Advancement! Power of the Heart! Slash, Slash, Slash!

People always say: eat eyes to sharpen your vision, eat liver to nourish your liver. You replenish whatever you consume. Then what if one wishes to stand above all others? —Then one must eat people. In a man-eating world, if you don't want to be eaten— You have to make yourself tough enough to break their teeth. When this seemingly polite yet fundamentally neurotic one-eared assassin invited Bai Zhou to use his life to complete a grand masterpiece, Bai Zhou knew this man was another adept at "eating people." Though his method of "eating people" differed somewhat— The mask he wore, the ravings about "fire" and "art" spilling from his lips, and the fervent gaze fixed upon Bai Zhou all reminded him of Adjutant Han. "No, no, no, you need not fear! Is death such an inconvenient thing?" Seeing the sneer on Bai Zhou's face, the man wearing the [Vincent van Gogh] mask realized he had been misunderstood and waved his hands repeatedly. "Do you know the stars?" "Stars are the souls of departed poets, but to become a star, you must die!" "Just as we take a train to travel, we board death to reach the stars. The unalterable truth is that while alive, we cannot go to the stars, just as being dead means we cannot catch a train." "Therefore, to me, cholera, the gravel, consumption, and cancer are like heaven's vehicles of transport—just as steamships, buses, and trains are the transport of the mortal realm." "—So do you understand, young man?" "I want to paint using your life because only you possess such potential." "Death is not the end of life. If we can achieve an immortal painting, you and I shall be eternal together!" With that, [Van Gogh] raised his arms and cried out, his voice trembling with manic fervor. "What spans across the ages is art, is—a passionate love for life!" Without a doubt— This was a lunatic. A raving madman lost in his own world. A demented reality rippled outward from him, a blue-green torrent surging like a beast baring fangs and brandishing claws. Bai Zhou got goosebumps. Talking to himself, high-strung, deliberately playing a persona—this man felt somewhat like the Undead General when Bai Zhou first met him. Yet precisely because he had met the "real deal" like Ale, Bai Zhou felt an intense sense of incongruity from this "masked madman." "Are you..." Watching his wildly exaggerated posturing, Bai Zhou blinked and asked, "Are you pretending to be crazy?" "—Hah?" Like a goose seized by the neck, [Van Gogh]'s rambling choked off abruptly. Poetic speeches, passionate love for life— All vanished in the blink of an eye like ruthlessly popped balloons. "Vincent van Gogh—are you imitating him?" Bai Zhou continued to inquire with utmost sincerity. "You aren't really like this yourself, are you? What's the point of acting like him?" "Living behind a mask, surviving as someone else's replica—is this your love for life, your definition of art?" Bai Zhou shook his head. "I don't get it." If you mimic someone else's life, what happens to your own? Yet Bai Zhou keenly realized—perhaps this was a kind of "ritual"? In the mystical world, words, names, and even identities possessed special properties. [Fine Arts Society]. True to its name, it had to be a gathering ground for [Illustrators] and [Painters]. Were all of them such eccentric killers? Under the moonlight, the one-eared masked madman stood frozen. Upon the rigid metal mask, the dull-eyed painted face with bristling stubble stared back at the moon. It was almost comical. Though he stood some distance from Bai Zhou, it looked as though Bai Zhou had him by the throat; his mouth worked for several seconds without producing a sound. Then—he flew into a violent rage. "You..." "You too—" "You don't understand me either!" His raspy roar seemed to detonate in the air. The antique blue suit encasing his gaunt, bony frame swelled unnaturally. "If a painter sees colors differently from others, the rest call him mad!" "Geniuses are always treated this way; I should have known long ago!" "—Your soul is far more foolish and filthy than I imagined!" With a boom, he vaulted from the ground. A blue-green torrent of starry night hoisted him like an ocean wave. Rising five stories into the air, he landed before Bai Zhou, stepping slowly onto the rooftop of the ruined villa. Tap, tap— His walking stick struck the ground. He drew a deep breath and leaned back. "Burn with the flame