Chapter 125: The Tools in the Morgue Are Really Handy
Saul tried his best to keep his breathing steady, his face expressionless as he slowly sat up.
"I hope that big ship didn't come looking for me," Saul muttered under his breath, as if trying to comfort himself.
He didn’t know the exact identity of his enemies, but they were most likely from that ship.
And that three-masted sailing ship was very likely a Landship.
According to the diary’s hints, whether or not Saul admitted that Bill was the killer, they wouldn’t spare his life.
Saul waited for a while. Even though he couldn't see anything, he was certain that the floating head with the extendable neck was hovering right in front of him.
If he reached out, he might just touch a patch of cold skin.
But Saul couldn't just keep waiting there.
He had been lying there for two hours already, and he wasn’t sure how much patience his enemy had left.
Once his opponent decided that Saul couldn't lead them to his companions, they would likely lose patience and capture him for interrogation.
And if Saul tried to escape while the enemy was still on guard, he would have no chance.
He had to come up with a plan.
He needed to create distance from his opponent, then find a way to escape as quickly as possible.
There wasn’t much time left for Saul.
Although he couldn’t see his enemy, they clearly had a way to see in the dark and were keeping a close watch on him.
Saul thought of several plans, but most were immediately rejected by the diary.
"I still have a Lesser Spirit Armor Scroll. If I activate it and run immediately, will I be able to escape?"
This time, the diary didn’t issue a death warning.
"Lesser Spirit Armor can temporarily block the enemy’s attacks." Saul maintained his crouching, contemplative posture, hugging his backpack tightly, but his mind was racing.
"Should I use the Lesser Spirit Armor Scroll now?" He gritted his teeth but didn’t act immediately.
"I know almost nothing about this enemy…" He closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to think from another angle. "What if I use Soul Boreworm on them?"
The diary warned Saul that, unlike a nearly instant scroll, the moment he started chanting a spell, the enemy would detect him and kill him without hesitation.
"So, slow-casting spells and similar techniques are out of the question. What about my most proficient instant-cast ability, Necrotic Strike?"
This time, the diary informed him that Necrotic Strike would have almost no effect on the enemy. After all, despite the long neck, the enemy wasn’t some Long-Necked Ghost.
"Even though they look like a ghost, they don’t have a ghost’s weaknesses."
Saul leaned back slightly, his head lightly bumping against the earthen wall behind him, as if finally relaxing from a tense state.
A new idea flashed through his mind.
The diary remained silent.
Saul’s eyes flickered.
---
"Master Herman, that apprentice still hasn’t moved."
While Saul was strategizing his escape from the long-necked enemy’s surveillance, a group of over ten people was busy on the surface.
One of them was reporting his observations to a Third-Level Wizard Apprentice named Herman.
Herman wore a silver wizard’s robe that gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight.
Although everyone around him was also a Third-Level Apprentice, it was clear that they all respected—or feared—him.
"Are you sure he sent out a distress signal?"
Herman was fiddling with a few instruments they had retrieved from the underground cave.
"Yes. The transmission method was Twinborn Worms, but we’re not sure what message was sent."
"How long has it been?"
Another apprentice pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. "Almost two hours."
"Seems like his companions don’t care much about him," Herman sneered.
At that moment, another apprentice who had been searching nearby approached, his expression grim.
"Master Herman, these people might be from the Wizard’s Tower."
The moment those three words—Wizard’s Tower—were spoken, the busy apprentices all froze. They turned to Herman, silently awaiting his decision.
Herman caught sight of their reactions, and his face twisted with anger.
"Look at you cowards! So what if they’re from the Wizard’s Tower? If you’re this scared, you might as well jump off the ship and go back to being ordinary people!"
Herman’s rebuke silenced the area completely.
Suddenly, the apprentice who had been monitoring Saul exclaimed in shock, "Master Herman, we lost contact with the boy!"
"Hmm?" Herman raised his head and grabbed the apprentice by the collar. "Are you telling me that a mere Second-Level—or maybe even just a First-Level—apprentice managed to kill your Eight-Headed Thrall?"
The apprentice trembled violently in Herman’s grip but could only nod.
Herman suddenly let go, a smile of intrigue appearing on his face. "Interesting. I’ll deal with him myself."
With that, his silver wizard’s robe tightened, shifting from a loose-fitting garment into a skintight battle suit.
Even the robe’s hood automatically pulled up over his head.
Now, from head to toe, he was wrapped in silver, revealing the powerful physique that had been hidden beneath the flowing robes.
"Master Herman, what about us?"
Standing at the entrance of the underground passage, Herman gestured to his subordinates.
"Kill everyone who appears here. I don’t care if they’re from the Wizard’s Tower or not!"
With those words, he leaped into the underground cave.
--
A few minutes earlier, deep within the underground cavern, Saul leaned against the wall. One of his hands, hidden behind his body, reached into his backpack and grasped something.
To the floating head watching Saul, the boy appeared curled up on the ground, clutching his backpack tightly.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the depths of the tunnel, followed by a voice calling out.
"Saul? Are you in here?"
The floating head immediately turned, shocked—it hadn’t sensed anyone approaching!
"Looks like you’re in trouble, Saul." A chuckle sounded right next to the floating head’s ear.
But no matter how far the head stretched its neck, it couldn’t see anyone where the voice had come from.
A flicker of fear flashed through its eyes.
Just as it was about to retreat, sharp spikes suddenly shot out from the cave walls, piercing through the long, sinuous neck behind it.
The floating head howled in pain and extended its neck even further, lunging forward to bite at the direction of the voice.
It believed that no matter how well the enemy hid, they would still be hit by its attack.
But it only bit at empty air—nothing was there.
The spikes, after impaling its extended neck, softened and wrapped around it in tight coils, before violently stabbing into the ground.
The floating head was instantly pinned down.
All the attacks had come from the surroundings, not the front.
It suddenly realized—there was no one in front of it at all!
It had been fooled.
The head tried to stretch its neck further, but five or six tentacles had already wrapped tightly around it, securing it to the ground.
A cruel grin spread across its face. With a powerful struggle, it tore two of the tentacles free from the earth.
However, because those tentacles had wrapped around its neck over a dozen times, it still couldn’t break free completely.
It wasn’t afraid, though.
The enemy was just a weak boy, and these tendrils wouldn’t hold it for long.
"ROAR!"
Just as the floating head prepared to break free, a hand suddenly pressed down on its bound neck.
Then came a searing pain—along with the sound of bones being hacked apart.
Saul had lunged forward, pressing his entire weight onto the trapped neck.
The diary had already told him that even the tendrils wouldn’t hold the head for more than a few seconds.
But a few seconds was all he needed.
Saul raised his right hand high, gripping a bone-cleaving knife
—And swung it down with all his might.
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