The red-haired beauty before me was none other than Guliya, the Spirit Training Master I had encountered once before, who appeared in the Spirit Training Card. Although the Wolf King had made significant progress in strength after using the Wish Fruit, he was no match for this formidable woman. However, I was too late to intervene. As the Wolf King launched himself at her with a thunderous charge, Guliya's exquisitely sculpted face remained utterly unperturbed. With a downward motion of her hands, her slender fingers unfurled, and a sphere of colorless energy materialized in her palm. She casually propelled it forward, and the Wolf King was inevitably struck.
His towering frame, over two meters tall, was sent flying by the energy blast, crashing against the wall behind him with a resounding thud, leaving him embedded in the structure. While I had previously done something similar to the Wolf King, the walls of a tin barrack were hardly comparable to reinforced concrete. Guliya's true prowess exceeded my expectations; I could muster a similar energy blast, but only with the support of Max's amplification spells. Given that slight delay, my response could never match Guliya's swiftness and ease.
"Damn it! I used a Wish Fruit aged twelve hundred years, and it was utterly useless. Had I known, I would have made a different wish—whether to transform into a radiant dragon or summon a guardian deity—I wouldn't have to fear this ferocious woman now." After receiving the title of Temporal Guardian, my sole ability was to foresee danger and trace its origin back to the source. Just like when Jack intended to kill me, I could discern his intentions the moment he exuded murderous intent, allowing me to see through his disguise as Maki Shinpu.
I admit this ability is quite useful, but at this moment, I longed to transform into a mighty Tyrannosaurus and thoroughly trample the red-haired enchantress Guliya. Channeling my mental energy, I executed a reverse maneuver, gently lifting the Wolf King's massive form and ensuring he landed safely, avoiding any embarrassment. Maki Shinpu recognized Guliya's identity as well, causing the atmosphere to grow tense.
I cleared my throat and stated calmly, "Let's go!" leading the way out of the basement. The Wolf King's physique was remarkably resilient; despite the fall, he appeared to have no serious injuries, though he limped slightly as he walked, still brimming with vitality.
"I thought after all our battles I could defeat this woman! I never expected to lose so miserably," he lamented. I was slightly taken aback and scolded him, "You recognized Guliya's identity and still charged at her. It seems your penchant for seeking a fight is impossible to change." The Wolf King chuckled, unfazed by my reprimand.
This base was located in France, resembling an ordinary military installation. I had little interest in uncovering the inner workings of this mercenary organization. Shortly, I collected the passport and plane ticket the Demon Mercenary Corps had prepared for me and departed. As Julier had indicated, the corps indeed had a significant number of female members; both Guliya and the female officer who assisted me with my passport were strikingly beautiful, making me reminisce about Lilith, the enchanting Frenchwoman.
My destination was Canada, and I had not inquired about the goals of the Wolf King and Maki Shinpu. After enduring several hours on a flight, I landed on the unfamiliar shores of the Americas. The first thing I did was to change my visa and purchase a ticket back to Hong Kong. To hell with the warrior title from Demon Island; let those ruthless individuals pursue it while I remain an ordinary person.
Perhaps the airport could trace my whereabouts, but once in Hong Kong, I possessed sufficient means to sneak back home. As long as I boarded the train home, I believed no one would ever find me again. One of the benefits of the Demon Island Bank Card was that upon stepping onto the soil of any country, the cash within would automatically convert to the local currency at the international exchange rate. This feature was incredibly convenient; as someone who barely understood English, I wouldn't need to visit a bank to exchange currency. Truly, with this card in hand, I felt I could conquer the world.
Despite the modern transportation being quite efficient, it took me over fifty hours to navigate through the throngs of people and finally exit the train station of the city I had called home for over a decade. "I'm home! Truly home!" Breathing in the familiar air, I leaped with joy, feeling an exhilarating sense of liberation, devoid of any worries.
"I wonder what date it is today and how long I have been gone. My mother must be frantic over my disappearance." I touched my pockets; although I had the Demon Island Bank Card, I carried no cash. While running home wouldn't exhaust me, I still sought the nearest bank.
Having grown accustomed to the prices on Demon Island, I casually requested to withdraw two hundred thousand at the counter while waiting in line. The bank clerk, noticing my age, kindly cautioned, "Young student, do you really have that much money in your account?"
Her timely reminder jolted me back to reality; I suddenly realized the staggering amount on my Demon Island Bank Card. I hurriedly exchanged it for the one I had won from Moz, whispering, "I'm withdrawing from this card; the amount is correct."
The Demon Island Bank Card was a special tier card with unique functionalities that ordinary cards could not match. It allowed for transfers between two different Demon Island Bank Cards without going through the banking system, and when shown to regular people, it merely appeared as a standard credit card issued by the bank. Transferring funds between a Demon Island Bank Card and a regular bank card required no special equipment, offering the convenience of online banking.
Upon confirming my request, the bank clerk promptly processed my transaction. Taking a thick stack of cash, I casually stuffed it into my pocket and strode out of the bank. "What excuse should I concoct to explain my long absence to my parents and school? Should I say I was utterly disillusioned with society, a cynical runaway seeking solace for my spirit? After enduring the harsh realities of life, I finally realized my naivety and returned home in shame..."
I couldn't fabricate a clichéd story about being kidnapped; while a female high school student might have been coerced, a male student would hardly attract such attention. Imagining being purchased by a wealthy woman with a penchant for European boys or a peculiar uncle from Russia seeking a bounty... that would leave a lifelong stain on my reputation, making it impossible to hold my head high.
This thought sent a chill down my spine, causing goosebumps to rise all over me. I ultimately decided to adopt the excuse of having run away. After all, as long as the excuse wasn't the worst possible, it would suffice.