1772 A Helping Hand

The crazy Demon Hunter was stunned.

His muddled mind failed to understand the meaning of the words that came out from the person inside the carriage but the rage from the bottom of his heart and the urge to slaughter that accompanied the feeling did not decrease a bit.

At the next moment, he jumped into the carriage.

The dagger laced with poison went straight to the person who spoke and plunged deep into his chest.

The surprised smile on the person's face halted for a moment and was followed by a look of relief, as if he had released countless heavy burdens.

"I guess this is right. I owe you all this strike. I should bear the burden," said the person.

Then, with that relieved smile on his face, he hugged the crazy Demon Hunter who had just stabbed him.

The person hugged the crazy Demon Hunter the Northern way: hug tightly and tap the back strongly.

The rhythmic taps were heavy but absent of malicious intent.

The crazy Demon Hunter's instinct was able to tell the difference.

Especially after that stab, the rage in his heart had dissipated away, a sense of logic taking its place, and he started to think.

'Who am I?

Where am I?

What am I doing here?'

However, before he could get the answers to his questions, his ears were filled with the passionate and delighted voice of the hugger.

"Welcome back, my brother."

Amid the voice in his ears, the crazy Demon Hunter couldn't help but widen his mouth.

"B-Brother?" His voice was hoarse and muffled, one could not hear him at all, except if they stood close to him.

"Yes, brother! My brother of Wolf Sect! I knew all of you would never perish in that war, there must be some of you who survived! But please forgive our incompetence, we tried our best yet failed to find out the location where you were held captive. In the end, Colin had to take the risk by making himself bait to lure Silent Night Secret Society into striking. Those bastards were sinister as always, they were trying to make us fight each other, but they seemed to have underestimated our willpower, the will of the Demon Hunter!"

Bloody Mary the Superior Demon was speaking into the crazy Demon Hunter's ears.

A little bit of its demonic illusions were quietly in play as it spoke.

The crazy Demon Hunter calmed down.

Although he had no idea who he was, he knew this person who hugged him bore no ill intentions.

On top of that… there was another person with a cold look sitting in the opposite seat.

Even though this person was expressionless, the presence around him… felt familiar.

It felt like… he too should bear such a presence.

With the title [Demon Hunter] equipped, Kieran sat there quietly and looked at the crazy Demon Hunter's countenance, sighing helplessly.

The lash marks under the sleeves and collar, all 10 fingers without nails, a broken ear and a slash mark on his face. Despite all the horrible wounds having been temporarily cleaned up, the details was enough for Kieran to understand what kind of torture the man had been through in the past.

Inhumane tortures! Otherwise his mental state wouldn't have collapsed.

No! It did not collapse but it was messed up!

It seemed like a soul which did not belong to his body was stuffed inside through a certain experiment.

With Bloody Mary scanning the man, Kieran got more precise information about the man's condition.

Research on souls? Kieran frowned all by himself.

He knew very little about Silent Night Secret Society but judging from Lady Calamity's existence, their power was undoubtedly strong, and now?

The society's danger level had escalated to a new high.

Anything related to the soul was a matter that should not be underestimated.

When his Spirit first broke through into rank V and started to replenish his own body, Kieran already had the resolution and understanding, let alone all kinds of benefits his powerful Spirit brought him during his early game.

Through the power of the contract, his thought was delivered to Bloody Mary and the latter spoke.

"My brother, the pain is in the past now. Leave everything to me, okay?"

Bloody Mary released the crazy Demon Hunter and looked at him with a solemn gaze.

"Don't worry, I can assure you as long that as I am here, you will not be harmed. Anyone who wishes to harm you may go through my dead body!"

The crazy Demon Hunter was already affected by Bloody Mary's [Illusion] without even knowing, and with Bloody Mary's [Demon Instinct], all of the secrets were revealed.

The last sentence dissolved the worries of the crazy Demon Hunter, looking at the dagger embedded in Bloody Mary's chest.

The poisonous dagger was still there.

Bloody Mary smiled as the crazy Demon Hunter stared at it, then simply pulled the dagger out of its chest.

"This little dagger can't hurt me," Bloody Mary tossed the dagger on the table and seated the crazy Demon Hunter before saying softly, "You will fall asleep in a little while but fret not, I am just helping you to find your true self."

The crazy Demon Hunter quickly fell asleep under Bloody Mary's comfort.

Kieran wasn't surprised at all.

For a demon that was a natural in bewitching people, bewitching a single person was a piece of cake, let alone a crazy man.

More so, the demon who bewitched the crazy Demon Hunter was not any demon.

Kieran was self-conscious enough to keep quiet.

After they entered the city gate passage, with Kieran's signal, Borl got off the carriage and sat with Aschenkano in the wagoner's seat. He had no idea what Kieran was doing but he knew keeping quiet would be the best.

Therefore, he specially ordered Aschenkano to drive slower and steadier and to try not to make any noise.

The wagon slowly moved forward, not attracting attention from other people due to the fact wagons were supposed to move slowly inside Edatine, especially around the crowded city gate.

Likewise, Bloody Mary's [Illusion], it too did not attract any unwanted attention.

