It was like the reappearance of hell, everywhere filled with distortion and chaos. Under the effect of the hallucinogens, all objects seemed to come alive, countless faces growing from them, wearing a hundred expressions, screaming loudly in pain.

  The short figure was extremely like a gaunt ghost, and the straight rapier became twisted under the hallucinations, as if it were a living white snake.

  This had once been an arena, where gladiators stood in the dark underground, listening to the cheers from the ground, and bathing in the first ray of dim light as the chains of the elevator tightened.

  Now everything here was so similar to that time; the two were like iron-blooded gladiators, and only one could survive.

  Without any warning, the rapier shot forward. The swordsmanship was as maimed as Sabo himself—one could barely make out some traces of technique, but it was more like a stolen craft with his own skills added.

  The blades collided, the clear sound shaking the eardrums. Burton gripped the sword handle tightly and then slid the cane-sword to one side.

  This was a technique in swordsmanship called deflection: changing the direction of the sword at the moment of collision to redirect momentum, thus altering the direction of the opponent’s blade force. Of course, the importance of this technique was not defense, but to build momentum while defending. The opponent would be slow to defend due to being unable to withdraw their strength, and the gap in this defense was the fatal opening.

  Burton saw that fatal opening. The rapier swiped past his side, and the cane-sword rose taking advantage of the momentum and then slashed down fiercely, as powerful as the blade of a guillotine.

  Sabo had no time to defend. His short body twisted hard to pull out the rapier, and then dazzling sparks exploded.

  Leaping back nimbly, Sabo looked at Burton with some trepidation, his arm numbed by the huge force. It was hard to imagine that this detective actually had such great strength.

  This attack ended with Burton’s victory.

  Sabo looked down at his rapier; there was a visible chip on the blade, exactly where Burton had struck. If his cane-sword had been a bit heavier, like a normal blade, that strike would have decapitated Sabo along with the rapier.

  "Do priests also learn swordsmanship?"

  This was simply not something a detective could know, let alone a priest.

  "In Firenze, a priest is essentially just a class, like those Templar Knights. Most of them were priests before being promoted to knights."

  Slowly raising the cane-sword, the tip drooping forward, this was one of the stances in swordsmanship.

  "Courage, strength, skill, and… cunning!"

  Few knew these were the four principles of swordsmanship: the courage to swing the sword, the strength to break steel, the deadly skill, and the insidious cunning. In the end, this was a killing technique; so-called honor was just a fig leaf for self-comfort after killing.

  Stomping forward fiercely, the sword descended like thunder.

  That was the howl of breaking air, which under the distortion of hallucinations was like the wailing of the souls killed by the sword.

  Sabo’s short figure became gaunt. He knew he couldn’t block this sword strike, but in this moment of thinking, the white light slashed down.

  Red smoke exploded as the sword fell, and the treacherous rapier attacked from within it.

  The cane-sword barely caught the attack, but the rapier was like a snake: after failing to strike, it twisted bizarrely and stabbed Burton.

  The two grappled in the chaotic hallucinations, letting out beast-like roars.

  The black dress was slashed open, and a large amount of blood spilled out. After this strike, Burton suddenly did not retreat but advanced. In his twisted vision, he stretched out his hand and firmly grasped that white snake.

  Sabo was startled as Burton caught the swift rapier. He seemed not to expect Burton could keep up with his sword in this situation, but that was all. The blade’s edge was a broken saw blade; as long as he pulled it out quickly, he could directly cut off Burton’s palm.

  Sabo pulled hard, but the blade did not move at all in Burton’s hand. Lack of strength was his weakness; because of this weakness, Burton firmly clamped the blade, then swung the cane-sword.

  Before firearms and cannons dominated the battlefield, the battlefield was ruled by warhorses and knights in iron armor. Unlike guns and cannons, which injured on contact and killed on hit, the duels of knights hundreds of years ago were cumbersome—basically, two people in dozens of pounds of iron armor ramming into each other.

  With the iron-smelting technology of that time, sword blades simply could not penetrate that heavy armor, so swords were mostly symbols of status. The truly useful weapons were blunt instruments that directly shattered internal organs. But even so, there were still people who specialized in swordsmanship, using blunt swords to break iron armor.

  This was one of those techniques: gripping the enemy’s weapon with one’s hand, sacrificing a cut to the hand to take the enemy’s life.

