Chapter 29: The Academy's Unbelievable Incident (3)

The lizard aberration flicked its tongue, knocking the golden longsword askew, but its tongue was instantly severed by the blade, as if it were shielding a vital spot. Wu Zui’s sword circled in midair, continuing its strike toward the aberration’s head. Suddenly, the hair in Wu Zui’s hand slipped from the creature’s scalp, and the lizard aberration quickly crawled away, evading the blow.

A chilling hiss filled the air.

The fallen hair transformed, becoming as sharp as steel needles, piercing Wu Zui’s left hand until it resembled a sieve. Then, astonishingly, the hair began to grow from his wound. A sword-shaped birthmark on Wu Zui’s left chest glowed, and a thread of crimson flame flickered from his injury, instantly reducing the white hair to ashes.

A raspy, sinister cackle sounded.

Seeing Wu Zui wounded, the lizard aberration uttered its eerie cry, while its shed hair continued to grow rapidly. Both Wu Zui and his companion had been wary of its claws, never expecting this seemingly harmless hair to be so formidable.

“My master hasn’t encountered anything like this. It must be a new breed,” Xiao Ke’ai said, standing to Wu Zui’s left to guard against an attack from that side, now vulnerable because of his injury.

“Damn software, utterly useless! I’ll smash your designers to bits when we get back!” Xiao Ke’ai glanced at Wu Zui’s wounded hand, her anger rising.

“A new breed? Then I’ll slice it to pieces!” Wu Zui declared, and without hesitation, slashed his own left hand. Instantly, crimson flames floated in his palm, and he charged at the aberration.

Xiao Ke’ai followed, launching her own assault. They coordinated, covering each other from left and right. Wu Zui managed to press his left hand onto the lizard aberration’s head.

The crimson flame ignited its skull, and the creature screamed, its claws lashing out at them. Wu Zui and Xiao Ke’ai quickly retreated, leaving the aberration’s reach.

Once they withdrew, the lizard aberration plunged its claws into its own neck, tearing off its burning head. The crimson flame extinguished rapidly for reasons unknown.

Only a two-part corpse remained on the floor.

“Did it kill itself?” Xiao Ke’ai stared at the unmoving aberration, questioning Wu Zui.

“Be careful!” Wu Zui sensed something was wrong. This was a three-star aberration; even with his unusual blood, it shouldn’t die so easily, let alone commit suicide.

Most walls on the fourth floor classroom were battered through by their battle, with Xiao Ke’ai and the lizard aberration responsible for much of the destruction. Inside lay the remains of students and teachers, reduced to fragments.

Xiao Ke’ai gagged, her stomach turning. She had never witnessed such carnage, the stench of blood overwhelming her senses.

Wu Zui searched the classroom ruins, found a cup, and filled it with his own blood. He splashed it at the aberration from afar.

In a flash, the headless corpse dodged—the aberration had been feigning death!

Wu Zui’s relentless attack enraged it. Somehow, it swiftly regrew its head, disregarded Xiao Ke’ai’s hammer blows, and lunged at Wu Zui.

Its once drooping hair now shot toward Wu Zui like steel needles, deflected by his coat, the rest fended off by his sword.

But the lizard aberration’s claws slashed at him; Wu Zui parried with his sword. The golden longsword shattered into three pieces beneath its claws, while five of the aberration’s talons broke, and five deep gashes appeared on Wu Zui’s left arm, exposing bone.

The aberration raised its claws to press the attack, but Xiao Ke’ai struck it with her hammer, sending it sprawling. Where the golden hammer landed, black smoke billowed, and flames flickered on its claws.

Severely wounded, the aberration’s rage-formed confinement began to destabilize. Their magnetic energy reserves were ample; escape would be easy.

“Master, we should withdraw! Your wounds are too severe!” Xiao Ke’ai watched blood still streaming from Wu Zui’s shoulder, her concern evident.

“No worry, it’s spent. If we let it escape, it’ll be even harder to deal with next time! Hand me your hammer—let’s not waste this blood.”

Wu Zui gestured toward the lizard aberration, implying his blood was not so easily gotten.

The aberration’s claws, now wreathed in crimson flames, continued to burn, the fire crawling upward and releasing pungent black smoke.

“Master, your blood!” Xiao Ke’ai was astonished—since when had Wu Zui’s blood become so potent?

Wu Zui coated two hammers with his blood, then swallowed a small white pill—his usual supply of adrenaline.

His wounds began to clot swiftly.

