"If you’re going to follow along, then don’t act impulsively. I can tell you’re a good hunter even outside Yan’an. But the situation in Yan’an is different, and what we face here is quite unlike the outside world. You must understand how foolish it is to charge blindly at unfamiliar monsters, right?"
Henrik continued his steady pace on the cobblestone road. He had lived in Yan’an for a long time, almost like watching the city being built from the ground up.
Compared to outsiders like Lann, who could lose their way in just a few steps, the winding roads felt as familiar to him as the path from his living room to his bedroom.
The young man following him spoke with a calm and composed tone.
"I’m no rash fool, Henrik. I’m a professional hunter who makes a living from hunting."
Listening to the words behind him, Henrik was silent for a moment.
Breaking into Yan’an on the night of the hunt... calm and composed...
These hunters who come from outside to Yan’an are always .
They have honed their hunting skills long before coming to Yan’an to seek blood therapy.
The young local hunters of Yan’an, even those who have participated in several nights of hunting, probably don’t have the composure of the guy behind him.
Not because of fear, but because only the local hunters can truly feel it—those they hunt as beastified patients might have been ordinary citizens of Yan’an just half an hour ago.
Perhaps, this morning, they had passed each other by, exchanging smiles and greetings.
That’s why hunters are best as outsiders, because they never hesitate when taking action.
That’s why the people of Yan’an hate outsiders, because they know exactly what outsiders come here to do.
As they proceeded, Henrik, now in work mode, became reticent.
Unlike many demon hunters Lann had met in the Magic World, who had the habit of mumbling to themselves. Henrik just worked silently and efficiently.
Uncertain if this was a professional habit of "peers" from another world or just Henrik’s personal habit.
The gunpowder erupted in the barrel, propelling the ammunition to shoot out and momentarily illuminating the dim streets of Yan’an.
A beastified patient wielding a pitchfork, barely covered by a linen shirt, with wild hair growing chaotically all over its body.
Before it could stab with the pitchfork, it was hit in the left shoulder by Henrik’s firearm.
It was clear the power of the firearm wasn’t effective against the mutated bodies of these beastified patients; the bullets didn’t tumble or tear through the flesh within their lean yet hardened bodies.
But Henrik didn’t seem to intend to complete the hunt with a firearm.
He merely wanted to use the bullet’s impact to stagger the beastified patient.
In the instant the creature lost balance, Henrik executed a flawlessly smooth sidestep, moving right in front of the monster.
It was Lann’s first time witnessing the practical effect of a transformable weapon.
Henrik slashed upward diagonally with the saw cleaver in its folded state, the serrated edge first cutting into the beastified patient’s ribs, then with a mechanical "click," it snapped into place.
The spring knife-like structure started to function, mechanically thrusting the blade outward in a direction fully aligned with Henrik’s swing, resulting in a compounded force.
The over two-meter-tall beastified patient was a full head taller than Henrik.
But with that transformation slash, the massive gash cut by the serrated blade extended from its ribs all the way to its chest cavity.
The large chunks of flesh torn off by the serrations even allowed one to see straight through the wound from the front to the back of the beastified patient.
Henrik should have been able to cleave the prey in half directly, but the beastified patient’s weight wasn’t substantial enough, so the saw cleaver cut halfway through and sent it flying.
The heavily furred corpse slammed against the street wall with a dull thud.
The characteristic of the saw cleaver caused such an enormous amount of blood to spill that it felt like a bucket of paint had been splattered all over.
Transformable weapons were indeed exceptional in instant explosive power.
Henrik’s combat style of utilizing firearm impact, to Lann, closely resembled Iwami’s stance breaking, identical in principle.
Both aimed to create a brief anomaly in the enemy to execute a decisive end to the battle.
Moreover, solely judging by Henrik’s physique and age, even with the mechanical force of the transformable weapon, his basic strength seemed abnormal.
... Still, because of ’blood’?
Could Yan’an’s blood be not only a Universal Remedy but also a superhuman drug?
The young demon hunter, with his hand on his sword hilt outside the battlefield, never intervened in Henrik’s hunt.
This sense of discretion made Henrik have a favorable impression of him.
Thus, after shaking off the layer of odorous blood splattered on his coat, Henrik gave a piece of advice to the young outsider who had just arrived in Yan’an.
"Even if you adhere to tradition, you must learn to accept the advancements of the era."
The Old Hunter lifted the firearm in his left hand toward Lann.
It appeared to be a flintlock gun, with a wooden grip and body, metal barrel, and ignition mechanism.
Just like the Victorian style of this city, elaborate patterns were engraved on the metal barrel as well.
"Outsiders seeking blood therapy must first go to the Healing Church, where blood therapy originated. The church always has a big demand for hunters. As long as you agree to become a hunter working for the church, your blood therapy schedule can be expedited, and they will also provide logistical support."
"At the very least, they’ll supply you with a free Hunter’s Pistol, a transformable weapon, and even offer an advance salary and cheap yet comfortable rental housing."
Lann removed his hand from the sword hilt, stepping closer to Henrik, with an expression unshaken by the prospect of a bright future discussed. This text is hosted at NoveI-Fire.ɴet
"All I want right now is to get through this hunt night safely... Perhaps I’m inexperienced, but Yan’an is truly a bit too thrilling."
"Mutant townspeople, hunters preying openly on the street, and normal people who are accustomed to it all... You even make me think I’ve walked into an apocalypse."
"Apocalypse? Heh." Underneath the yellow mask, Henrik let out a laugh that was either derisive or pensive, "It’s a good metaphor."
Then, he shifted his tone.
"But tonight? Hardly."
"It’s just a regular hunt night, far from being called an apocalypse."
As he spoke, even though only a sliver revealing his eyes showed on his face, Lann sensed he seemed to be plunged into some terrifying memory.
It was just a moment in time, yet the deeply ingrained feeling was incredibly vivid.
So vivid that Lann even thought he had truly experienced a hunt night of apocalyptic proportions...
"There should be eight to nine hours left until the night ends."
Lann changed the topic, looking up at the sky.
From the layered architecture of Yan’an, he saw a glimpse of the immense moon above.
"Do you have any plans for the remaining time? Or just wandering around hunting?"
Henrik had roughly cleaned the layer of filthy blood off his coat and stood up.
The uncanny blood already had a texture akin to thick oil.
"I have a regular partner; finding trustworthy people on hunt nights makes things a bit easier."
"Looking forward to meeting your partner."
Henrik shook his head noncommittally.
"He’s different from me; he’s a kind fellow. If he can help others, he’d be glad to."