Leveling Up by Executing Monsters

Chapter 138: Chapter 138: Are You Satisfied?

DONG... DONG... DONG...

"Advisor, my apologies for the interruption, but... it is past the time you instructed me to wake you."

The Advisor heard the knocking at the door and slowly surfaced from a state of complete mental shutdown.

He was in a luxurious guest room, reclining on a soft, comfortable chaise lounge, the kind one might find in a therapist’s office. Beside it, a high-end record player with a genuine vinyl record was playing a gentle, soothing symphony.

A glass of expensive red wine, with only a few sips taken, sat nearby, completing the picture of elegance and luxury.

But when he found he couldn’t feel the weight of his arm, he lifted it to look. His entire right forearm was gone, and the remaining stump of his upper arm showed signs of melting, like a half-burnt candle.

This was the new body he had only just acquired last night. It was young and strong, and at his request, had not undergone [Enlightenment]. But it was covered in various symbols and patterns, giving the man a black-and-white appearance and an air of madness and malevolence.

These tattoos were meant to enhance his inspiration and Spiritual Power, at the cost of sacrificing some Rationality and Cognition. For the Advisor’s situation, however, this was a perfect trade-off.

It was just that these tattoos must have been freshly inked, as some spots were still weeping blood. Furthermore, raw, bloody ligature marks were visible on the wrists and ankles, ruining the artistic value of the body art.

Clearly, the body’s previous owner had put up an exceptionally violent and painful struggle.

Even so, the Advisor was still quite satisfied with his new vessel. The inexplicable damage now, however, made him frown. He asked in a low voice:

"Did something happen while I was asleep?"

Due to the unique nature of his body, he had to rest periodically, entering a deep, dreamless sleep where his thoughts came to a complete halt. This state would last for ten hours, and he required elegant music to enhance the quality of this sleep.

This was a choice he had made at Tier Seven, altering his life form into its current, convenient state. Naturally, he had to bear the corresponding price.

This highly inefficient method was the only way for him to regulate his condition, recover his strength, and maintain his mental stability.

Normally, he made no movements in his sleep. For the entire ten hours, his bodily functions would completely cease, as if he were dead.

If the body moved or underwent some kind of change, it meant something abnormal had occurred.

And it wasn’t just his rather satisfactory new body that was amiss—it was also his sleep schedule.

The Advisor glanced at the wall clock in the room. It was almost 8 p.m., far later than his scheduled wake-up time.

Just then, the Advisor heard another knock at the door.

"Advisor?"

"Come in."

The Advisor sat up from the chaise lounge, not at all impatient.

The blacksmith who had received him earlier walked in, holding a large stack of small paper slips. They contained the latest intelligence gathered by the ’Free Style’ Association.

But the first thing the blacksmith did was absolve himself of any blame:

"Sir, you’re finally awake. I tried to wake you several times, but I received no response, so I didn’t dare enter rashly..."

"I know. It’s not your fault. I encountered a special situation."

The Advisor didn’t take his anger out on the man. Instead, he glanced at the paper slips in his hand.

The blacksmith hurriedly explained:

"This morning, more than ten bizarre ’accidents’ occurred in the city in succession..."

He then gave the Advisor a rough description of the situation, and the Advisor listened patiently.

Then he looked down at his own melting right arm and said:

"During my sleep, my power went out of control in an unplanned way."

With that, he glanced at the time again and said decisively:

"Retreat. The Sect’s people will probably find me soon."

"Ah... this..."

The blacksmith was stunned, still not quite grasping the situation.

’Yesterday, I spent ages placating this monster. I was just about to use his fearsome reputation to intimidate the other factions in the Underground City and squeeze some benefits out of them. Why are we suddenly retreating?’

But the Advisor didn’t bother to explain his reasons, simply continuing his orders:

"We’ll split up. Remember to bring my record player and vinyl records."

The blacksmith didn’t dare question the man’s decision and could only order his Claws and Fangs to pack up.

But the ’Free Style’ Association had operated in the Underground City for many years and had amassed a large enterprise. Even just packing the valuables took him more than two hours.

But by then, the Advisor was long gone...

’Dammit, that disloyal monster. Maybe I should just write an anonymous letter?’

The impulse surfaced in the blacksmith’s mind once again.

However, he didn’t actually dare to put pen to paper, nor did he dare ignore the Advisor’s ’suggestion’. He could only furiously order his subordinates to break up and scatter in different directions.

He himself took a few trusted men dressed as blacksmith apprentices, along with the most valuable assets, and fled through the sewers—the fastest route—to a speakeasy in the west of the city.

