Chapter 145 : Born Madman
Chapter 145: Born Madman
A hobby? A goddamn hobby...
Even Han Su felt it was absurd. He glanced at the Jackal and couldn't help but feel a little sympathy, also recalling the origin of Bowl-Cut Boy’s nickname “The Ripper” told to him by the Chubby Guy outside.
He let out a sigh and said, “That’s quite a niche hobby you’ve got.”
A sudden thought struck him: could his appearance here be part of Miss Ai’s arrangement too?
Knowing that these three D7 members would attack him, while wanting him to fight them, she might have feared he couldn't handle it.
So she had arranged for this Bowl-Cut Boy to watch and hunt these three D7s?
He looked at the now-lowered head of Bowl-Cut Boy, who was engrossed in his task, deep in thought. If not for what he'd experienced as a child, he wouldn’t have understood this guy at all now.
As for the instant when Bowl-Cut Boy struck down the Jackal, it wasn’t enough to clearly judge his capabilities—especially not how he compared to Wei Lan. And with mental activity levels that were disturbingly high…
Han Su steadied his thoughts and smiled as he asked, “So, your mission this time—was it specifically for those three?”
Bowl-Cut Boy stayed silent, focused on his work.
Han Su asked, “Why do you have this sort of hobby? Any particular reason?”
Still no response.
He had been like this since childhood.
Earning his trust was extremely difficult.
But angering him easily didn’t seem that simple either...
If that’s the case, then there’s only one thing left to do…
Facing the utterly focused Bowl-Cut Boy, Han Su suddenly smiled and said, “I know you. Your name is Chen Ji.”
Bowl-Cut Boy kept working.
Han Su continued, “Your killings were reported in the news. I even saw you kill someone live on camera.”
Still expressionless, Bowl-Cut Boy let a spurt of blood splash onto his own face. He seemed annoyed by the interruption but still remained polite, not uttering a single curse.
Han Su said again, “There were many reports about you in the media, but regarding your hobbies, they all said you had only three since childhood.”
“One was arson…”
“From candy wrappers to pillows, clothes, curtains…”
“…”
Bowl-Cut Boy’s eyes suddenly narrowed. The air grew thick with an almost unbearable sense of oppression. Invisible vibrations turned into countless unseen blades, slicing through everyone’s skin.
‘This guy’s mental activity… has it grown so strong it can warp space and directly harm others?’
Han Su’s heart turned wary, but he still smiled and calmly continued, “The second one was gardening. You only liked being with flowers and plants…”
“…But you would stab every ant that approached your flowerpots to death.”
“…”
Bowl-Cut Boy’s hands froze. He slowly turned his head, expressionless, to look at Han Su.
Han Su went on slowly, “Including butterflies, bees, and even… your grandma’s Chihuahua!”
Whoosh!
At that moment, Bowl-Cut Boy lunged.
It was as if he had skipped the process of rising—just vanished from his seated position and appeared above Han Su in an instant. His cuffed hands came down hard, aiming to strangle Han Su’s neck.
Han Su’s left hand suddenly curled into a hook, vaguely showing a bronze hue, and shot toward Bowl-Cut Boy’s neck.
It looked like a brutal exchange of injuries.
But Han Su’s left hand was clearly far more dangerous than Bowl-Cut Boy’s cuffed hands.
Bowl-Cut Boy suddenly released his grip, letting the iron chains hidden in his sleeves clatter loose. Midair, he wrapped the chain around Han Su’s left hand and yanked hard.
Using the force of his landing, he tried to drag Han Su down with him.
As he landed, his toes slammed down, sending a piece of rebar flying.
He grabbed it midair with both hands, spun around, and thrust it at Han Su.
If Han Su were dragged down, the rebar would stab into his face.
If not, it would be aimed straight at his gut.
“This guy’s using nothing but physical skill and the traits granted by his mental activity… no encrypted spells at all…”
Han Su was already a bit shocked. Just how high was Bowl-Cut Boy’s mental activity?
He twisted his waist in time—the rebar grazed his clothes. Then, flipping his left hand, he caught the chain wrapped around his arm and yanked it forward. His right hand opened wide and pressed down.
