Chapter 56 - 54 The Answer is Spirit Energy!

Chapter 56: Chapter 54 The Answer is Spirit Energy!

Everything happened too suddenly, and even the experienced hunters were taken aback; Brin collided with them solidly. The dagger that was originally aimed at the heart missed slightly, stabbing just below the left lung and getting stuck between the rib plate and the White Folks’ solid muscles.

A tall and sturdy man’s force upon impact is incredibly powerful. How could the dagger-wielder, who was only about 1.45 meters tall, withstand it? He was left gasping for air, almost fainting, and his grip on the knife slackened.

But Brin couldn’t truly resolve an enemy with just one collision.

As the herb collector attempted to clamp his hands around the Native’s neck to strangle him to death, the skilled hunter decisively raised his knee and struck Brin’s lower body. He then quickly knelt down to escape Brin’s grip while the latter winced from the pain.

At this moment, the other two Native Hunters had already caught up.

The knife-wielder, who had nearly been killed instead, cursed in his native tongue and took out a short gun from behind. It looked like he was about to stab Brin who was now half-kneeling on the ground, his face contorted in pain.

Accompanied by a gust of wind, a bucket suddenly came flying, heading straight towards the knife-wielder poised to strike.

Normally, the knife-wielder could dodge such a surprise attack a hundred out of a hundred times, but now he was extremely angry and excited, and he had already raised his hand to strike when he noticed the barrel. It was too late for anything but a reflexive block.

Realizing that the incoming object was just a bucket, he even felt a bit relieved; certainly, he didn’t think a bucket could do much to him.

However, the knife-wielder, who had never learned physics, did not consider what exactly was in the bucket or what force it was thrown with so that it could travel in a straight trajectory without rolling.

Bang!

In the next instant, under the astonished gaze of the arriving Archer and Blowgunner, the knife-wielder who tried to block was struck by the bucket and sent flying backward. His body hovered in the air, and with the sharp sound of breaking bones, his right hand used for blocking twisted into a bizarre angle. He fell to the ground headfirst, and the short gun in his hand spun out of his grip, twirling in mid-air.

Before the flying short gun even touched the ground, the bucket that had hit its target exploded, scattering mud soaked with seawater everywhere, enveloping the Archer and Blowgunner in a smell of the sea and slapping their faces with wet sand.

——This was none other than the coastal version of "lime powder" in all its martial glory!

Brin, half-kneeling on the ground, recognized the bucket that had saved his life; it was Ian’s bucket for seafood. But how on earth did he manage to aim so accurately in the dark jungle and throw it at the target?

Was it Spirit Energy?

And how could the boy have such great strength?

Without time to ponder, Brin saw the figure of a boy swiftly crossing over moss-covered roots and vines, rushing towards the Natives who were trying to shake off the mud and sand.

Brin, having narrowly escaped death, had no time to calm his emotions or feel the pain from the stab wound in his chest. He panicked and exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing moving forward? Run away!"

Honestly, Brin was almost frantic with worry. If Ian died, he wouldn’t fare any better upon returning. Elder Prude might not blame him on the surface, but Brin’s life would undoubtedly be miserable henceforth.

Just think about it. That old man had unified all the White Folks in the South Ridge Immigrant area and had held the position of Elder firmly for decades. Furthermore, he had watched Brin grow up. Brin never wanted to suffer the manipulations of the Elder, even in death.

Conversely, if Brin died but successfully protected Ian, his family would receive proper care. Ian would owe him, which would not only alleviate any previous small misgivings but would also ensure that Ian looked after his family in the future.

——But the question was, how could a boy of eight or nine have the courage to charge directly at the experienced Native Hunters?!

As expected, Brin, who struggled to stand up, saw with pain that the Archer, who had been smudged in the face with mud, was viciously pulling back his short bow. The Archer’s eyes hadn’t been blinded by the mud. At such a short distance, it was impossible for the Native to miss.

But before the Archer could release his arrow, a clump of wet mud was hurled at his face.

Within seven steps, the projectile was both accurate and swift!

Ian, ready to strike, was naturally faster than the surprised Native. Mud flew everywhere, sticking into the Archer’s eyes and mouth, while the salty water and secretion from various seafood made his eyes water and nose run. The impact of the mud ball also caused him to stagger, and his arrow wound up who-knows-where.

Despite this, he still showed incredible bravery, dropping his short bow and pulling out a rusty short knife from his belt, charging towards Ian.

The rusty blade was poisonous and even more lethal with fresh bloodstains still on it, a clear indication that this group of Hunters had already ambushed other unlucky targets.

But this time, it was destined to fail to achieve its purpose.

