The man who had crushed the steel ball was a middle-aged figure clad in a protective suit, his hair a grayish-brown. Wrinkles clustered at the corners of his eyes, showing that he was no longer young, yet his face was hardened by an unmistakable cruelty.
Hearing the doll's question, his gaze turned sharper and far more dangerous. He gave a cold, sinister smile. "I do. If you want it, come take it yourself."
Cane in hand, the doll rose from the chair.
The gunmen standing behind the sheriff had been watching him warily all along. Seeing him move, they raised their pistols one after another. The sheriff, meanwhile, cautiously stepped backward—this was a fight he had no intention of getting involved in.
He didn't know why this Blood Cane had suddenly grown a spine, but it didn't matter. If the bastard refused to yield, he would just have to learn a lesson the hard way.
At worst, it would just cost a little more pay to settle things once and for all. Swallowing his reluctance, he said to the middle-aged man, "Kill him, and I'll double your fee!"
Hearing this, the middle-aged man looked satisfied. The casual, going-through-the-motions demeanor he had shown a moment ago vanished, replaced by sudden seriousness.
The doll paid none of this any mind. He took several steps forward, then abruptly leaped into the air, bringing his cane crashing down toward the middle-aged man!
The middle-aged man was caught off guard by the sheer burst of speed. The doll was fast—fast enough that he genuinely seemed to be a third limit fighter. His guard went up at once. If the opponent truly was at that level, doubling his pay wouldn't be nearly enough.
Still, the fight had already started, so he could only demand more after the job was done. He carried no weapon, but both of his forearms were clad in bracers. Warily gauging the incoming force, he raised a single arm to meet the blow.
*Crack!* The wooden cane struck the bracer. Hearing the armor fracture beneath the impact, his arm sank under the sheer weight. A jolt of shock went through him—*such immense strength?*
Clearly, that was no ordinary cane. It had to be a mutated weapon entwined with mutated tissue!
The realization spurred him into immediate action. He closed the distance at once, seeking to drag the doll into a clinch. He was an immigrant from the Church State of Noros, and his greatest specialty was grappling and wrestling. Once he was inside, the match would be entirely in his element.
Yet the moment he launched himself forward, he felt his arm yanked sideways. The doll had struck with the crook of the cane, and with a swift twist, the hooked handle had caught neatly around the crook of his elbow. Now it pulled outward. The force behind the pull was not overwhelmingly heavy, but it seemed to have anticipated his forward rush with pinpoint accuracy, instantly throwing his center of gravity off balance.
The middle-aged man's heart skipped a beat. A seasoned veteran of combat, he knew he had miscalculated. Resisting head-on would be foolish, so he immediately moved to roll with the pull. If he couldn't get in, he would disengage, reset, and look for another opening.
Yet just as he threw his weight into the motion, the pulling force on the cane abruptly vanished. The sudden absence left him off balance and deeply unsettled. Without the tension he had planned to roll against, his momentum faltered, forcing his body into an instinctive readjustment that cost him a crucial beat.
While he stumbled through these consecutive missteps, the doll remained completely in his own rhythm. Stepping forward, the doll drove a kick upward. Seeing it coming, the middle-aged man reflexively braced his core and brought both arms up to shield his head and face, intending to weather the blow. But the doll followed with a one-handed shove. A surging force akin to capturing jin permeated straight through his defenses. Numbness flared through his entire body, and he was lifted off his feet into the air.
Before alarm could fully set in, he saw the doll leap up from the ground as well. Raising the cane high, the doll brought it slamming down. A violent shockwave rattled through his skull, and all consciousness vanished.
To the onlookers, the entire exchange lasted only a single exchange: the middle-aged man was swept into the air, and then the hooked handle of the cane smashed into the back of his skull. With a wet *crack*, his head was pulverized into mush. The headless body fell to the ground like a dead fish, limbs twitching uncontrollably in the dirt.
In merely a single clash, the middle-aged man had been slaughtered.
The sight left the sheriff completely stunned. Then the doll turned his eyes toward him. A violent shudder went through the sheriff, and the gunmen behind him panicked under the crushing tension. Unable to take the pressure, one of them fired a shot forward. That single gunshot served as a signal; instantly, every gunman present began firing frantically at the silhouette.
*Damn it!* the sheriff cursed inwardly, scrambling toward the vehicles. He had intended to dive inside, but a figure smashed violently against the windshield, spiderwebbing the glass. Hot, reeking blood sprayed across his face. Terrified out of his wits, he stumbled forward a few more steps and ducked behind one of the cars, crouching low.
The barrage of gunfire lasted less than four seconds before abruptly falling dead silent. Breathing heavily, his heart pounded against his ribs like a drum.