‘This guy should be revealing his real strength by now, right?’
‘…’
But unexpectedly, nothing.
Bowl-Cut Boy suddenly lowered his head and smashed it into Han Su’s right hand.
The impact was unbelievably strong, making Han Su’s wrist go numb.
At the same time, with a flick of his cuffed left hand, the rebar flew up, and Bowl-Cut Boy bit down on it.
Then he spun, as if wielding a blade in his mouth.
The sharp rebar whistled past Han Su’s neck.
Less than half a centimeter closer, and it would’ve slashed his throat.
Even Han Su broke into a slight sweat. The danger was beyond expectation.
If he hadn’t trained his reflexes through so many encounters at the Ancient Castle, he might already be dead.
If this guy’s hands weren’t cuffed, or if he had a real blade in his mouth, his head might’ve been severed.
‘But why isn’t he using encrypted spells at all?’
Han Su suddenly steeled his resolve. His expression relaxed even more as he dodged and smiled, “Third, until the age of ten…”
Whoosh!
Han Su felt the air density around Bowl-Cut Boy suddenly shift—his heightened mental activity affecting spatial vibrations.
He quickly recited Fisherman’s Chant in his mind, activating his spiritual power, which surged into his right eye and triggered the power of Giant’s Eye.
This power followed his gaze. It was unavoidable. Its damage built gradually from the surface inward—the longer he stared, the stronger it became. Perfect for forcing someone back.
But unexpectedly, Bowl-Cut Boy charged right into the Giant’s Eye.
Under its gaze, his baggy prison uniform burst apart, revealing well-toned abs.
His head was bald, crisscrossed with scars.
His body was marked with huge, rough scars—some thirty centimeters long, others ten—crudely stitched, still threaded with black sutures.
Seeing all those scars, Han Su froze slightly. The white glow in his eyes dimmed. Bowl-Cut Boy suddenly stopped and slowly turned to look at him.
His eyes had turned pitch-black. His mouth stretched grotesquely at both corners.
The next second, a line of stitches in the middle of his chest snapped.
The wound opened up, becoming a mouth—complete with rows of teeth and a red tongue.
Dense, indistinct sounds poured from this mouth. The air filled with sharp, invisible creases, as if something buried deep in space was waking up.
The air reeked of rot, as if everything was decaying and aging rapidly—accompanied by a strange, old cackling.
Bowl-Cut Boy’s eyes turned ghostly white, black lines crawling over his skin. His expression twisted monstrously. His shackles shattered into pieces.
His speed became surreal, reaching Han Su in an instant.
“What the hell is hidden inside this guy’s body?”
Han Su was struck by an overwhelming sense of danger—an indescribable intuition.
Bowl-Cut Boy hadn’t used any encrypted spell. He seemed to have skipped that step.
He now...
...wasn’t human!!
That thought inexplicably surfaced. But every cell in Han Su’s body fired up. He dodged to the side, lunged, grabbed the briefcase he'd placed in the corner, and blocked.
Spinning around, he found Bowl-Cut Boy’s monstrous, grinning face inches away, his black-thread-covered hand lunging forward.
That strike hit precisely where Han Su had stored the mechanical fragment. As it made contact with the case, Han Su pushed his spiritual power into it.
Instantly, both of them heard tight “tick-tock tick-tock” sounds.
Han Su had anticipated this day when he chose to carry the mechanical fragment with him.
The case could block others from sensing or spying on the fragment—but couldn’t stop its own pollution from leaking out.
Even back when both Han Su and Wei Lan wore gloves, they were still contaminated by the fragment. The essence was the same.
Bowl-Cut Boy’s vicious face suddenly froze—as if all his bones had been pulled out. His body slumped slightly.
Yet he held himself up with one hand on the ground, refusing to collapse.
But as the fragment's pollution seeped into him through the case, the malice on his face faded, replaced by distortion, terror, and a hint of confusion.
Han Su didn’t act hastily. He let Bowl-Cut Boy press down on the briefcase. Only when he saw his pupils contract and his face shift between confusion and clarity did he step back with a smile.
He said warmly, “Long time no see!”