"You're dead!" The man's face, half-covered in blood from his forehead, twisted in rage. The red in his eyes grew deeper, and his back bulged, as if something monstrous was about to burst from his clothes.
Bang!
Still gripping the man's hair, Muria mercilessly slammed his head against the wall again, adding a bit more force this time. Half of the man's head embedded into the wall, creating a small dent, and his face began to warp and twist, one of his eyes bulging as he fell into a dazed state. Whatever was swelling on his back stopped.
Muria glanced around, dragging the dazed man into a secluded, shadowy corner. Moments later, Muria emerged, spotless, and continued his hunt for the next target.
As he systematically eliminated the hidden monsters in the bar, the bar's overseers finally realized something was wrong. After reviewing security footage, they quickly identified Muria as the one causing trouble.
"Manager, someone's killing our kind in the bar!" the creature urgently reported, quickly relaying the news to the establishment's owner, who was attending a private gathering.
"Oh? How many are there? How many of our kin have we lost?" The silver-haired middle-aged man glanced at the guests around him, hiding his irritation behind a polite expression.
"It's just one person. So far, five of our kin haven't responded, and we've confirmed the deaths of three."
"Seems we've got a formidable one on our hands. Start clearing out the guests; I'll handle this myself when I get back." The manager stood, addressing the group with a slight, apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry for the interruption, but I must leave for a moment to deal with an issue at my establishment. Let's meet again another time."
The guests at the gathering, an assortment of individuals with different temperaments, exchanged knowing glances and smirks as they watched him go.
"He's got to handle it personally? Sounds like more than a minor issue."
"I have a feeling he'll need our help. If he goes alone, he might die," said an elderly man with a black cloth covering his eyes.
"Are you certain?" The other guests turned to him, their faces tense.
"Would I lie to you?" the old man replied with a rhetorical question.
"Then we'd better go see what's going on. There aren't many mid-level ghouls in this city; we lost one recently. If we lose another, it'll only make things harder for the rest of us."
"But if the government's involved, going there is just suicide," someone cautioned. "I warned him that he was too ostentatious. Gathering so many of our kind in one place for so long… it was only a matter of time before they took action."
"Let's at least check it out," someone else suggested. "If it's not the government, we can decide what to do."
…
Meanwhile, Muria had stopped his silent hunt. He sat calmly in an empty booth, drinking a glass of water. He had already caught the bar manager's attention.
As he waited, the bustling bar began to quiet. Patrons who had come to party were gradually escorted out.
"So they're clearing the place. That makes things simpler." Sitting in his booth, Muria felt a dozen sets of eyes on him, but his expression remained calm.
Not long after, a tall, brawny, silver-haired man sat across from Muria, flanked by ten other men and women.
"My staff tells me someone's causing trouble on my turf. I imagined many things, but I didn't expect a young guy like you. May I have your name?"
Muria raised an eyebrow, then responded, "Zellos Douglas."
"A member of one of the Federation's four great families? No wonder you've got the nerve to kill my people." The silver-haired man looked surprised, and a faintly grave expression crossed his face. The power of a top-tier family was enough to erase any contempt his youthful appearance might invoke.
"Mind telling me why you're here killing my people?" he asked.
"It's a family assessment task," Muria replied casually, his words sparking anger and a trace of fear in the surrounding ghouls.
"Could you elaborate?"
"Clean out all the monsters in this bar," Muria replied, glancing around at the encircling ghouls with a slight smile. "Looks like everyone's here. Let's get started, then. I'd like to get this done and go home to sleep."
"Is there really no room for negotiation?" The silver-haired manager stood slowly, clearly reluctant to provoke someone from a top-tier family.
"Why even ask?" Muria also stood, a faint white aura flaring to life around him, radiating a subtle pressure.
"Brat! You think being a big family's member makes you invincible?" One of the ghouls, a flamboyant man, unfurled his tails, coiling them around his arms as he charged at Muria with fury in his eyes.
Boom!
Unfazed, Muria raised a single finger. A condensed burst of energy shot from his fingertip, striking the ghoul squarely in the forehead. Blood sprayed as a clean hole pierced the man's skull, his life force quickly draining away as he staggered and collapsed.
"You're welcome to come at me together." Muria's expression remained calm. Ever since he had started studying martial arts, he'd aggressively requested resources from his family—powerful cores and hearts of original species, rare plants rich in earth's vitality.
With his family's extensive support, he'd progressed rapidly in martial arts, his aura growing by the day. Following his intense practice in "Celestial Astral Path," he now had an extraordinarily dense internal force.
As Muria saw it, the martial artist who developed "Celestial Astral Path" was brilliant, though lacking the resources to fully perfect it. The technique, designed to cultivate numerous energy rings, treated the human body like a cosmos, with each ring representing a star.
"Alright, since you're so keen on killing us, there's no way we're going to let you get away with it!" The silver-haired manager waved to his followers to attack together. The young man clearly intended to wipe them out, so they may as well take their chances with a full-force assault.
As the ghouls surged forward, Muria drew his White Dawn Spear, sweeping it in a broad arc, leaving streaks of light to deflect most of the incoming attacks. In his other hand, he wielded the Violet Night Sword, launching a dozen slashes, each taking down a low-ranking ghoul in a single stroke.
Sword energy flew and spear arcs swept across the room. In less than ten minutes, Muria had eliminated the majority of his attackers, his aura slightly diminished from the exertion.
Now, he turned his attention to the silver-haired manager, who was by far the greatest threat. Fully transformed, the ghoul was now a beast-like figure, crouching low as he launched ferocious attacks at Muria.
Wherever the ghoul went, walls cracked and floors buckled, leaving destruction in his wake. Ironically, Muria's attacks had left no such marks—each strike precisely landed where he aimed, sparing the surroundings.
"Your body's tough, but I can still cut through," Muria remarked, facing the manager's transformed, monstrous form with ease. Against Muria's precision and skill, even a small opening would mean instant defeat.
After three grueling hours, the mid-level ghoul finally succumbed, his regenerative powers exhausted by Muria's relentless strikes.
"Smart of you to surrender," Muria said, pressing his foot on the chest of the defeated, silver-haired manager, who had reverted to his human form. Muria looked toward the bar's shadowy corner, where he sensed several faint, retreating auras.
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