Gun of Ashes

In the narrow space, the Purifying Flame surged wildly like a pure white furnace, melting the knight's armors on both sides of the corridor, like the dead souls.

In this room, Lorenzo's broad attacks were constrained, but likewise, Dean Lawrence's bizarre speed also had limitations, which was Lorenzo's tactic.

From the start of the battle until now, Dean Lawrence hadn't used his Authority; his fight with Lorenzo relied solely on that ghostly speed and Sword Skill.

Although suppressed by Lorenzo, he still controlled the pace of the battle, coupled with his countless years of experience, Lorenzo could hardly imagine if he had some kind of trump card hidden.

Dean Lawrence was silent, stepping on Lorenzo's rugged Armor, attempting to leap up and slash his head, but the narrow space constrained his speed; Lorenzo didn't even swing his sword but directly raised his fist and smashed.

With a booming impact, Lorenzo shattered the stone bricks above; the entire area was collapsing, but Dean Lawrence had already climbed out through the gap at the moment of breaking.

Dust and flames were everywhere, obscuring Lorenzo's vision, but he didn't stop, closely following Dean Lawrence's tracks to the second floor, but beyond that were a countless swarm of Demons pouncing on them.

Lorenzo didn't expect that there were still Demons here; he originally thought all the Demons were killed when he released the Purifying Flame in the courtyard, but didn't expect so many were still hiding here.

But this was not a concern; in Lorenzo's current state, these Demons posed no threat at all; at this moment, he was a walking Death God, and the attack of these Demons was merely a moth into the flame.

But suddenly a scarlet figure appeared among the Demon group.

"Lawrence!"

Lorenzo roared, slashing his sword down, Dean Lawrence seemingly trying to blend into the Demon group to ambush him; the sword strike fell, and it was the red-robed Demon that met death.

Without any warning, the sharp Nail Sword slashed from top to bottom, sparking continuously on Lorenzo's spine with piercing shrieks.

"So solid..."

Dean Lawrence looked at the sword mark on the Armor, merely a shallow white mark.

He didn't understand how Lorenzo managed it; clearly, his Secret Blood hadn't further awakened, yet his Armor became increasingly reinforced. If it had the original hardness of the Armor, Dean Lawrence's sword would not only have sliced through the solid Armor but also severed Lorenzo inside.

Like hunting prey, slashing through the skin and flesh, and the more crucial spine within.

"Or maybe I've gotten old?"

Dean Lawrence muttered to himself, looking at the turned Lorenzo, his voice was a lightly written regret.

People must bow to age, even though Secret Blood surged within him, this Secret Blood had also aged as he lived long enough; Dean Lawrence wasn't too sure if Secret Blood had the concept of aging, but even if it didn't age, one's will would gradually grow old.

Dean Lawrence never forgot his ideals; relying on them, he endured the loneliness of the ages. If there were any changes, it was rather that the fury in his youth was gone, replaced with the cautious coldness of an old fox.

Sometimes he quite envied young men like Lorenzo, their flame still burned fiercely.

The sharp sword light flashed by, but this time it was tightly grasped by a Black Armor-covered hand.

In the burning sea of flames, Dean Lawrence was somewhat surprised; previously, Lorenzo's offensives were all traceable, and even the thought pattern of the battle was easy to guess since he came from the Demon Hunting Order, and all his battle knowledge originated from Dean Lawrence.

But now there were new techniques appearing; he didn't even think Lorenzo would prioritize relinquishing offense to disarm him.

Lorenzo roared.

Since all my techniques originated from Dean Lawrence, there's no need to use those learned from the Demon Hunting Order; simply fighting with one's will, that's all, like a beast, following instinct to kill.

Unyielding power came from the Nail Sword; Lorenzo pulled the Nail Sword closer to Dean Lawrence, and the Great Sword fell like a hammer.

The metallic tremors assaulted the eardrums, a symphony of iron tools.

Scattered dust and flames once again obscured vision, Lorenzo wasn't sure if he had hit Dean Lawrence, but he still gripped the Nail Sword tightly, judging from the sensation from the other end, Dean Lawrence was still restrained before him.

Then like a mad rhino, the heavy Armor drove Dean Lawrence before its sword like a war chariot, crashing through layers of walls, finally smashing even the great stone pillars under the dome.

For ordinary people, these continuous impacts were enough to crush them into pulp, but Lorenzo wasn't willing to stop; this wasn't enough, not enough to kill a mysterious Dean.

The chariot silhouette crashed out of the castle, returning to the rear courtyard, the smoke and dust cleared, Dean Lawrence clutched his sword tightly, covered in blood and grime, looking extremely wretched.

But Dean Lawrence still hadn't let go of the Nail Sword, unlike Lorenzo, Medanzo's Authority could derive weapons from Iron Armor, just like the Great Sword in Lorenzo's hand; rather than a sword blade, it's more like a sword-shaped armor plate, possessing vitality, continually growing new metal in the crevices.

The Nail Sword was the only weapon Dean Lawrence had; before the attack fell, he twisted the Nail Sword forcefully, and the sturdy sword body shattered in response under the influence of two abnormal strengths. As he dragged the Broken Sword backward, the flaming Iron Cavalry didn't intend to let him go.

Black and scarlet figures intertwined repeatedly, sparking splendid sparks in each clash, and the final intertwined heavy blow raised a thousand layers of flames.

The two retreated slowly, stopping at opposite ends of the courtyard, as if it were a mid-battle break, the lush lawn already scorched, ashes flying like slender grass.

The Secret Blood had reached a critical level, 30% awakening, which was the last control Lorenzo had. Once it exceeded the critical level, Watson might breakthrough containment with the corrosion.

But this wasn't enough; he was different from that early deceased predecessor — a true world-class strongman capable of containing Watson perfectly within him, much like a battery, continually powering him.

Thinking of this, Lorenzo couldn't help but smile bitterly, after all, he was the head of the Medanzo Demon Hunters, or to put it... he could be called Medanzo, even though he didn't like the name.

Demon Hunters had different branches based on their Authority, each branch named after an Angel, and the most perfect weapon among them would bear the Angel's name, just like the Michael who was besieged to death by the Holy Hall Knight Order.

"What a terrifying power, why not try to awaken the Secret Blood further? You could have done better."

Dean Lawrence gripped the mottled Nail Sword, looking at the demon-like Black Knight on the other end; he clearly discerned Lorenzo's awakening level of Secret Blood. He didn't understand why he just stopped at 30%; if Lorenzo further awakened to 60% and entered the second-stage Demonization, Dean Lawrence might have been suppressed or even killed the moment they crossed swords.

But he didn't do it, as if fearing something.

"I'm beginning to think you resemble someone."

Dean Lawrence stared at Lorenzo, without breaking the critical level but suddenly gaining such strong power. No, this wasn't even power; it was simply that his application of Secret Blood became more adept. This time, the beast's power was no longer driven by human will but by the beast itself.

The rugged Armor slightly trembled then cracked; like iron filings peeling off, the material began to shed as if it were a life form's molting, the old Iron Armor falling away, revealing more solid, heavier, and harsher new material beneath.

"Death God?"

A twisted, mocking voice came from beneath the Armor, and for a moment, Dean Lawrence wasn't sure if the life beneath the Armor was even human, like some specter wearing an Armor, coming from the distant past seeking revenge.