funbook-pk Chapter 110 Compassion and Rest
Chapter 110 Compassion and Rest
The desired achievement has been accomplished; now it's time for a celebratory banquet.
Using their respectable attire as an excuse to send their allies away, they returned to the room of the unknown original owner. Kuromon turned his head to look at the floor mirror beside the bed, which was carved with strange chick patterns.
The figure in the mirror was handsome and refined, a perfect blend of gentle Chinese features and deep Western bone structure. It wasn't striking, but it possessed a unique and captivating charm.
Heimen looked at the familiar handsome face in the mirror and breathed a sigh of relief. Although he had been transported to a foreign country, at least he still had his own face.
Subconsciously checking the room for listening devices, and only after confirming that no one was listening did Heimen realize that he had already been tricked to death by that group of rich kids.
Matsushita was wary. He casually picked out a suit that looked reasonably decent and patted his stiff facial muscles.
"Oh my god, I've already transmigrated into a Japanese person, but how did I end up as a capitalist cult war criminal?! This is a disaster!"
For unknown reasons, he was unable to know the original owner's identity from a cognitive perspective, and reading lip movements based on the way others addressed him would only yield random, abstract results.
Fortunately, the original owner's experiences and skill points were inherited smoothly, and his shooting and fencing skills were top-notch.
Hei Men recalled the original owner's appearance before drinking the potion and taking the elixir, and got goosebumps: "I was a young man of 26, and I almost turned into a wrinkled old man with a hooked nose!"
As the eldest son of one of Japan's top conglomerates in this world, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and grew up with it.
He should have been a wealthy young master with no worries about food and clothing and a house full of children and grandchildren. However, after suffering a life-threatening illness in his childhood, he awakened a strong desire for immortality, or more accurately, a kind of obsessive-compulsive desire.
With this goal in mind, the young man embarked on a path of using any means necessary to achieve it.
By the age of 30, his family had established absolute control over criminal networks in Japan and neighboring countries with their immense wealth and iron fist.
At the age of 60, thanks to the start of World War I, he amassed a large fortune and jewels through shipping and smuggling.
During World War II, this nearly 90-year-old man took advantage of the turmoil in his motherland and the world to eliminate dissidents and amass a fortune through means including but not limited to human trafficking, smuggling, assassinating high-ranking officials, and transporting vital intelligence. He was willing to accept anything that could prolong his life, whether it was biological, medical, or even religious metaphysics.
But fate is unpredictable, and time waits for no one. Old friends and old things have all been worn away by the years. Now, at 100 years old, he is already past his prime, but he is far from reaching the threshold of immortality.
"So 'I' went to great lengths, openly spending a fortune to gather talented people from all walks of life in Japan, just to fight to the death. Then, using a sacrificial ritual passed down from some unknown ancient book, I summoned this demon at the cost of the lives of hundreds of people."
'He's practically a real-life version of Karasuma Renya.'
"Are you looking for me?" Raven's figure was reflected on Black Gate's shoulder as he spoke with his deep voice.
It's a little black-boned chicken.
Suppressing his surprise, Kuromon remained expressionless, a smile playing on his lips as he gave a soft hum, his words brimming with confidence: "So you really were eyeing me."
"You are the owner of this castle, so I am your guest, aren't I? As a guest, how can I attend a banquet without bringing a gift!"
The raven did not directly respond to his guess, but cawed loudly a few times: "I will give you a chance. All it takes is the life of an immortal, and you can obtain the recipe for the Elixir of Immortality, which is the panacea!"
"Okay, deal."
"No need to be alarmed, this is a custom that has been passed down from ancient times... Hmm?!"
The long speech he had prepared suddenly caught in his throat. Black Gate's quick agreement made the demon feel somewhat uncomfortable.
As times have progressed, summoners have become harder to fool with each generation. It took him quite a bit of effort to just bewitch the other six people!
"Heh, I'm sure I'm not the only person you suggested, am I?"
With a light laugh, he stroked the demon's feathers, fastened his pure white tie, picked up the bird-head cane beside him, and slowly drew a long sword from it: "Even if I guessed wrong, it doesn't matter, I have no intention of letting them live anyway."
The sharp glint of the blade reflected in his pupils, but strangely, there was neither murderous intent nor hatred.
Calm and indifferent, as if neither the demons now standing on his shoulders to discuss matters, nor his vicious companions, were worth his attention for even a moment.
"Hmm~ I'm so glad you guessed it."
It simply tore off its disguise; the raven on its shoulder suddenly swelled up like a balloon, a scorching black mist seeping from its pores, its scarlet, glowing eyes filled with malice.
"Interesting, are you really ▇▇▇▇?"
This time, it was his turn not to answer. Shaking off the no-longer-cute black chicken, Hei Men stroked the bloodstains on his cheek and asked with a smile, "Just to be on the safe side, can the formula be prepaid?"
"certainly...
If you survive later!
boom! boom! boom!
A series of rapid gunshots shattered the silence. Shotgun pellets pierced the wooden door like a storm, and flying wood chips mixed with gunpowder smoke filled the air, forming a chaotic fog.
Hidden in the corner of the room, Heimen looked at his bleeding abdomen, which had been shot through, and let out a cold laugh in pain.
No wonder that demon kept circling around him as soon as it arrived; it was helping him hold the target position!
The room's furnishings were battered and bruised by the attack, and the walls were riddled with honeycomb-like holes from bullets. A group of burly men in gray, armed with Remington M870 shotguns, advanced into the changing room, firing as they cautiously approached.
"Report! Target missing, no trace found!" A burly man's voice betrayed tension and unease.
"Continue the search!"
Upon hearing his subordinate's report, Ooka spat in annoyance and slammed the head maid who had tipped him off to the ground. The force was so great that the impact with the ground produced a loud thud.
"Useless! You've alerted the enemy with such a good opportunity!"
"Don't say that. She's a master of French cuisine at my mansion."
A lighthearted, cheerful laugh came from behind him, and the unfamiliar tone of the voice made him pause for a few seconds.
Those few seconds of shock became the countdown to his life.
He turned around abruptly, only to see a bloodstained face almost touching his nose; the black door had appeared behind him like a ghost.
Behind him, several of his men were hurriedly wiping away the blood that obscured their vision!
"Goodbye, Addio."
The sharp blade in his hand pierced through Ooka's body without mercy. Using him as a shield, Kuromon turned and charged straight at the thugs whose expressions had changed drastically.
In a short while, apart from the black door, there was no one else standing in the entire room.
After the commotion of the battle subsided, only Ooka's faint groans remained in the room. Kuromon turned to the maid, who was covered in wounds, and asked calmly:
"Are you alright? Can you stand up?"
He wiped the blood from his face, reached out with concern, and helped her up.
The maid struggled to lift her head, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes, but then her gaze froze on the cold, indifferent face of the man in black.
“Those who disobey their master’s wishes and secretly collude with foreign enemies shall be sentenced to death.”
Black Gate's voice was devoid of any emotion. With a sudden swing of his hand, the tip of his knife pierced through the maid's chest, and at the same time, it stabbed through a surviving thug who was trying to get up.
"Please rest in peace."
He then swiftly delivered another blow to minimize the maid's pain before gently closing her eyes and looking at the horrified Ooka on the ground.