Chapter 216: The Weeping Serpent (Part 6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 216: The Weeping Serpent (Part 6)
Under the clear, cold moonlight, the middle finger Muen held aloft was exceptionally provocative.
Unfortunately, the Silent Moon didn’t care in the slightest about Muen’s insolence, nor did It bother to ponder the meaning behind his gesture or words. In truth, the Banshee’s prayer—offered at a steep, preemptive price—had only earned a momentary glance from the deity.
The Silent Moon quickly averted Its gaze. The blue moon in the sky remained seductive and alluring, but that soul-shuddering pressure had already dissipated.
However, the shackles binding Muen remained.
This was an Evil God, after all. A mere flicker of Its attention was more than enough to doom a lowly Second-Tier Martial Artist like Muen to eternal damnation.
"Giggle... it seems our dear student Muen has finally learned to be well-behaved."
The Banshee swayed her serpent tail as she approached with an elegant grace. With a lithe bend of her waist, she sat directly atop Muen’s chest.
"Well? Can you still spout those big words from a moment ago?"
"I wasn't spouting big words. As for you..."
Muen stared at the Banshee and suddenly burst into laughter.
"I’m actually quite surprised. You were so terrified that you called the Moon down immediately."
"When facing an enemy like Student Muen, who has an endless supply of trump cards, one can never be too cautious."
The Banshee gave a ravishing smile. Her gaze swept over Muen’s face, and a hint of confusion flickered in her eyes.
"Looking at you, Student Muen... you don't seem afraid at all?"
"Why should I be afraid?"
"You are about to die."
"Is that so? And how do you plan to kill me?"
"How to kill you... let me think..."
The Banshee actually appeared to consider it seriously for a moment.
Then, her gaze suddenly drifted downward.
"It looks... quite sweet. It’s such a pity Anna Kabulin never got to taste it."
The Banshee’s eyes shimmered.
In that moment, the jealousy she had kept buried deep within resurfaced. Her heart began to race with a sudden, restless urge.
She leaned down, tearing open the collar of Muen’s shirt. Her fingers brushed lightly across his chest.
"Since I cannot replace Anna Kabulin as a noble Divine Heir, then perhaps I shall replace her by finishing what she left undone."
The Banshee flicked her forked tongue over her red lips. She looked down into Muen’s eyes and let out a low, throaty giggle.
"Muen Campbell, I am going to... eat your heart."
"Eat... my heart?"
Muen murmured softly.
His gaze turned vacant, as if he had been struck dumb.
The Banshee assumed he had finally understood the meaning of fear, and her smile grew even wider.
But Muen wasn't afraid. He was looking past the Banshee—looking at the sky, the clouds, the moon, and the torrential downpour...
His gaze slowly lowered, settling back on the Banshee.
At that moment, rainwater dripped into his eyes, blurring the world around him.
In his ears, the chaotic noise of the storm persisted. His nose was filled with the scent of blood—both the Banshee’s and his own. As she sat upon his chest, her slender waist appeared exceptionally enchanting through his blurred vision.
A composition saturated with the aura of death manifested before Muen’s eyes. It was so very familiar.
This was... the Prophetic Dream.
"Ha... Hahaha! So that’s it! That’s how it is!"
Muen suddenly broke into a hearty, delighted laugh.
"So it happens here!"
"What are you laughing at?"
The Banshee frowned, puzzled.
Death was imminent. What could possibly be funny?
"I’m happy."
"What is there to be happy about?"
"The worst-case scenario didn't happen. Of course I’m happy. I’d be happy even if I died right now."
Muen’s eyes were brighter than they had ever been, his expression filled with genuine, unfeigned excitement.
This was only natural. Muen’s greatest fear was that the figure in the Prophetic Dream... was his Senior Sister.
He wasn't afraid of actually dying at her hands; he was afraid that she would truly eat his heart and be stained by such foul corruption.
Now, it seemed none of that would happen.
The person in the Prophetic Dream was the Banshee.
Even though he was still in a desperate situation just like in the dream—about to have his heart ripped out and devoured—Muen felt a profound sense of relief.
However, this sincere joy looked quite different in the Banshee’s eyes.
Would a normal person laugh like that right before they died?
"Have you gone mad?"
The Banshee narrowed her eyes.
As a believer of the Silent Moon, she naturally possessed mental abilities, with Suggestion being one of them. With just a slight probe of her senses, she knew Muen wasn't insane.
But if he wasn't mad... why the strange behavior?
When things are out of the ordinary, there must be a catch—especially when dealing with a Duke’s son who possessed an endless stream of trump cards!
And... he just said this wasn't the worst ending...
The Banshee stood up abruptly, scanning her surroundings.
The street, shrouded in darkness, was silent. Even the distant clash between the Silencers and the Moon Beasts had momentarily ceased.
But this tranquility only made the Banshee more uneasy. She had always been cautious, always preparing multiple contingencies, yet she now felt as though the situation was slipping out of her control.
She looked down at Muen and demanded sharply, "What other trump cards do you have?!"
"Trump cards?"
Muen blinked, then arched an eyebrow. "Of course I have trump cards. But did you really think I’d tell you?"
It wasn't a lie.
The Banshee could instantly tell that Muen was speaking the truth.
"Outside help? An artifact? Or... an ambush?"
Muen was pinned in place by the Moon itself, unable to move, let alone escape. That meant... his trump card had to come from the outside!
The Banshee felt more and more certain that something was hiding in the shadows of the alley, or perhaps something was approaching!
"No, I won't let you have your way!"
The Banshee’s expression darkened instantly. She looked at Muen and sneered.
"Who do you think I am? I’ve long since prepared for this. I will not let anyone interrupt my meal!"
With that, she spat out a small orb and tossed it carelessly onto the ground.
In an instant, thick black mist billowed out, gradually forming a hemispherical dome of fog that enveloped the entire ten-meter area.
"This is..."
"This is an artifact bestowed upon me by the Moon itself—an Absolute Isolation System evolved from a portion of His Authority: the Dark Moon Mist!"
The Banshee spoke with fanatical fervor. "The Dark Mist will mask all presence and seal off all perception. Anyone who dares to intrude will lose themselves within the fog. This area has become a dead zone that no one can enter!"
"Mask all presence? Seal off all perception?"
Muen paused, his expression turning somewhat peculiar. "If I may ask... does this 'all' include the power of the gods?"
"Of course," the Banshee sneered. "Even if several Divine Heirs were slaughtering each other in here, the outside world wouldn't notice a thing. So, give up on any hope of being rescued."
"I see."
Muen’s expression became even stranger. After a moment, he let out a long sigh.
"Miss Banshee, I used to think you were a villain through and through, but now I see I was wrong."
"Hmm?"
"I was actually thinking about throwing caution to the wind and self-destructing. But you actually went so far as to pull out such a precious, top-tier treasure just to stop me from doing that. This level of devotion... it truly moves me."
If he could move, Muen would have wiped away a mock tear of gratitude.
The Banshee grew increasingly bewildered.
But in that moment, the unease in her heart did not fade; instead, it grew even more intense.
I’ve already sealed the area off from the inside and out. Why do I still feel this way?
"Whatever!"
The Banshee gritted her teeth, deciding to kill Muen first and worry later.
But just as her hand reached for Muen’s heart...
The sun rose.