What changed was only the crazy Demon Hunter's heart.

...

"Anderson! Using a dagger is unlike wielding a sword! A dagger is not suitable for slashing, only stabbing. Whenever you use a dagger to slash, it means that you are in a difficult spot and you should prepare a hand crossbow just for a situation like that, it's much more suitable than a dagger. Of course, you can also equip yourself with a bigger crossbow, but you would have to buy that with money you earned, I don't have extra Gold Purton to spare."

In the empty space in front of a wooden house, a little boy was combing two straw dummies and cleaning a wooden dummy.

The 12 years old Anderson couldn't help but pout when he heard what his teacher said.

He preferred to wield a sword but unfortunately, his teacher was not good at using one, only a dagger.

Therefore, all he could learn were dagger techniques.

Though deep in his heart, Anderson swore that once he was independent enough and able to hunt monsters alone, he would leave and find a better teacher to teach him how to wield a sword.

Of course, he wouldn't tell his current teacher about his future plans.

...

"Anderson, your dagger wielding sucks! It's not a flying knife! You must hold it tight when you attack, don't think about tossing it out. You need to treat it as your best partner, your best brother-in-arms!"

The drunk teacher, with a flask of alcohol and a missing leg, guided Anderson, who was 16 years old at this time.

Anderson did not care about what his teacher said as the teenage stubbornness started to take shape.

He did things his own way as he preferred to toss the dagger and land it on the target's throat.

Dok!

After a clunk of metal and wood, the wooden dummy that Anderson trained with was struck by the flying dagger. Almost half of the iron edge of the dagger plunged into the wood.

Anderson looked at the scene in satisfaction, then glanced over at his teacher with even more delight.

He was sure that even his teacher couldn't achieve this result.

The old Demon Hunter with a missing leg saw it too. Shaking his head, he took a big gulp from his flash and looked up to the moon hanging in the sky, his mind in deep thought.

...

It was another successful hunt.

22 year old Anderson had become a rising Demon Hunter with increasing popularity among the others.

He was known for his technique in the sword, crossbow, and his most skilled one yet, the flying daggers.

After receiving his bounty and buying a barrel of good rum, Anderson headed back home to visit his teacher with two more deer legs in his hand.

"What a lengthy hunt!"

Anderson couldn't hold back his excited feelings as he recalled the hunting trip.

He was eager to tell his teacher about everything that happened.

As a matter of fact, since he was 18, every time after he finished a hunting mission, he would go back to tell his teacher stories. At first his teacher would say a bit but as time went by, the teacher would drink the rum he brought back and listened quietly.

Anderson viewed it as evidence that he had surpassed his teacher.

...

25 years old, Anderson's name gained more popularity by the day but he still did not receive a title that everyone recognized.

Anderson was plagued by this set back, going back to his teacher and grumbling about it before making up his mind to do something big.

Then, he discovered an organization that hid deep in the shadows.

He was prepared to take down this organization alone, and should he succeed, he would get the title that he sought so badly.

...

The process of tracking down the hidden organization was nothing but difficult. There were barely any clues and all Anderson could do was rely on his luck.

He hasn't paid a visit to his teacher for a whole year but he'd send some money back once in a fortnight.

'I hope teacher is fine!

Wait for me! I will return with a real title! And it will be something that even you did not achieve back in your day!'

...

Another year had passed!

Everything came to those who wait!

He finally located the organization's whereabouts!

He eagerly struck but fell into a trap! A trap set up specifically for him!

He was badly wounded, he thought he was done for.

Then, his teacher suddenly appeared before him in a casual manner, with a walking crutch and a flask of rum.

No! It wasn't a sudden appearance! His teacher appeared behind him!

Looking at the grass and dust on his teacher, all the signs pointed to a single fact: his teacher had been following him all along.

"Teacher!"

He opened his mouth with the thought of saying something, but all that came out was a call to his teacher.

His teacher turned around and looked at him, his gaze no longer muddled and blurry, only a sharp gleam flashing over.

"Boy, you shouldn't use a dagger like that."

As the teacher said, he bent down and pulled out the dagger he hid in his only boot.

The tip of the dagger spun on his finger tip, his teacher turning back around and moving his crutch.

"Look closely, I'll teach you again, and this… will be the last."

As the words subsided, his teacher instantly vanished and the 30 men from the organization fell into their own puddle of blood instantaneously.

Cough cough cough.

He was awoken by his teacher's cough.

He charged into battle but was stopped by his teacher.

The dagger was tossed back.

"Boy, you are still very far away."

With the words echoing in his ears, his teacher vanished, dissipating into a thin mist and carried away by the wind.

....

30 years old, Anderson finally got the publicly acknowledged title that he sought after so badly, "Hunting Knife".

There was no sword, only daggers.

One was given to him by his late teacher and the other was forged by his own hands.

He also has a mini hand crossbow and a proper crossbow with him.

Muskets were invented already but he did not like them, they were too troublesome for him.

As for the better quality items among the arsenals?

They were too expensive, he couldn't afford them.

