299 Unable to Help Himself (2/2)

This was no longer a street fight. It was complete war. All resistance was laughable before a proper army.

The darkness of downtown was spotted with firelight. Amidst the fire, a horn was blown and the armored soldiers hoisted their spears to break down the defenses and buildings. They left a trail of rubble and dust. All resisters were pierced by the spears and tossed to the side. Snaking trails of blood formed red police lines that blinded anyone who saw.

The violent gangs of downtown could not unite to form any sizeable resistance at the short notice. They were squashed easily and turned into carcasses littered on the ground.

Thunderous booms sounded continuously. Those were the terrifying sounds of cannons flattening buildings. One could faintly hear pained cries before they were cut off. All that remained were the dull clanks of armor. The sound of metal echoed in the chaotic darkness. As well as the sound of dripping blood.

Another armor plate was torn apart in a ravaged alley. A hole appeared in the chest and blood spurted out. A heart was crushed by an invisible hand.

Ghosthand panted and roared.

Boom! The armored soldier flew out and crashed into the crowd. He upended the incoming soldiers.

Ghosthand sucked in the foul air. The rotting scent of the sea and the decayed odor of the sewer entered his lungs like fire burning at the remains. Merely breathing hurt like fire.

His mottled white hair was dyed red by blood. His torn shirt revealed ghastly wounds. Creamy blood flowed across his invisible hand, sketching the contour of his broken limb. The hand was not fixed; it kept changing. Sometimes it was a human hand, other times it was a claw with scales on the five sharp nails—terrifying.

”Fourth time.” He breathed heavily as his legs trembled. He truly was old now. This was only the fourth time.

Within a short few minutes, the garrison had charged four times. No matter how many fully armed soldiers charged, they were pulverized when they reached this old man. Without exception, they were like waves crashing onto a reef.

The mill was on the right and the steel mill’s warehouse was on the right. These two large buildings sandwiched the small alley and the narrow terrain was his biggest advantage. No matter how many charged forward, he would only have to face a few. He could deal with them easily without fearing the large masses.

However…he could not retreat.

He could not let anyone pass…

Roaring, he stepped forward. Brushing past the blades, he forced himself into the soldiers’ arms. The invisible ghost hand sank into a neck. With a crisp crack, it was shattered and the soldier’s neck was broken.

Then the soldier shook. Holes appeared on his back and a crossbow arrow pierced through his chest. Stuck in the armor, it was only a hair’s breadth away from his eyes.

Ghosthand bent down and dodged an incoming sword. His hands closed around the blade. He turned and the blade shattered. Following his hands, it pierced through the helmet, through the skull, and wedged in the brain. Another soldier fell.

A broadsword hacked at his shoulder, jamming into bone. Ghosthand roared. His invisible hand twisted and yanked the soldier’s head off as if there were no joints.

The wind howled. A strong arrow was close to his face before the invisible hand grasped it. Sparks flew; it brushed past his face and dug into the chest of the soldier behind him.

Blood splattered like rain. A flurry of blades streaked through the air under chaotic clashing. Howling sounded endlessly. Finally, only the bloody old man remained standing in the alley.

He painfully yanked a dagger out from his leg. He pushed himself up from the two piles of corpses and stood up. His glare at Ingmar was chilling.

”Ingmar, you’ve wasted too much time.” The man in a gray cloak behind Ingmar raised his head.

Ingmar shuddered. He stuttered out, ”Mi-mister Sparrow, I just…Mr. Robin told me to…”

”Enough. Robin isn’t here. I’m in charge of the parliament.”

The Sparrow moved past him and glared at Ghosthand, who was surrounded. He looked past the man, saw through the wall, and looked into the dark room. His brows furrowed. ”That dying old man is the Shaman?” He scoffed. ”I always thought he was just hidden but I didn’t know…he really is dying. Ugh, how disappointing.” The Sparrow raised his hand. ”No need to fear anymore. Fire the arrows!”

Thus, chilling whistles sounded in the darkness.