  So Burton gripped the blade and pulled it toward himself, then swung the cane-sword. This was a sure strike, unless Sabo abandoned the weapon. But if he did, with only those few fingers, he could not fight Burton, or even fire a gun.

  The short figure was like a child’s. The cane-sword swung down with a howling wind, landing precisely but striking the ground.

  Doubt only stayed in Burton’s mind for a moment; he understood that the hallucination had misled his judgment. The next second, the blurred black shadow rolled, and the strength in the hand holding the rapier loosened—Sabo had abandoned the sword.

  This was not a good omen. Although he had only known Sabo for less than an hour, Burton knew exactly what kind of person he was. Sabo was the type to gamble everything to win, having lost almost all his fingers for it. A desperate man like this would not admit defeat. The fact that he had released his rapier could only mean he had another weapon.

  His body flipped rapidly. Although Sabo was a freak, in close combat, his short stature was now extremely deadly.

  That was a piercing pain, coming directly from Burton’s back. As he had thought, Sabo still had a weapon: a blade attached to his elbow. Since he had no fingers, he used his joints; every part was deadly.

  "Compared to a detective, I think you’d have a better future as a swordsmanship teacher."

  Though verbally praising, Sabo did not hesitate to act. Like a spinning whirlwind, Sabo left several wounds on Burton in just a few breaths.

  "No need. So-called swordsmanship is just a relic of the old era."

  Burton’s voice was cold, showing no fear at all.

  He suddenly remembered a night in Firenze, when his swordsmanship teacher had wept while drinking wine. When Burton asked what was wrong, he said he was thinking of his own teacher. At that time, after continuous improvements, firearms had become extremely powerful. The old master had said to him that the era of swordsmanship was over, and that in the future, the battlefield would be dominated by firearms and cannons, with so-called swordsmanship becoming nothing but a performance to please nobles.

  Enduring the pain in his hand, he swung both swords down fiercely in a wide arc. In the twisted hallucinations, Sabo was forced back step by step. Then Burton threw the rapier in his hand, attempting to pierce Sabo.

  "Why? It’s a pity for such a technique to be lost."

  Sabo still thought he could kill Burton. In his view, Burton’s action was a mistake. With his few remaining fingers, he easily caught the hurtling rapier and twirled it into flower-like patterns. The sword was back in his hand, but only then did Sabo see that Burton had raised his hand.

  Blood flowed unstoppably, soaking the shotgun’s short handle. Whether due to hallucinations or not, this weapon seemed to have come to life, swallowing Burton’s blood, so that the delicate patterns on it seemed to have come alive.

  "Because times have changed, Sabo."

  Burton’s voice was hoarse. To aim at Sabo, he had first abandoned the rapier, barely correcting his mistake in its trajectory, then pulled the trigger.

  The times had changed; the old era was gone forever. One either obeyed fate or died.

  The conical barrage was like a rain of arrows, and a momentary flame surged from the muzzle, as if a red dragon was breathing out its breath. Sabo tried his best to dodge to one side while raising the rapier to protect his heart. As long as his heart was still beating, he could continue fighting.

  But it was all in vain; no human could be faster than bullets propelled by gunpowder.

  After the fatal exchange, Sabo’s half-body was covered in blood, with blood gushing from several bullet holes.

  The kinetic energy carried by the bullets restricted his movements; he slowed down.

  Pulling the trigger again, the thunderous firing continued until Sabo’s body was torn to pieces. His already broken body swayed unsteadily, continuously pushed back by the impact of the bullets, finally leaning on the rapier to barely stand at the edge of the platform.

  "It seems I still won."

  Burton emptied the bullets and slowly lowered the shotgun, his gaze slightly cold.

  Sabo lowered his head, vomiting blood. The real pain made him extremely lucid. Although he was about to die, he suddenly let out a hoarse laugh, his voice carrying an indescribable demonic quality as he looked at Burton.

  "This isn’t over yet, Detective," he said like a stubborn child.

  "But you’re about to die."

  That figure was so disheveled that Burton simply could not believe he could survive.

  "Yes, which is why it’s so terrifying, isn’t it? Death is far from the end of the story."

  Struggling to lift his body, more blood gushed from the bullet holes as Sabo moved. It was hard to imagine how so much blood could pour from a human body, as if endless.

  "Run, Great Detective. The result of facing it is like flipping a coin."

  Behind the strange steel mask, his pupils were filled with madness. He scrutinized Eve beside him, the girl’s eyes filled with horror as she tightly clutched that coin.

  "One side is death, and the other is madness."