A dozen breaths ago, with his throat clamped in a death grip, Lynn entered a strange and uncanny state. The agony that had consumed him seemed to drift away rapidly, replaced by a heightened clarity of thought, as if his mind had been set ablaze.
For a fleeting moment, Lynn questioned whether he had already crossed into the realm of the dead.
But no, he could still feel the blood and oxygen struggling to reach his brain, his body slowly losing its vitality.
It wouldn't be long before death truly claimed him.
Yet, faced with such a dire predicament, Lynn found himself surprisingly devoid of fear or panic.
How does one counterattack when suffocated, with life hanging by a thread?
Simple. You fight fire with fire, pain with pain.
If I don't need oxygen, then no one else should breathe either!
Lynn reached out with his mind, sensing the vast, oceanic elements in the void around him. With a single thought, he ensnared the active oxygen molecules, swiftly stripping them from the air.
What happens when someone continues to breathe in a low-oxygen environment?
André was the perfect example.
As ineffective gases flooded his lungs, his blood pressure skyrocketed. Within just a few breaths, the symptoms of oxygen deprivation began to show, and Lynn sharply detected the weakening grip around his neck.
Now is the moment!
Lynn's eyes shot open. His mind, sharpened by the earlier data, calculated the position, reaction, and stance of everyone in the room, even predicting the pressure exerted on his throat based on the angle of André's raised arm.
Countless intricate data points were processed in an instant, allowing Lynn to construct a perfect, three-dimensional map of the room in his mind, leading him to the ideal strike angle.
[Raise the arm, thrust at a 47-degree angle!]
His arm moved as commanded, thrusting the dagger forward. The hulking brute in front of him, already reeling from the severe oxygen deprivation, could only watch helplessly as the blade pierced his throat.
The fragile neck offered no resistance to the sharp blade, and crimson blood gushed out like a fountain, splattering over Lynn's clothes and face.
André's eyes bulged in terror and disbelief as his hands instinctively clutched the gaping wound at his throat, his body collapsing in a lifeless heap.
Without hesitation, Lynn kicked André's corpse towards the stunned Branny, using the momentum to propel himself out of the suffocating zone.
Branny was caught completely off guard by the sudden reversal, his expression frozen in shock. His reaction came a heartbeat too late as he instinctively caught André's falling body. As he registered the ghastly state of his comrade, his pupils contracted, and a cold dread crept up from the pit of his stomach.
The cyanotic face, the blackened lips, and the dilated pupils—all told the tale of someone who had been suffocated before being fatally stabbed.
How could this be?
Branny was terrified. Just moments ago, André had been the one choking Lynn, and yet he had inexplicably suffocated instead. Could this be some strange, self-destructive curse?
Lynn took deep, measured breaths, rapidly restoring strength to his limbs. Being strangled for nearly a minute, coupled with the forced manipulation of so much oxygen, had left his mind throbbing with pain.
Though he had managed to kill one of them by exploiting the principles of asphyxiation, Lynn dared not relax. The brief clash had made him acutely aware of the gap between him and these hunters.
Based on the memories in his mind, these witch hunters were elite fighters, with physical capabilities far beyond that of ordinary men.
The swordsmanship ingrained in Lynn's muscles could hold its own against common thugs, but it fell woefully short against these hunters sent by the church.
A multitude of thoughts flashed through Lynn's mind as a sudden warning echoed.
[Warning: Overload mode has resulted in rapid energy depletion. Estimated shutdown in two minutes and thirty seconds.]
Lynn hesitated for a fraction of a second, realizing that his sudden enhanced control over the elements was due to the aid of his neural network.
In that case... let's try some magic!
Lynn's gaze sharpened as he gripped his bloodstained dagger. His mind reached out once more, his will extending into the air, capturing the hydrogen and oxygen elements...
A sphere of water coalesced in the void, rapidly solidifying into a sharp, gleaming blade of ice.
First Circle Spell—**Frost Blade**!
The icy blade, exuding a chilling aura, shot forward like an arrow. Branny, eyes narrowing, chose not to meet it head-on. His sword slashed out in a diagonal arc, deflecting the blade from its trajectory.
But that brief pause was enough. The spell's preparation was complete. Gray powder floated in Lynn's palm before igniting into a searing ball of flame.
This was another First Circle Spell in Lynn's arsenal—**Fireball**!
The room's temperature soared abruptly. Unlike **Frost Blade**, the power of **Fireball** was far greater.
And in such a confined space, there was nowhere to run!
Branny could smell the stench of death closing in. He swiftly kicked the shattered remains of the cabinet towards the oncoming fireball and then used André's corpse as a shield.
In the next moment, the fireball collided with the debris, exploding in a burst of searing heat that filled the entire room.
Lynn squinted through the swirling smoke, breathing heavily. He had no precise gauge of the spell's power, but from the looks of it, it was at least equivalent to a grenade combined with an incendiary device. Anyone taking a direct hit would be critically injured, if not killed outright.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, a sharp blade cut through the lingering smoke, its gleaming edge reflecting the flames as it slashed towards Lynn.
The strike was shockingly fast. By the time Lynn noticed, the blade was already inches away!
Fortunately, at this moment, thanks to the neural network's connection, Lynn's reflexes were several times faster, and his bodily coordination greatly enhanced. He quickly raised his sword with both hands, one hand bracing the other wrist, his body slightly lowered, with the sword tip pressed against the worn wall beside him.
*Clang!*
A shrill, grating sound echoed in the narrow room. As the two blades clashed, Lynn felt a sharp pain in his wrist, and the sword tip embedded itself deeply into the wall, a thin crack snaking along the blade.
So heavy...
The thought barely registered before Lynn released his grip on the sword, dropping to the ground in a roll, narrowly evading the powerful kick that followed.
The sound of a fierce wind brushed past his head, followed by another dull thud. When Lynn glanced back, he saw that the already battered wall had been dented by the force of the kick.
[Wall impact force approximately 1.75 tons, with a 65% probability of a North American bison collision...]
A flood of data flashed through Lynn's mind, causing his pupils to contract. If he had been hit head-on, his internal organs would have surely ruptured.
Enhanced body? Cyborg? Qi techniques?
Lynn knew all too well that no normal human, regardless of training, could generate such terrifying power with a kick.
This far exceeded the limits of the human body!