On the other side, driven by fear, anger, and adrenaline, Brin forced himself to stand up. He roared and pulled the small knife that the knife-wielder had stabbed into his chest, and then hurled it with all his might at the Blowgunner, who was attempting to coordinate an attack with the Archer.

The Blowgunner, though wary of the suddenly appearing Ian, did not let down his guard against Brin and nimbly dodged the throw.

Indeed, in that breath of time, he couldn’t assist the Archer against Ian. But, after all, it was just an eight- or nine-year-old boy; there was no chance his partner could lose...

This thought hadn’t even fully formed when he was shocked to find that his longtime partner let out a piercing, agonized scream. It sounded as though someone had brutally shattered his lower body with a powerful kick.

At a glance, the Native who had pounced on Ian shockingly collapsed, his lower body drenched in blood, obviously battered to an unrecognizable mess.

Thankfully, due to the Natives’ height, Ian didn’t even need to jump to kick at their vitals.

——All kinds of martial arts, this is human ergonomics!

"How is it possible, how can a kid have such strength?!" (in Native language)

Unable to contain his bewilderment, the Blowgunner, who was tasked with scouting and stealth in the group, inclined more towards agility than strength. He thought he couldn’t have caused his partner to scream like that, nor could he have thrown a bucket hard enough to send a knife wielder flying, and so he found the current situation incomprehensible.

But the situation being what it was, facing Ian, who had just crushed the Archer’s throat with one foot and was stepping on the lower body again to ensure thorough death, the Blowgunner was well aware that he had no chance to escape.

He could see that Ian’s arms and fists were emanating a faint blue glow, the force that instantly overpowered the Archer. Such a phenomenon he had only seen on the fiercest of Magical Beasts, the tribe’s elite Warriors, and the Chieftain.

There was no time to think.

The moment Ian stepped forward, charging towards him, the Blowgunner immediately pulled out a sharp wooden knife, poisoned and deadly, hoping to use it to fend off his opponent or even kill him.

A brave Hunter faced a Claw Blade Tiger’s pounce without fear, knife in hand, bringing hope of victory to his kin. How could the other party be stronger than...

Puff——a bag of Sleep Powder smashed on his face.

The pleasant scent of flowers spread. The Blowgunner was befuddled.

Then, a gust of wind brushed his face, one hand knocked the poison knife from his grip, and another clawed towards his face, thumb and forefinger jabbing into his eye sockets.

Next, there was a forceful wring inward.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. He was dead.

The battle was over.

"So foolish."

Ian, hands covered in blood, released the Blowgunner’s corpse, which had just stopped struggling. He sighed deeply, "These Natives really aren’t very smart—And thanks to your help, Uncle Brin, without you drawing their attention, I would have had a much harder time killing them."

He spoke casually, not seeming to care that he had just crushed and pinched a man to death. Ian even flexed his right hand thoughtfully, reminiscing in his mind, "Eyeballs are harder than I imagined... Though Natives seem short, just like other Terra People, they actually have quite strong bodies."

"It’s a pity there wasn’t enough time last time, and now isn’t the time for dissection."

"**!"

Brin, who had just managed to stand up straight, had his eyes wide open. With a look that was more of terror than astonishment, he stared at Ian as though looking at an exceptionally strong fool, "Did you just throw an entire bag of Sleep Powder like a hidden weapon?!"

He didn’t even have the chance to be astonished that a child around eight or nine years old had so easily killed two Native Hunters. The heart-wrenching pain rendered him breathless, "That’s dozens of Talle—dozens of Talle!"

He coughed up a mouthful of bloody sputum—the chest wound he had suffered from the Native’s stabbing was already affecting him.

"Don’t get too worked up, Uncle Brin."

Dissipating the Origin Quality from his arms and fists, Ian came to Brin’s side to help him lean against a tree root, "You’ve injured your lungs; you can’t exert yourself too much. Just rest for a bit, and we’ll head back to the port immediately."

The Terra People’s ribs in front of their lungs and heart are protected by a bone plate, so if the stabbing isn’t too deep, at most it would pierce the bone plate without damaging the organs.

Even with a lung injury, as long as it’s not serious, they’d survive until they could get to the city, where Elder Prude’s skills would undoubtedly save Brin’s life.

"It’s nothing... the knife wasn’t that deep; it didn’t completely pierce my ribcage."

Accepting Ian’s help, after resting a while and his breathing evened out, Brin finally had the energy to scrutinize Ian, who seemed to be pondering something. The herb picker could hardly believe it, "Am I dreaming?"

"Ian, how do you have such strength?"

"The answer is Spirit Energy!"