Chapter 337: 337.Henrik
The monster’s bloodthirsty growl that originally came from its throat had now turned into a wounded whimper.
This kick was a basic move from the [Immortal Peak Temple Martial Arts], and members of the Lonely Shadow Group were also fond of using this spear-like kicking technique.
In the hands of those purple-clothed ninjas, this kick could generally send an adult flying five to six meters, shattering their internal organs completely.
After Lann crushed the monster’s backward-bending ankle, the beast, with its abnormally dense fur, was suddenly a head shorter.
The Demon Hunter’s hand was now just at the height of the monster’s head.
So Lann decisively pressed the monster’s face and slammed it straight into the wall!
With a dull "thud" sound, blue bricks on the alley wall shook loose a heap of dust from the gaps.
The monster’s thick fur turned gray as a result.
Its head was hit, and in the monster’s brief dizziness, Lann’s hand didn’t stop.
He withdrew his palm’s heel, pushing the monster’s elbow from the outside inward.
The long thin arm’s forearm got stuck on the alley wall edge, with the upper arm pinned, forming a lever structure.
Under Lann’s palm’s force, there was another bone-cracking sound, making one’s teeth ache, as the monster’s arm bent into an upside-down ’V’ shape, and the metal pipe in its hand wobbled weakly, lacking any power base.
From the moment the monster rushed out of the alley, within a split second of confrontation, Mentos had already completed the combat strategy based on the terrain and the opponent’s body structure.
Following the combat plan, Lann swiftly neutralized the monster’s threat within five seconds without any surprises.
Even until now, Lann couldn’t estimate how strong the monster was.
Because from start to finish, Mentos’s combat strategy never allowed them a direct confrontation.
It was all about timing and technique.
And in these two attributes, Lann undoubtedly and overwhelmingly crushed the confused-minded monster.
Real combat, aside from some special circumstances, usually starts suddenly and ends just as abruptly.
Long drawn-out struggles would exhaust a person to death.
"Are you still conscious, sir?"
Lann pressed the monster’s head against the blue brick wall, calmly asking.
In the Magic World, werewolves could retain rationality, with even cases where werewolves, feeling guilty after harming someone, would not resist when they saw a Demon Hunter.
Lann hoped this creature was merely disoriented by its beast’s nature at the moment of transformation.
But without a doubt, this hope was dashed.
The monster’s cheek rubbed against the wall, not because Lann was pressing, but because it desperately twisted its body, seemingly trying to break Lann’s skin at any cost, letting the blood flow out.
As it were, a normal werewolf should have come back to their senses by this point... It seems this one’s mind is completely no longer human.
Lann shook his head helplessly.
His foot stepped on the backward-bending joint trailing on the ground, his hand pressed on the opponent’s head.
And the hand holding Aron Dite didn’t hesitate anymore, thrusting upward from the lower abdominal side. The blade’s tip penetrated through to the other side of its body at the collarbone position.
His hand twisted the hilt left and right twice, the steel inside the body grinding against bones, producing a ’crackling’ sound.
Then the Demon Hunter felt the body, which had been struggling non-stop, suddenly go limp under his hand.
The beast-like ragged breathing quieted down too.
"Sss~"
Lann pulled the long sword from the monster’s body, giving it a flick, leaving a harsh splatter-like bloodstain on the wall.
He raised the Lady of the Lake’s Sword to his eyes for a look before sheathing it again.
The Lady of the Lake’s Sword remained untainted by blood or dust, but the blood on the wall affirmed to Lann that his previous scent detection had not been wrong.
It was thick, viscous, foul... human blood.
"This blood is abnormal."
Lann murmured to himself. Even werewolf blood shouldn’t undergo such changes.
After his soliloquy, the young man’s slightly glowing cat eyes turned towards the other end of the alley where a piece of darkness, sheltered by buildings, lay.
"Do you know what’s going on here, sir?"
As Lann calmly asked, the sound of leather boots treading on brick ground echoed from that darkness.
A man wearing an overall yellow leather coat, with a tricorn hat, stepped out from the shadows.
He wore a short cape over his coat, and on top of the cape was a string-tied yellow mask. This combination with the tricorn hat only revealed the line of his eyes, obscuring his age.
Covered in large amounts of blood, that distinct stench and viscous texture matched precisely with what Lann had flicked onto the wall.
Yet the most striking feature wasn’t his Victorian-style attire, but what he was holding in his hand.
It was a grotesque serrated blade, still dripping with flesh and blood remnants.
"Heh..." The man in the yellow coat first sized Lann up and down, issuing a sigh not quite clear if it was relief or mockery.
"Someone still possesses rationality... No, not quite right. After all, you actually asked a beastified patient whether he still had rationality."
Lann frowned, not because of the other’s mockery, but due to his voice.
He had to be at least fifty; still doing combat-related work at this age?
"I’m not a local, forgive me."
He spoke politely, spreading his hands, indicating he bore no hostility.
But in his left hand, he casually held a Yakxi Rune gesture. Its specialness wasn’t apparent.
He didn’t hope the Yakxi could control the other; that’s unrealistic. He just wished to confuse the other momentarily if an attack were to happen.
This was an insurance policy.
Fortunately, although the other’s tone wasn’t friendly, his actions showed he hung the grotesque serrated blade back onto his hip.
"An outsider. That much I could tell."
He said this while slightly sniffing under his mask.
"No incense scent, the foul monster blood was newly stained, and your blood... Hmm, has a single scent, un-injected. Clearly an outsider."
"My name is Henrik. No need for a handshake. I saw you slam that beastified patient’s head into the wall; your hand-to-hand combat technique is quite skillful. This distance is just right for mutual reassurance."
The fifty-something voice spoke calmly.
At his age, openly expressing suspicion wouldn’t feel awkward.
Lann retracted his hand understandingly and didn’t approach any closer, only nodding at him.
"Alright then, Henrik, as you say. You can just call me Lann. You mentioned you could smell the blood in my body? I haven’t bled though?"
"It doesn’t matter whether you’ve bled or not, Lann." Henrik dismissively waved his hand. "It’s just that in Yan’an, everyone is particularly sensitive to blood. You ought to understand since you’re probably here for the fame of the ’Land of Blood Therapy’, right?"
"Are these cat eyes the illness you seek to heal? Strange symptoms truly are endless these days."