“Don’t be surprised. Here, take this. Let’s finish it! Watch out for its tongue!” Wu Zui handed her a hammer, noting her open-mouthed astonishment.

Each wielding a golden hammer, they mercilessly battered the aberration, which could barely resist. Soon, under the onslaught of flames and golden weapons, it dissolved into nothingness, and the confinement collapsed.

With a clang, Xiao Ke’ai tossed her hammer aside.

“I’m exhausted! That aberration was tougher than any ghost spirit!” She slumped to the ground, utterly spent.

“Get up! You want to relax here and risk your life?” Wu Zui snapped.

“Oh, but I’m really tired, Master!” Xiao Ke’ai complained, but still grabbed her hammer and stood.

Wu Zui well remembered how, right off the plane, they were ambushed by ghost spirits. Their current state was poor; at any moment, the vengeful spirit from the car crash might strike.

“Master, what’s that? It’s sparkling!” Xiao Ke’ai suddenly pointed to where the lizard aberration vanished, where something glimmered.

“Hm?” Wu Zui strode over and picked it up. The shining object was an irregular piece, possibly crystal or glass, about the size of an egg, reflecting sunlight.

“Killing aberrations drops loot? Maybe it helps upgrade our magnetic energy—should we try absorbing it?” Xiao Ke’ai eyed the aberration’s legacy with eager anticipation.

“You think it’s candy? Let the research institute test it. What if something goes wrong if you absorb it yourself?” Wu Zui scolded her.

“Oh!” Xiao Ke’ai shrugged, instantly disappointed.

The confinement fully dissipated. Wu Zui checked briefly; there were no survivors left on the fourth floor of the main building. He turned to Xiao Ke’ai, “Let’s go. Time to write the report. Then I’ll treat you to a meal!”

“Yay! ^_^” Xiao Ke’ai immediately picked up her hammer and followed Wu Zui.

As they drove away, a figure in the sky watched them intently. Wu Zui’s worries were justified—the three-star vengeful spirit from the car crash had indeed been tracking them.

The spirit watched them depart, then plunged into the school building, devouring every trace of lingering resentment. It did not attack the crowd on the playground, but instead pursued the direction in which the pair had left.

One must admit, ghost spirits are cunning. Had it confronted Wu Zui head-on the first time, it might already have fallen to his protagonist’s luck. Yet seeing its persistent fixation, its days may be numbered.

With the monsters gone, ordinary detectives began searching City No. 1 High. Aside from remnants of students, they discovered the lizard aberration’s lair—inside a cement wall on the fourth floor. As for why there were corpses inside the wall, they’d have to ask the school’s contractor.

Thanks to afternoon PE classes, many students were not in the building.

This time, a total of seventy-three teachers and students perished—a tragedy in itself. Among them was Sun Lang, son of Deputy Director Sun Ming of the Provincial Detective Bureau, along with his father’s assigned bodyguard and several cronies.

Wu Zui found himself unable to describe his feelings.

As Wu Zui and Xiao Ke’ai returned to the Bureau to begin their report, Deputy Director Sun’s call came through. Not knowing whose number it was, Wu Zui answered directly.

“Wu Zui! You useless fool, you got my son killed! I swear I’ll make you pay in blood—don’t think being a spirit detective protects you! I have a hundred—”

Wu Zui held the phone away from his ear; Sun’s voice was so loud that Xiao Ke’ai beside him could hear it. She frowned; how could this man have the nerve to call?

“Master…” Xiao Ke’ai pointed at Wu Zui’s phone, signaling him to hand it over.

Wu Zui, unsure what she intended, shrugged; if it was Sun, let her do as she pleased.

Xiao Ke’ai took the phone, laid it flat on the desk, then fetched a detective’s lunch kit—a stainless steel bowl and chopsticks.

She switched the phone to speaker; Sun was still ranting. Then she covered the phone with the bowl, chopsticks poised—she struck.

Duang~ Duang~ Duang~

Each rapid blow produced a clamor loud enough to silence Deputy Director Sun.

After thirty seconds, a pause.

Sun’s voice resumed, “Wu Zui! I—”

Duang~ Duang~ Duang~

Xiao Ke’ai was having a blast; Sun’s speech seemed to cue her percussion.

A few rounds later, Sun finally snapped.

“You win! Beep—beep—”

Just as Xiao Ke’ai prepared for another round, the call ended. Slightly disappointed, she hadn’t had her fill.

Wu Zui couldn’t help but laugh aloud; Xiao Ke’ai’s tactic was impossible to judge—ingenious, effective, and always unexpected.