The bar was a scene of wild debauchery as usual, with a crowd of young people from the west side indulging themselves freely, completely undisturbed.

"Looks like we were fast enough. We got ahead of those hounds."

The blacksmith said, leading his men through the back door of the bar into a secluded dark alley where a steam-powered truck was waiting for their getaway.

But bizarrely, the spot where the truck should have been was empty. Only a puddle of motor oil remained, proving it had once been there.

"Where’s my truck?"

The blacksmith instantly felt that something was wrong.

The next second, he heard a series of synchronized, metallic scraping sounds from all around.

It was the sound of rifles being loaded...

Then, a bright light shone down from above, enveloping the blacksmith and his apprentices. Dozens of gun barrels emerged from the ends of the alley and the windows of the adjacent residences, forming a crossfire that covered every possible angle of escape.

Among them, a few cartoon-style animal masks could be seen.

The Hunters from Saint’s Grace Court had completely surrounded them.

"Dammit..."

The blacksmith cursed under his breath.

The situation was now clear. The Advisor’s so-called ’sudden loss of control’ had indeed drawn the Sect’s forces, and far faster than he’d imagined.

"Surrender, or commit suicide immediately."

A cold command came from the Saint’s Hunters.

Before the blacksmith could make a choice, one of the apprentices behind him raised his hands high and shouted:

"Don’t shoot! We... I surrender! I know who you’re looking for, but the ’Advisor’ isn’t here... Urgh... WAAAH!!!"

He couldn’t finish his sentence before he dropped to his knees and began vomiting blood, continuing until he had coughed up his own internal organs.

Evidently, the Advisor had long since planted some kind of [Curse] on these people. He had never truly trusted them...

In his eyes, the ’Free Style’ Association wasn’t even worthy of being called disposable pawns; they were nothing more than insignificant ants.

For a moment, the blacksmith also wanted to raise his hands and surrender.

But the sight of the apprentice writhing and convulsing in agony on the ground extinguished any such hope.

’If I fight back, I might die, but I also have a chance to escape.’

’Saint’s Grace Court’s main target must be the Advisor. They probably won’t commit too much firepower to a small fry like me. There shouldn’t be a High-ranking Powerhouse here. With my Tier Six strength, I might be able to fight my way out.’

’But if I surrender, I’ll have to face the Advisor’s terrifying and bizarre Curse, and die an extremely painful and miserable death.’

The blacksmith figured out the key points in an instant. He immediately raised his hands and shouted:

"I surrender! I surrender!"

But internally, he was secretly mobilizing his Spiritual Power, preparing for a fight to the death.

As a Tier Six of the [Suffering] system, he had mastered two powerful skills: [Painful Gaze] and [Pain Suppression].

The former could tear an opening for him in the encirclement; the latter could convert his injuries into strength for a short period, allowing him to erupt with astonishing combat power.

Thus, his surrender seemed rather insincere.

And the Saint’s Hunters, for their part, opened fire without hesitation.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

A dense volley of gunfire rang out, and the blacksmith was quickly hit by several bullets.

The apprentices behind him were also wounded to varying degrees. The weakest among them was shot to pieces, riddled with bullets like a honeycomb.

But the blacksmith didn’t sense the power of [Veto] in his wounds.

’This means they’re all rookies! They can’t even imbue their attacks with power. They can’t stop me at all.’

"We have a chance! Charge with me! Kill these hounds!"

The blacksmith roared, converting his injuries into strength. His muscles swelled up as if inflated, and in an instant, he transformed into a monster of bulging flesh.

The bullets fired by the Hunters could no longer harm him, merely leaving faint scratches on his iron-hard skin.

"Too weak! Far too weak... It’s time for you to feel true [Suffering]!"

A savage grin spread across the blacksmith’s face. He leaped up, punched through the wall of a nearby house, and dragged out a Hunter who was hiding behind it to reload. With a casual twist...

He felt a satisfying, crisp sensation in his hands. He instantly grew even more frenzied, leaping about and unleashing various [Suffering]-type abilities, routing the Saint’s Hunters completely.

Gradually, he became completely immersed in the thrill of the slaughter. His Rationality began to destabilize. He could no longer remember how many people he had killed, only that a mountain of corpses had piled up behind him.

’A few hundred? A few thousand?’

’It doesn’t matter. I feel absolutely incredible right now, better than I’ve ever felt in my life. This is my peak.’

’I’m even confident I can slaughter every last ant in the entire Radiant Sect!’

And so, the blacksmith continued his ceaseless slaughter.

Until a butler-like old man suddenly appeared before him, nodding in acknowledgment, and asked:

"Are you satisfied with this [story]?"

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