburg wouldn’t have understood it. His absurd public embarrassment—running naked through the streets while being hunted—had once been witnessed by this former fiancée of his.
Facing the evil god had merely cleared Charlot’s memories; it hadn’t conjured anything that didn’t already exist in his mind.
Still, Charlot didn’t particularly care about her feelings. For a first-class civil servant, Sylvie was quite an excellent marriage candidate: their families were well-matched, their parents were friends, and Sylvie herself was a true beauty, an academy graduate with impeccable character and personality.
However, for a thirty-fourth-grade chief clerk like Charlot, this marriage seemed much less impressive.
Sylvie offered no benefits to his career; at best, she could serve as a supportive housewife. But this young lady refused to embrace such a role—she preferred working outside the home instead.
Traditional teachers like Huang Haisheng would’ve been troubled had Sylvie not rejected the marriage herself. Now, the situation was far easier to manage.
Charlot smiled wryly and led Sylvie to Venie Arsenault. Though the cat elf detective had taken her desert cat form and hidden expertly, even discovering a few secret pathways, she had no chance of evading Charlot—the labyrinth’s master.
Venie meowed twice in astonishment when she saw Charlot appear with Sylvie. Realizing he couldn’t understand her, she rolled on the ground and transformed back into her human form.
“Did you kill Harriet? Are you really a vampire?” Venie asked, suspicious.
Charlot drew Blood Rose and gently ran his hand along its blade, nicking his skin. He presented his palm to Venie, where a thin line of blood slowly welled up. Of course, he wouldn’t open a serious wound—just enough to prove his point.
Venie had doubted the rumors already, but seeing the fresh blood made her even more certain: Charlot couldn’t be a vampire.
Vampires had no blood in their bodies. Even when wounded, they released mist-like blood energy, not liquid blood.
Sylvie grabbed Charlot’s hand, glanced at the shallow wound, and released it indifferently. The injury was far too minor to warrant any bandaging.
Charlot gestured for Venie Arsenault to follow. Leading the two women, he quickly left Machubi.
Both women glanced back at the fortress ruins, each feeling a twinge of emotion.
Neither had truly sensed the labyrinth’s terror; they were merely stunned that a high-rank Transcendent like Harriet Alva had fallen here.
Neither asked how Charlot had defeated Harriet.
Venie figured Charlot had countless secrets, and solving such mysteries was her greatest joy as a detective. Directly asking would be too dull.
Sylvie, on the other hand, simply didn’t care. As long as Charlot was alive, why bother questioning how he managed it? She had no intention of showing too much concern for her former fiancé.
Please take a moment to rate this novel at Novelupdate.
