Returning to the Mysterious Era-Chapter 255 - Gradually Mutating Kidney

Charles planted his foot firmly on the ground and launched himself at the intruder, throwing a punch at the latter’s face without hesitation.

Pa!

The lightning-fast punch was intercepted by a hand that seemed to come out of nowhere. Charles's momentum was arrested as he went from extreme speed to complete stillness. It felt like his fist had struck solid steel. The force behind his punch had been effortlessly dissipated by his opponent.

"You..."

"Don't misunderstand, I'm on your side." Cassius said evenly as he calmly looked at Charles, whose eyes were wide with shock. He flicked his right hand.

Charles, who had intended to quickly strike with his left hand, was forced to retreat several steps by the overwhelming force that erupted from Cassius's palm.

"Elder."

"Second Elder, are you alright?"

The members of Red Falcon Fist, who had gathered in the living room, rushed over.

In the corner, a petite girl with green hair stood frozen, her almond-shaped eyes wide with astonishment as she stared at Cassius.

After confirming her suspicions, she stepped forward and asked, "Is it really you, Mr. Cassius?"

"Miss Neve." Cassius glanced over and nodded. He vaguely remembered this kind-hearted green-haired girl.

Two minutes later, after Neve explained who Cassius was, everyone quickly believed that he was there to help.

Charles rubbed his shoulder as he apologized, "Mr. Cassius, my apologies. I thought those traitors had broken in..."

"It's fine." Cassius nonchalantly tore an errant strip of black fabric from his shoulder. His new clothes had been reduced to rags after yet another battle.

Charles took a deep breath. "Thank you, sir, for coming to help. The movement of those traitors outside and the gunfire... Was that because you fought your way in, Mr. Cassius? In truth, you didn't need to take such a risk, sir. After all, there were quite a few traitors, not to mention many gunmen from White Rose."

Charles admired Cassius for his courage in breaking through the encirclement, though he felt it wasn't the most strategic move.

"I killed them all."

"Oh, you killed them all, so we can... Wait, what? You killed them all?!" Charles’s voice jumped in volume as his cloudy old eyes widened in shock.

"Yes, I wiped them all out," Cassius replied bluntly, nodding.

"What...?"

"Is that even possible?!"

"No way!"

Behind Charles, the other two elders and several disciples exchanged incredulous glances. They had firsthand experience of the enemy's numbers; one-third of Red Falcon Fist's members had betrayed them, and White Rose had supplied many guns as well.

Neve spoke over the murmurs of disbelief, "Mr. Cassius visited my grandfather in Death Canyon two months ago. They even fought to a draw..."

As soon as her crisp voice rang out, the murmuring stopped abruptly. Neve's grandfather was none other than the former sect master of Red Falcon Fist, Blood Fist Feng Liusi, a formidable combat artist. If Cassius had fought him to a draw, it was clear that he too was a top-tier combat artist!

The title of combat artist represented the pinnacle of the current Covert Martial Arts world. It was the highest level that practitioners could openly aspire to. No one knew the full extent of a combat artist's strength, but the mere title commanded respect and credibility to whatever they did.

Suddenly, everyone's gaze toward Cassius shifted to one of deep respect. Second Elder Charles hadn't expected the dire situation of a moment ago to be resolved so easily.

The sudden shift left him momentarily stunned before he asked the burning question in his mind, "Mr. Cassius, what about Dyson?"

"Who is Dyson?"

"Uh, an old man with a goatee."

"Oh, he's dead." Cassius answered the question simply and directly.

Five minutes later, Cassius, Charles, and Neve walked through the grounds of the Red Falcon Fist headquarters. Blood was everywhere—on the stone pavements, white walls, and green lawns. The semi-coagulated blood on the ground pulled at their feet like glue, each step producing an unsettling, squelching sound.

"You all head that way, check if anyone is still alive in the canteen. You, head over there. There might still be survivors near the training field. Search carefully for any of the captured."

Second Elder Charles divided the group of several dozen people into teams and sent them in different directions. Only Cassius, Charles, and Neve walked toward the central office area where the sect master and elders usually worked. When they turned a corner, a thick stench of blood assaulted their senses. Neve turned pale at the sight ahead and immediately vomited.

Charles was uncomfortable, but he didn’t turn away. He had seen many similar scenes of carnage in his life. There were bodies strewn everywhere, bathed in pools of dark red blood. The severed limbs and mutilated corpses painted a horrific picture of what had occurred.

Bzz, Bzz...

Flies buzzed around the gruesome remains, flitting between the black barrels of guns and the torn bodies of the dead.

Two minutes later, Second Elder Charles found his long-time rival, the Great Elder of Red Falcon Fist, Dyson. Dyson’s neck had clearly been broken, but he showed no other signs of struggle.

This clean and efficient kill was far more terrifying than the other gruesome corpses. It meant that Dyson's opponent had not used any tricks or hesitation. It had just been a swift, decisive strike that left Dyson, a pugilist at the apex of his strength, without any chance to resist. A peak pugilist had been killed just like that.

Charles glanced at the expressionless Cassius beside him. Though Cassius was an ally, Charles couldn't shake the feeling that a terrifying, demonic presence lay beneath the young man's handsome, refined exterior, ready to devour at any moment. This unsettling thought sent a shiver down Charles's spine.

***

Several kilometers away, an ancient-looking estate stood in the heart of a dense forest in the outskirts of Mia City. Some of the long branches rested on the two-meter-high white walls, gently swaying in the breeze. Occasionally, the sound of birds echoed through the forest.

“Ahh!”

