Lann watched helplessly as Gascogne pulled out a glass bottle with a syringe from an inner pocket of his coat.
Inside the bottle was a murky yellow, almost blood-red clear liquid.
It looked like some kind of serum processed from blood.
He didn’t even bother to find a vein; he simply grabbed Henrik’s leg and swiftly injected it.
As the liquid from the bottle was injected, Henrik’s wound healed at an astonishing speed, and it seemed as if the lost blood was being spontaneously generated within his body.
The Old Hunter, previously ice-cold, limp, and powerless due to heavy bleeding, suddenly had all his indicators return to normal after the injection.
Gascogne pocketed the empty glass bottle, as though after giving the shot, there was nothing else to worry about, and stood up.
Henrik indeed needed no further attention.
The Old Hunter, who had his clavicle artery sliced open just moments ago, naturally stood up.
Lann stood to the side, bewildered.
No, wait a minute... am I the Mutant, or are you guys the Mutants?
Even a big bottle of [Pure White Rafad] wouldn’t heal as fast as that one shot you gave!
Though Gascogne was blindfolded, he seemed to easily sense Lann’s expression.
"This is [Blood Therapy]."
He opened his coat to Lann, revealing two more small bottles filled with murky yellow serum inside.
"Actually, if your illness is urgent, you can completely skip those cumbersome rituals and appointments at the church and just inject this directly into your body."
Lann nodded absent-mindedly, but for some reason, after witnessing such instant [Blood Therapy], he felt inexplicably more repelled by it.
This thing isn’t right... it’s disgusting.
The feeling kept surfacing in Lann’s mind.
Gascogne’s blood vial looked a bit dirty, but it was stained during the process of hunting beastified patients, and wouldn’t affect the serum inside.
But Lann just felt that thing was dirty and disgusting.
...like there were a bunch of floating organisms inside. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ noᴠelfire.net
"About [Blood Therapy]... I’ll learn more before talking about it later. Henrik, what happened just now? If I’d reacted just a bit slower, you’d have nearly lost your head to that creature!"
The young man asked the Old Hunter seriously. In a chaotic encounter, even a novice who had only wielded a blade a few times shouldn’t make such a mistake.
Henrik’s behavior was as absurd as an ordinary person inexplicably going mad.
Incidentally, Lann also asked Gascogne casually.
"Or, does [Blood Therapy] restore one’s head even after it’s been lost? Is that why Hunters don’t tense up during encounters?"
The Priest shook his head: "[Blood Therapy] is a crystallization of church technology, but to this day, I’ve never heard of such advanced medical results."
"Give us an explanation, Henrik. We, at least I, need to ensure your mental state is sound and you can adapt to the hunt."
Henrik’s triangular hat drooped, and after a moment’s silence, he said nothing.
He only wiped his body, stained with his own blood, and walked toward the three slain creatures.
Lann could see the Old Hunter’s steps were somewhat heavy.
"You were impressive earlier, Lann. Now I believe, even without the Hunters’ workshop weapons, you’re capable of joining the hunt."
Gascogne and Lann walked alongside the silent Henrik, praising Lann’s skills.
Lann had single-handedly taken down two creatures earlier, proving crucial when Henrik faltered.
"No, it’s nothing..."
Lann hesitated for a moment.
"Are you not worried about Henrik? He doesn’t seem right."
Gascogne shook his head, pressing on his wide-brimmed hat.
"This is Yan’an, Lann... In this city, Hunters, or rather everyone, has moments of abnormality. Especially during Hunt Night, you must learn to adapt or ignore these abnormalities to survive in Yan’an."
The moon in the sky was abnormally large, casting bright moonlight onto the ground like low-power streetlights.
Gascogne’s wide-brimmed hat shrouded the upper half of his face in shadow, making it impossible for Lann to discern his expression.
The Demon Hunter remained silent.
The two followed towards Henrik’s back, where the Old Hunter was examining the beastified patient’s corpse.
First, he pulled at the remnants of clothing on the three beastified patients, which seemed very new.
Not newly made, but newly torn and damaged.
As if torn apart forcefully during the wearer’s violent physical distortion, it hung like rags on the patients.
Lann squinted his eyes slightly.
Henrik had once explained that the development of beastification was gradual, from shallow to deep.
If these were mildly beastified patients, wearing such clothing could still be plausible. But three patients at this level of beastification...
Shouldn’t the mane they developed during activity have ground these ordinary clothes into fibers?
In other words—these three people did not experience the beastification process or the progression was very short.
Then they promptly turned into ’these.’
Does the development of beastification contradict the common knowledge accumulated in Yan’an?
Was this the reason Henrik was lost in the battlefield?
"There’s something wrong, Henrik."
Before the young Demon Hunter spoke, Gascogne, addressing Henrik, spoke directly.
The Priest’s tone was serious and solemn.
"Their eyes... I’ve never seen beasts with blood-red eyes before. Is that why you were distracted? Have you seen this type of beast before?"
This focus differed from Lann’s, so he briefly recalled the eyes of an ordinary beastified patient.
Mentos precisely retrieved the memory image and projected it to the edge of his field of vision.
It was the first beastified patient Lann had encountered; aside from the widespread bloodshot appearance, its pupil should have been circular but had become collapsed, melted, like a stain spreading in the eye.
That’s how a beastified patient’s pupil should look, whereas these eyes resembling Blood Gemstones...
"Yes, I’ve seen it, but it was... it was a long, long time ago."
The Hunter, whose clavicle had been excavated to his artery, spoke for the first time after standing up from the ground. His voice was arduous and conflicted, as if refusing to acknowledge an undeniable fact.
Henrik stood up, exhaling deeply.
"Leave the three corpses here for now, don’t touch them."
"But Henrik, Hunt Night requires Hunters to uniformly incinerate the slain bodies to cut off the beastification plague, you know that."
Gascogne calmly reiterated the Hunter’s work requirement, but the Old Hunter, who should’ve been more composed, seemed unable to control his emotions.
"Ignore the regulations for now, I’ll find someone from the church to come and check the scene. This is wrong! They must come and see!"
Amid Henrik’s uncontrolled outburst, Gascogne wisely withheld his impending persuasion.
"Apparently, you do know something, Henrik."
The Priest returned his blunderbuss under his coat, calmly inquiring.
"I won’t ask beyond that, do you have any suggestions for me, for Viola?"
At the mention of Viola, Gascogne’s wife, the Old Hunter suddenly became much more composed.
After a moment of silence, his triangular hat shook weakly.
"Suggestions... have Viola stay at home and prepare plenty of beast-repelling incense. Yes, even though this Hunt Night has just passed, you need to remind her to stock up on incense. And regarding you?"
"...Be ready for battle at any time, Gascogne. Be prepared to hunt beasts at any time, and pray, to the god you once believed in, the god you believe in now, any god you can think of. Pray this is just an accident."
After speaking, the Old Hunter in the yellow coat walked away alone toward the alley.
"I’ll come find you at dinner; have Viola make more."