of your life—" He declared, "And then, become a painting!" The conversation was over. When someone couldn't win with words, they rushed to prove their point with fists. —And so the battle began. Bai Zhou had always seemed remarkably adept at ending conversations, a trait he took some pride in. In truth, he simply couldn't bear to let his ears be assaulted by demonic ramblings any longer. Lunatics were always skilled at dragging others down to their level and beating them with experience, because in the realm of madness, they had far more practice. As half a hypnosis master who had put countless people under, Bai Zhou had no desire to be brainwashed by some random psycho. Yet, as the price for cutting the lecture short— Rumble— The surging torrent flooded the villa's top floor. The lanky masked silhouette stood behind the rushing tide, chanting softly. The suffocating pressure of facing a Rank 4 Extraordinary was indescribable, for they possessed the transformative might to warp reality itself. The masked freak commanding the blue-green torrent matched every ordinary person's fantasy of a "superpowered being" from the cinema. The sort who could fight in an intergalactic war or assemble a "Blue Star Neighborhood Committee of Women Who Love to Argue." In certain circles, they were even hailed as "gods." Before Bai Zhou lay an overwhelming deluge of blue and green; he felt as though he were wrestling an entire demented night sky. How could a mortal fight the heavens? Yet a violet-gold cavalry saber thrust forward. Beneath the masked man's stunned gaze, violet air currents churned, their impossible sharpness tearing clean through the blue-green torrent. What a coincidence. The people of Wancheng feared gods least of all. For anyone playing god or ghost would be nailed to a burning cross. —Nor did they revere heaven and earth. Because their "sky" had already collapsed once before! "Here I come!" Bai Zhou tightened his grip on the hilt. Swish. Right then, the folded silk ribbon tucked in his breast pocket seemed to warm up. Bai Zhou: "?" If you're sleeping, just sleep; why kick off the covers? The ribbon scalded Bai Zhou's chest again. Fine, fine, I'll count you in. —No figure emerged, nor was any power channeled into Bai Zhou. Yet he felt, inexplicably, that he was no longer fighting alone. Just as the Undead General Ale had his legions, Bai Zhou had his own companion. Drawing a deep breath, he brushed a hand over his chest. Then I'll take you with me, and we'll fight shoulder to shoulder— Under the watchful pale moon, Bai Zhou leapt fiercely. Saber edge and revolver roared in unison. Without a trace of hesitation, he plunged into battle against the roaring, heaven-engulfing torrent. The entire villa shook. As the torrent swelled again, Bai Zhou met it head-on with a [Moonblaze Holy Oath Slash]! Boom! A violent clash. The ground quivered beneath their feet. [Moonblaze Holy Oath Slash] vaporized half of the blue-green surge. Yet the torrent regenerated in an instant. Downstairs, countless sunflowers sprouted limbs and scrambled up, swarming toward Bai Zhou in a dark mass. The top floor's concrete finally gave way, and Bai Zhou lost his footing. Together with the masonry slabs and sunflowers, everyone plummeted downward— Inside Branch 36 of the Special Control Bureau, in the conference room. "What! Director Qian and a squad of Swordbearers were completely wiped out?!" "That kid—how did he pull that off?!" Having just received the news from the Major, the officers let out shocked roars that nearly blew the roof off the room. Their eyes bulged wide, feeling an icy chill on their necks—just like when they laid eyes on [Black Box E-1350] on loan from the Louvre. A squad of Swordbearers plus a second lieutenant officer... If any officer present had encountered them, they would have stood a high chance of dying on the spot! If Bai Zhou could annihilate them, he could just as easily lop off their heads. Fortunately, the one who crossed paths with him wasn't any of them, but that hotheaded Old Qian— Still, how was it possible? Hadn't Bai Zhou struggled just to handle Adjutant Han earlier? By no logic should he have suddenly grown this ferocious! "The facts are right before you." "This Bai Zhou has become a grave threat." Tossing a sheaf of reports onto the table, the Major spoke coldly, prompting the officers to lower their heads one after another. The conference room abruptly fell dead