A shadowy figure suddenly flew over the wall, crashing through the branches before landing heavily on the ground. He tumbled gracelessly a few times before coughing up blood and expiring.

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Shoong!

Inside the estate, a translucent blue whip shimmered in the sunlight as it wrapped around the neck of a gunman like lightning. A moment later, the gunman was lifted into the air as the whip stiffened. It was as if someone was casually reeling in a fish.

"You were the one who shot me from behind just now, weren't you?" Saint Feinan had a calm smile on his face that showed no signs of anger. The gunman struggled even more violently, his frost-covered hands desperately clutching the whip as his legs kicked like a frog.

"Oh? You've got some guts. Not answering, huh? Then die." Saint Feinan raised an eyebrow, and the whip tightened, tearing the man's head off.

Saint Feinan flicked his whip, splattering blood across the ground. He strode deeper into the estate in his search for the remaining guards. A dozen corpses of gunmen lay scattered in the open courtyard. Some were frozen solid while others had their necks twisted. A few had died with their eyes wide open, while others were flung up and hung on the trees.

In the center of the courtyard, a freshly severed head had been carefully placed atop a torso. The corpse's hands were curled inward slightly, as if it had been holding its own head. The dead man's eyes were wide open, filled with a lingering sense of unwillingness in his final moments.

The facts were clear. When an ordinary person's throat is caught by a whip, they can't speak. They can only mutter helplessly like a mute.

***

Back at the Evil Eye Fist headquarters, the commotion from the morning's events had barely settled. Faint sounds of intense fighting could be heard once again from the back hills of the estate. Large swaths of trees had been snapped by the warring parties, leaving an empty blemish on the otherwise lush green landscape. However, the battle quickly reached a conclusion.

Five minutes later, Justin, the sect master of Evil Eye Fist, who was recovering from his own injuries, was visited by a bedraggled Great Elder Buck. While Buck had originally sustained only minor injuries from the morning's fight, he was currently in a wretched state. A deep gash ran across his chest, deep enough to see bone, and his left arm was missing, leaving only a bloody stump.

Buck had used a Secret Technique to stop the bleeding from his severed arm. He had a grim expression as he said to Justin, "From today onward, Evil Eye Fist will withdraw its forces. The Eastern Alliance plan will be put on hold for a while. Do not act rashly..."

Buck took a deep breath. "Also, I'm going to need at least six months to heal. If anyone asks, just say I'm in seclusion. Especially the other sects of the Eastern Nine Sects! They must not learn that I've been severely injured and lost my arm!"

"Understood," Justin replied.

At the same time, outside the Evil Eye Fist estate, a figure walked along a secluded path, holding a blood-soaked arm. He casually tossed the severed arm into the babbling stream and watched it disappear beneath the waves.

Two days later, the turmoil from September 1 had subsided. Red Falcon Fist had suffered heavy internal losses from the actions of the traitors; however, at least a third of the traitors had been killed, and many disciples were injured. As a result, personnel from other branches were recalled to Mia City to replenish their ranks, and the damaged martial hall buildings were gradually repaired.

For the time being, everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction.

Inside the martial hall, a combat hall made of pale yellow wood stood quietly.

Cassius stood shirtless inside a combat hall within the Red Falcon Fist headquarters. His once-reborn, youthful body was beginning to grow and develop again. His previously weak and soft arms were gradually gaining muscle definition. However, the changes were still subtle, and his figure still appeared slender from a distance. He did not yet have the typical physique of a martial artist.

However, only the Red Falcon Fist disciples serving as sparring partners knew the terrifying strength hidden within that seemingly frail body. They had spent the last two days attacking Cassius with all kinds of weapons, from sharp spears and broadswords to maces and more. Whether it was a cutting weapon or a blunt instrument, none of them had any effect on his body. At most, they left faint white marks on his skin.

The evening before, the sparring partners had tried something different. They all grabbed a spear together, and charged him at full speed to try and pierce Cassius' body. The result? Cassius was unharmed, while the metal spears were bent at a 60-degree angle. They almost resembled question marks.

Cassius hadn’t even budged. Despite the force of four or five large men charging at him, his slender frame was as solid as a mountain. His feet seemed rooted to the ground like an old oak.

Cassius then ordered the sparring partners to use firearms, ranging from pistols to heavy machine guns. It seemed he was conducting a test of his body's resilience.

Inside the hall, Cassius pointed to the first burly man on his left, signaling him to start. The man nodded nervously and raised his pistol.

He aimed at Cassius's chest and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A small spark flashed on Cassius's skin, but it had no effect.

Cassius nodded toward the second man. The man leveled a submachine gun at Cassius.

Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!

The bullets left white streaks on his skin but caused no real harm. Spent bullet casings clattered to the floor.

Cassius turned to the third man. A heavy machine gun roared to life, sending a stream of powerful bullets at Cassius's body. His pale skin took on a faint translucent, jade-like quality, as if it had been encased in a hard shell. Even the heavy machine gun's bullets couldn't pierce him.

After being bombarded from various angles, Cassius's entire body had been tested by bullets. The scent of gunpowder lingered in the air as he signaled them to stop.

"My skin continues to grow more durable, like I've mastered hardening Qigong. But this is the result of my body's ongoing transformation through Golem Covert Martial Arts. The basic stages of Golem transformation involve three key aspects: the Golem's breathing, circulatory system transformation, and heart transformation.

"But now, the Golem Covert Martial Arts seems to be evolving into a fourth stage. My kidneys are... heating up..."

Cassius held his sides, where his kidneys were, as he felt an unusual warmth radiating out.

A sudden, uneasy suspicion crept into his mind.

I won't end up growing a third or fourth kidney, right...?