The Weeping Serpent (Part Five)

Volume Two

Title: Chapter 138: The Weeping Serpent (Part Five)

Blades clashed, mirroring shadows.

In the deep of night, two figures intertwined, their similarly shaped weapons dancing with flawless grace. For a brief moment, the torrential rain seemed unable to touch their forms.

Aside from the eerie silence that permeated the battle, it appeared to any observer as an intensely fierce and evenly matched struggle.

Yet, the more Miss Siren fought, the more something felt wrong.

Intensely fierce? Evenly matched?

Was this truly how one would describe a battle between a peak Tier 3 and a late Tier 2 combatant?

Would uttering such words not invite ridicule?

As Miss Siren observed Ewan Campbell’s handsome face, devoid of fear even amidst the fierce battle, and instead growing increasingly fervent and savage, her own expression darkened with grimness.

‘What a joke,’ she thought.

In terms of cultivation, strength, and raw power, she should have held the undeniable advantage.

The only thing her opponent possessed was that inexplicable burst of speed, multiplying severalfold through some unknown technique.

Even with this temporary burst of speed, it only allowed him to slightly outpace her, hardly enough to bridge the substantial gap in their actual strength. Yet, it was precisely this ‘slight advantage’ that was driving her to distraction.

Miss Siren felt as though she were grappling with an eel.

An eel that seemed capable of anticipating her every move!

Throughout the fight, the man before her proved incredibly elusive, never lingering in a strike. He would nimbly evade her attacks, almost as if predicting them, then swiftly slash at her before darting away again.

Why had there been no sound from their weapons for so long?

Because their blades barely collided!

Despite the battle lasting only a minute or two, Miss Siren had already accumulated dozens of wounds. Though none were deep, the burning agony, exacerbated by Elizabeth’s unique characteristics, was pushing her to the brink of madness.

While cultists possessed remarkable vitality, Miss Siren knew she wasn’t immortal. If this continued, she would undoubtedly be bled dry and exhausted to death!

“Why? Why can’t I hit you!”

Miss Siren shrieked, and a chilling, moonlit blue glow suddenly erupted from her scimitar. Ewan’s heart tightened, and he quickly pulled back to dodge.

The icy light cleaved a massive fissure in the ground, its power capable of pulverizing Ewan ten times over.

However, even the most formidable attack was useless if it failed to connect.

Conversely, Miss Siren, having expended too much energy, struggled to expel the lingering holy light from her body. Many of her wounds reopened, turning her into a bloodied mess.

“It seems Miss Siren isn’t quite as confident as before, is she?”

Ewan wiped a streak of blood from the corner of his mouth, grinning widely.

“Do you possess a Demonic Eye?”

“A Demonic Eye is such a rare artifact. How could I possibly have one?”

“Can you foresee the future?”

“The future is elusive and unpredictable. As a mere son of a duke, that’s naturally even more impossible for me.”

“Then why can you evade my attacks?”

Miss Siren, no longer composed, snarled, her eyes burning with ferocity. “Not only that, several times you clearly anticipated my moves!”

“Just a trivial little trick, nothing worth mentioning.”

Ewan chuckled dismissively, seizing the brief lull to quickly crush the magic crystal in his hand, replenishing his nearly depleted magic.

****

To suppress Miss Siren across such a significant tier difference, Ewan certainly wasn’t relying on mere ‘trivial tricks’.

His primary reliance was on the Tenfold Time of the Eternal Clock.

With his own perception of time extended, it wasn’t just his speed that accelerated, but also his thoughts.

This allowed Ewan ample time to react and decipher his opponent’s moves during combat.

And coincidentally, Miss Siren, of all things, chose to fight almost naked, much like characters in certain island nation educational films.

This meant that every muscle contraction, every surge of power, was laid bare before Ewan’s eyes.

Consequently, to Miss Siren, it felt as though he could foresee the future.

As mentioned before, Miss Siren’s direct combat experience was noticeably lacking. Otherwise, against any other peak Tier 3 powerhouse, Ewan would never have been able to gain an advantage through such a cunning method.

Take the adventurer recorded in the Black Book, for instance.

He also fought bare-chested, yet Ewan never dared to judge his moves based on his muscle movements. For true experts, even subtle bodily shifts could be traps designed to lure an enemy.

****

“I underestimated you, Ewan Campbell.”

Miss Siren suddenly took a deep breath, her eyes still clouded with gloom, but her expression gradually calmed.

“Sometimes I truly wonder, are you genuinely the pampered son of a duke? This ruthlessness, this experience, this composure—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you were raised in a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.”

“Heh, people often ask me that, but I suppose some are simply born with exceptional talent, destined to be this way.”

Ewan chuckled, casually brushing her off. His heart, however, began to pound.

Because judging by Miss Siren’s demeanor…

“Originally, time was on my side, but now it seems I cannot afford to delay any longer. Otherwise, you’ll slowly carve me to death, piece by piece.”

Miss Siren spread her arms, her dark hair swirling wildly, and a mesmerizing light suddenly bloomed in her eyes.

It was coming!

Ewan also took a deep breath, his muscles involuntarily tensing. Next, she was surely going to leverage her advantage, unleashing a martial art with her peak Tier 3 cultivation…

“‘Prayer'”

Miss Siren’s voice was cold and plaintive, as if whispering a lament.

But as those two words fell, everything seemed to quieten. Not even the slightest sound of rain could be heard.

It was as if the entire world held its breath, awaiting her next utterance.

“[Oh, Great Lord of the Night, God of Gloom, Silent Moon who wields all shadows and deathly stillness in this world—]”

“[Please answer the call of your humble servant, and bestow your mighty power upon this place.]”

Not a martial art, but… a prayer?

At this moment, watching Miss Siren’s seductive red lips utter those words, Ewan gritted his teeth, cursing inwardly.

‘Damn it, are you already resorting to this? Not even trying a few martial arts first, just dragging out an evil god directly?

‘This is utterly shameless! Where’s the justice in this? A Tier 3 fighting a Tier 2, and you’re shamelessly calling for backup? Have you no dignity!’

Yet, Ewan was powerless to stop Miss Siren’s prayer. He could only watch as she cast a playful glance his way, then clearly articulated the rest of the elegy, word by word.

He felt utterly paralyzed.

Cold moonlight spilled down, breathtakingly beautiful, but Ewan felt no warmth, only an infinite chill freezing his body.

Bathed in the moonlight, Ewan’s shadow stretched long. Then, his shadow began to move on its own, transforming into countless tentacles that wrapped around his body, pulling him towards the ground.

A cacophony filled his ears, as if countless venomous snakes were hissing their forked tongues beside him.

The immense pressure made him feel as though he were trapped in the cold, desolate depths of the ocean, his blood struggling to flow.

Forcibly pinned to the ground, letting the heavy rain lash his face, Ewan silently gazed at the sky. A strange blue moon, casting its indifferent gaze, hung above.

Suddenly, he grinned, raising his barely movable middle finger towards the lofty deity, and uttered a perfectly articulated, quintessential national curse.

“F*ck you.”