He uncorked the flask with his mouth and drank the low quality rum that his teacher once loved. The clear rum entered his mouth, absent of any kind of fragrance, harsh to the mouth and extremely pungent, like fire burning his mouth, but he liked the burning sensation.

He drank half a bottle in one gulp.

The remaining bottle was poured in front of his teacher's grave.

"I've found the leads on those bastards. They called themselves Silent Night Secret Society. I've killed 137 of them and the next will be 138."

...

"Trap! This is a trap! I've dealt with these bastards before, they would never allow themselves to be caught this easily!" said Anderson loudly.

"Don't worry, I am confident!"

The one who replied was a man, sounding firm and charming as he influenced everyone who heard him.

...

A losing battle.

Looking at his heavily injured comrades and dying brother-in-arms, Anderson tossed his teacher's dagger around. He, too, was heavily injured by an ambushing councilman, the enemy almost breaking all his ribs, but he got a good counterattack by stabbing the councilman in the heart, which was a fatal blow.

Even if the enemy could survive, he would be permanently crippled.

Though, what use would it do, the lost was irreversible.

"Let's go, bring the last seed and leave," Anderson stood up and told the others, who could still move.

Those who were unable to move anymore were aroused by Anderson's words, everyone of them looking lively and flushed as they stood in line with Anderson.

There were no words, no orders, nothing. They stayed behind to buy a chance for their comrade to survive.

Neither were there grudges held, because if the positions were swapped, their comrades would do the same.

...

The dying struggle lasted longer than the final battle.

While they were holding back the enemy, Anderson had no idea how many of his comrades managed to escape, neither did he know how many died, but he found that goal, that goal for people to believe in.

He wanted to charge in and question his target but right before he got to his target, the target vanished into thin air!

His fatal blow missed and he too lost his last bit of strength to fight back.

As he plunged into the ground heads on, that councilman whom he stabbed before and who should be crippled appeared with a ruthless smile on his face.

He knew what this councilman wanted to do to him, therefore he mustered strength and delivered one last strike.

…..

Experiments!

Countless experiments!

His body was badly damaged!

His sanity started to blur out, he knew he was running out of time.

That bastard had stuffed too many evil things into his body, he could barely hang on now.

Then, an opportunity came.

He managed to fake his death and lowered that bastard's guard.

The bastard wanted to chop him into pieces but he managed to ambush the bastard and bit off the bastard's throat.

How ridiculous! In the end, he ended up using the wicked powers stuffed into his body.

The evil things inside his body started to fight over the vessel but how could he let the evil things do what they wanted to his body?

The fire beside him was burning fiercely, the gasolene lamp was on the table.

He broke the gasolene lamp, showered himself with gasolene and jumped towards the fire.

"We who do not belong to the light nor darkness walked along the edge. There is no praise of honor, no songs of hymns, only the pride in our heart."

As he shouted loudly, he and the bunch of evil things inside his body were burned to cinders.

...

He woke up again.

His mind was still blurry.

What was his name again?

The dungeon guard kept interrogating him, the other bastards in his heart were also interrogating him and they were much more anxious than the guards because they too had forgotten who they were.

...

Everything shattered like glass, he was interrogated and beaten up endlessly.

He was angery, he felt rage, he wanted to kill the person in front of him.

His rage merged with the bastards inside his body and it turned him into a frenzied monster, but he was extra weak during lightning.

His weakness was discovered by the guards, so the despicable guards changed their way of interrogation.

The power that had just combined in his body shattered again, splintering into many worthless pieces.

Being imprisoned was considered a treatment for him.

He asked himself who he was every day but got no answers.

It wasn't until that young man appeared, that young man who bore ill intentions.

"Snake Sect… Snake Sect…"

Inside the empty darkness, the crazy Demon Hunter... no, Anderson muttered to himself softly.

He looked down at himself and then at his comrade who stood in front of him.

His comrade looked worried but the gaze was sincere, unlike the ill-intentions of the young man who instigated him.

"We are sorry for not being able to find you earlier, my brother," said the person in front of him.

Anderson looked at him and shook his head slowly.

"Wolf Sect, Anderson," he said.

"Snake Sect, Simon."

Bloody Mary extended its hand for a shake. Anderson was not used to it but still extended his hand. Both of them shook hands and the smile on Bloody Mary's face grew more passionate.

"It's great meeting a Wolf Sect. To be honest, you are much more of a Wolf Sect than that Holuff," Bloody Mary said as it pointed out how fat Holuff was.

Holuff?

He was still alive?

Anderson's mood was lifted when he heard the familiar name.

"Is he well?" Anderson asked.

"Very well, you will know when you see him next time. He is…"

"Huh?"

Bloody Mary feigned a slow reaction as it sized up Anderson.

Under Bloody Mary's gaze, a blood mark came afloat on Anderson's body.

Anderson looked at the marks and then waved at Bloody Mary.

"Don't worry, these are parting gifts. I will make sure I return the favour."

Anderson then wiped away the blood marks and continued asking, "What did you say about Holuff?"

Bloody Mary smiled as it was able to sense everything, bringing Anderson back to the wagon and telling him in a serious tone, "He is gathering up the remaining Demon Hunters! We are planning for a… big counterattack!"