silent. "It seems you haven't forgotten what I said." Even indoors, the Major wore dark sunglasses. The corners of his mouth curved into a chilling arc, sending a shiver through the assembly. They scrambled to look up, competing to explain themselves: "There are still a few days left—we'll go hunt him down right now!" "Bai Zhou couldn't have walked away unscathed. Right now might be when he's at his weakest—" "Rest assured, sir! If we all mobilize, we'll definitely take him down!" Terrified of becoming the "useless people" the Major had once described, the officers fought to prove their worth. Yet the Major shook his head. "Bai Zhou's strength exceeded my expectations as well." "The fault does not lie with you; I am well aware." "Therefore—" "Our cooperation will continue." He spoke softly, answered by a series of long, collective exhalations from the officers. The Major gave a slight nod, leaning back into his leather chair. He seemed to relish this sensation of controlling others' emotions. "New clothes are best, but old friends are dearest." "You have already proven your value. I trust you will continue to make better use of it in your respective posts." "As for Bai Zhou—" He surveyed the varied expressions before him, pausing briefly. "I have already arranged for the Fine Arts Society to dispatch someone." "The one deployed is one of the Sixteen Illustrators, [Vincent van Gogh], who specializes in tracking and direct confrontation." The Fine Arts Society! One officer shuddered violently, as if struck by a horrifying thought. The most mysterious, sinister, and untouchable Extraordinary assassin society in Tinghai City's underworld! They took their names from artists—mostly from the Renaissance and Enlightenment eras, with a few from modern times—firmly believing that by borrowing the names of those powerful Extraordinaries through "rituals," they could siphon the power, luck, and even fragmented pathways contained within them. No one knew their true identities. By day, they might be delivery riders braving wind and rain across the city, or impeccably dressed, fastidious café proprietors. Yet by night, the "art" they created made everyone's skin crawl. Every fading of a life was, in their eyes, an exquisite masterpiece. Within that organization, the Sixteen Illustrators and Seven Painters were all renowned top-tier assassins, each possessing a "unique aesthetic" and "creative style." As for the Three Master Painters at the pinnacle— Rumor held that they were three Rank 6 Titled Extraordinaries. That was one of the primary reasons they could remain notoriously infamous in Tinghai City, striking terror into countless Extraordinary factions, yet remain completely elusive and unscathed. —Granted, the Fine Arts Society could not challenge the entire Special Control Bureau. Yet before Branch 36, they were an undeniable colossus that existed only in legends. —Or rather, that was how it used to be. Now, several officers had already met "masters" from the society. They had even watched one of the Master Painters, [Picasso], take action with their own eyes. That was the true source of their cold sweat. They had witnessed that Rank 6 Titled Extraordinary from the Fine Arts Society— Pluck the skulls of several Rank 5 Blood Worship Cult elders clean off like pulling radishes. The spectacle had been utterly horrifying. Who could have guessed that the Major—or rather, the massive conglomerate backing him—would share such intimate ties with the ever-elusive Fine Arts Society? "—This time, no matter what, Bai Zhou will not escape," the Major said. He raised his wrist to check the time on his watch. "By my reckoning, [Van Gogh] should have intercepted Bai Zhou by now." "No doubt we will hear good news right here shortly." "—Everything ends tonight." With that, he tapped the tabletop twice. A server stepped forward at the signal, presenting a champagne flute to each officer. Pop—a bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal champagne was uncorked, fine pearlescent bubbles rising from the neck. "During this period of 'rat catching,' you all have worked hard." The Major raised his glass. Bubbles ascended as the amber-gold liquid swirled against the crystal under the lights. "May our future cooperation remain just as pleasant." He said, "Everything is for our great cause." A crisp, pleasant clink rang out. Glasses touched, the champagne sloshing within. —Taking a sip, the Major