Moments later, he saw one of his subordinates stumble backward past him, collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud. The man's neck had been crushed, and his dilated pupils stared blankly at him.
The sheriff's heart leaped into his throat. Then, from the side of the car, a shadow slowly emerged.
Gritting his teeth, he rose from behind the vehicle with both hands raised, plastering an ingratiating, harmless smile across his face.
"M-Mr. Blood Cane, I didn't tell them to shoot! They acted on their own! H-hey, can we settle this? I can give you everything I have! Even the nutritional paste—I have plenty of nutritional paste!"
Cane in hand, dripping with blood and viscera, the doll walked up slowly and asked, "Where is it?"
The sheriff blurted out at once, "At my house! A-and in the cars, there's some in the cars too! In the last vehicle, the one Mr. Valerav was in—there's some in there!"
The obsequious smile was still frozen on his face when the doll swung the cane downward. With a sharp crack, his head burst apart. His body swayed twice before toppling backward.
The doll flicked the liquid from the cane. Once he resolved to act, he showed no mercy. As for what consequences this might bring, he did not care to think about it now; he would deal with them when they arrived.
However, the violent burst of movement had torn his outer garments and shoes to shreds. Fortunately, the protective suit beneath remained intact. Reaching down, he simply stripped away the ruined outerwear, kicked off his broken shoes, and walked barefoot toward the rearmost car.
Thick plumes of white steam billowed from his body, venting the immense heat built up within.
Normally, he kept the activity of his mutated tissue to an absolute minimum to conserve energy and prolong his existence. But facing formidable opponents required brief, massive bursts of power. Not only did this shorten his operational time, it also brought a grave danger: the risk of losing the delicate balance between mind and body.
Yet it was something he had to do. It was essential for survival, and he needed to discover a sustainable equilibrium between the two. He did not know why he sought this, only that an instinctual drive compelled him forward.
Reaching the final car, he opened the door. His eyes settled on a small briefcase inside. Pulling it out, he crushed the mechanical lock with bare hands and flipped open the lid. Inside lay a tight array of pharmaceuticals and nutritional paste. Judging by the labels, every single one was premium-grade.
This was the payment the sheriff had just handed over to the middle-aged man. It had barely cooled before falling into his hands.
He retrieved a pack of nutritional paste, tore it open, and swallowed it down. The high-grade nourishment intended for the third limit swiftly quelled the gnawing hunger deep within his frame.
The mutated tissue that had shown faint signs of instability during the fight quickly settled back into place. As he tore open another pack and consumed it, more mutated tissue began to sprout and spread into various parts of his body, repairing and reinforcing the areas that had been stressed and weakened.
At the same time, he felt the span of his remaining existence lengthen.
Yet this was still not enough.
He needed greater challenges, more battles, and far more nutrition.
Turning back, he said, "I'm leaving." He was merely informing the children; whether they agreed or not, he would depart.
Hearing his words, several of the youths and children broke down into tears. "Mr. Blood Cane, please don't leave us behind!"
"No!"
The young man stepped forward, facing the gathered crowd. "Mr. Blood Cane is doing the right thing! The sheriff is dead, and a fighter died too. Center City will definitely send people. Mr. Blood Cane can't stay here any longer!
"Besides, he has already helped us so much and taught us so many things. We can't hold him back. From now on, we have to stand on our own feet."
He paused, looking at the sniffling, weeping youths, and added, "Let's help him pack his things."
Though grief weighed heavily on them, the harsh realities of life had forced them to mature long ago. They moved swiftly to clear the scene, gathering everything of use and loading it into the trunk of the car beside the doll, including firearms and ammunition.
A few perceptive youths noticed his ruined clothing and immediately brought forward a fresh set of clothes and shoes they had prepared for him in advance.
After putting them on, the doll looked at the children and youths. Walking over to a box on the side, he picked up a few pieces of charcoal and began drawing on the wall.
The youngsters watched in silence as he sketched out flawless, standard martial stances, along with detailed instructions on their practical applications and the medicinal formulas required to train them.
Only after completing the drawings did the doll feel at ease. Tossing the remaining charcoal aside, he turned and walked toward the car. As he pulled the car door open, he paused slightly and glanced back.
A timid, tender voice called out, "Goodbye, Mr. Blood Cane!"
"Mr. Blood Cane, don't forget about us!"
"Goodbye, Mr. Blood Cane! Safe travels!"
One young voice rose after another.
The doll heard them. He knew that everyone seemed to need a name. Since he had to have one, Blood Cane would do. He climbed into the car. With a low engine rumble, the headlights flared to life. The vehicle slowly started, turned around, and rolled away under the reluctant, tearful gazes of the youths.
Chapter 1097