Alex gazed calmly at the blood that was spurting between Monroe's fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding. "Messing with my family, threatening the doctor to keep my little sister sick... Your life and your meager wealth hardly count as compensation."
Monroe's eyes reddened with rage. To die as a fighter like him at the hands of a child was something he couldn't accept. He let out a powerful scream that could have burst Alex's eardrums, echoing through the entire house. Luckily, Alex had previously instructed the servants to vacate the premises and was disguised as the portly man; leaving no witnesses was wise.
A blue aura surrounded Monroe's body, forming into a broad, massive sword similar to Chinese jian swords. The sword moved under its wielder's will, cutting through the air and anything in its path. Alex lowered his head, and chunks of his hair flew into the air as the sword attacked him. The sword struck again, and he had no choice but to maneuver.
The speed of the sword increased until suddenly Alex's back was pinned against the wall. Before his eyes, the sword made from the blue aura and its sharp blade came hurtling toward him, slicing through the air. At the last moment, the sword reached the young man's chest, leaving only an inch before penetrating his heart. The blue aura vanished, and the sword disappeared. Alex lifted his gaze to find Monroe on the ground, lifeless.
He took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his forehead. "That was imminent in the past, I mean the future. I didn't care about an attack like this. But this body is still in the Hardening Stage, very weak."
The Sixth was a hybrid, possessing a strong physique. In his previous life, he was responsible for assassination operations in the Incan territory. This allowed him to learn various growth techniques and combat skills. Of course, any fighter could train in combat skills, whether offensive or defensive. But growth techniques that elevated a fighter's level and continued with them for a long time, sometimes throughout their life, needed to be suitable for the trainee's abilities. Due to the experiments the "Plague" had subjected his body to, the Sixth couldn't find any growth technique compatible with his modified body.
His genetic ability for cell regeneration and his skills in illusion magic were his only weapons for survival in that harsh time. But the situation had changed. His extraordinary body was no longer his, and Inca techniques were unsuitable for humans.
Alex thought that even in the seemingly peaceful era he lived in, survival would always belong to the strongest.
Strength and wealth didn't necessarily equate to happiness, but without them, maintaining happiness was impossible. He realized he needed to find a way to become stronger quickly.
He noticed some books hidden in the safe along with the money and smiled again. "I know nothing about human combat techniques. Maybe the late Monroe had some ideas."
The tranquil green village was no longer the same. Two days ago, the news of a nobleman's death and the theft of his money by his own servant had disrupted its peace. Everyone was in panic, but none more so than the doctor. He hadn't fully recovered from the shock of the day when the white-haired assassin had visited him, followed by Monroe's death on the same night. It couldn't be a coincidence. Unintentionally, he found himself transported back to midday two days ago when a young man with white hair like snow barged into his clinic. The doctor felt the danger, but he composed himself, wearing a mask of kindness and dignity, topped with a wide smile.
"No doubt you're Lady Irene's son. You're here to inquire about your sister's condition, I expected your visit. Please, come in."
Without introductions, the dagger pierced the doctor's shoulder. Before he could scream in pain, a hand covered his mouth. The young man lifted his hair, revealing his piercing blue eyes that seemed to spark. "Hush, it's a poisoned dagger. If you don't want to die, start talking. Why did you keep my sister sick?"
Faced with the choking intent to kill and the sensation of poison coursing through his veins, the doctor had no choice but to confess and beg for forgiveness.
"It was noble Monroe. He forced me to do it. Believe me, I wouldn't have harmed a child."
"Alright, let's see if your apology is sincere. I heard you own a second house. Let's consider that compensation, of course, after you do your job and heal my sister."
The doctor had no choice. If the village learned about the situation, the consequences would be dire, not to mention the poison coursing through him. Without knowing the type of poison, he couldn't create the appropriate antidote. With a muffled voice and sweat pouring down his face, he asked, "And what about the antidote?"
"Don't be foolish. Before you pay what you owe, you'll remain at my mercy. This will grant you an extra day." The young man pulled a small bottle from his pocket containing yellow liquid and threw it towards the doctor.
The doctor sighed wistfully, his body still remembering the terror he had witnessed from that young man, who refused to stop trembling. "No room for doubt. That lunatic is the perpetrator. Those eyes are the eyes of a cold-blooded killer."
"Hey, doctor, I've been looking for you."
The doctor's skin prickled, and his body hair stood on end as he snapped out of his thoughts and returned to the harsh reality. His account with the snow-haired murderer was far from settled. "I swear every time I see him, he looks ten years older."
"Hey, doctor, can you lend me a hundred silver coins? I can hardly believe the high prices. Maybe I should find someone else to blackmail."
"Please do that and spare me," the doctor pleaded, pulling out the money, his heart wracked with pain from his loss.
"You know Monroe forced me to keep your sister sick. I've already confessed everything to you."
"And?"
"That's why I'm still alive, but it seems you forgot to mention the money you took from him in exchange for that. That will increase the compensation value."
At the mention of compensation, his face turned pale. It was the same word that had bankrupted him. As Alex's mother had mentioned, he was extremely stingy.
"Perhaps I should have accepted my fate and died by poison. That's easier for me than losing everything."
The doctor's thoughts raced, realizing the precarious situation he was in. The young man had power over him, both through the poison coursing in his veins and through the damning knowledge he possessed. The doctor reluctantly handed over more money, a bitter taste of desperation on his tongue.