set down his glass. He brushed a few flecks of dust from his immaculate, wrinkle-free uniform and said: "Let us wait here patiently for the good news to arrive—" Wreathed in trails of flame and light, the cavalry saber parted the dense fog again and again, leaving churning violet air currents in its wake. "Futile! Futile! Futile, futile, futile!" [Van Gogh] shrieked hysterically. Crisscrossing blade furrows scarred the floor. Yet the surging torrent nearly submerged the entire level, relentlessly encircling Bai Zhou from every side. Not enough! Still not enough! These things could neither be severed nor slain—Bai Zhou's hands were going numb. He knew he had nowhere left to run. The torrent of *The Starry Night* bore down like an entire night sky, boundless and unending, just like when the heavens had collapsed back then. Fortunately, he was no longer that frail, helpless youth. He held a blade in his hand, and his fate was his alone to decide. No one could drag him away with ease anymore—no one. He needed a stronger Holy Oath Slash. He needed the power of the heart! Protection ritual, enhancement ritual, adrenaline stimulation, blessing ritual—over a hundred rituals arranged throughout the villa activated in rapid succession, stacking their boons upon Bai Zhou. It made him feel as if he were about to burst. Curse-weakening ritual, strength-sapping ritual, slowness ritual— They rained down upon [Van Gogh] one after another. Without hesitation or delay, Bai Zhou ignited every shred of spirituality in his body, holding nothing back. Ignite them all! Even as a tearing agony shot through his flesh, he ignored it entirely. In his calm eyes flickered a faint gleam—a light born of his entire life burning bright. The violet air current surged a full two meters out, all of Bai Zhou's mind, spirit, and spirituality funneling into this single strike. Faintly—that solidified spark of spiritual radiance in his heart drifted toward the hand gripping the saber— Rumble— [Van Gogh] drove himself to full throttle, redoubling the power behind *The Starry Night* to settle everything in one decisive stroke. "Become a painting!" he proclaimed. The effect was immediate—the surging blue-green torrent reared to the heavens, swallowing Bai Zhou whole. Van Gogh's face twisted with delight. "Just as I said—" The very next instant, a gleam of blade light flashed. The blue-green torrent corresponded to the "stars" and the "night." The moon was [Van Gogh] himself. Yet at this moment, at the center of the starry night, an incongruous crimson moon abruptly rose. That crimson moon burned with flames. Yet its silhouette looked remarkably like the one that had hung high over Wancheng in the Ruins Realm. Beneath the crimson moon, the starry night began to fracture piece by piece. "What!" [Van Gogh]'s eyes bulged, his mask trembling violently. "How is this possible?!" *The Starry Night* was a secret technique he had painstakingly mastered upon breaking through to Rank 3, further refined after reaching Rank 4. It was impossible for any Rank 3 Extraordinary to tear it apart! That blade! What kind of blade was that?! How could it be an Extraordinary weapon? Damn it, where did all these rituals come from?! And what was that moon? A secret technique? What faction in Tinghai City possessed a secret technique so ferocious?! The torrent was torn asunder, laying bare Bai Zhou within. Bai Zhou swung his saber. He looked at nothing and thought of nothing; he simply swung. The days of pent-up grievance from being hunted to the brink of death, the suffocating oppression of being hounded by an inescapable dragnet—all that bitter fury poured into this single strike! Beneath the moonlight, the saber aura surged skyward! Rank 2 [Adventurer], advancement successful! The power of the "heart" lay right within his grasp— A youth's resolve never weighed easy or hard; it knew only to swing the blade. To hell with your Major or scions, your Swordbearers or Fine Arts Society, your demons, ghosts, or monsters— Boom! Boom! Boom! The long saber swept across the void. Behind the youth, a blazing blood moon descended, ripping the starry night to shreds and illuminating the focused profile of Bai Zhou swinging his blade like a heavy axe. A tempest of steel carved through the starry torrent, just as Prometheus tore free of his iron chains upon the Caucasus Mountains on a night of lightning and thunder. —No matter who you are. Be cut down!!