Chapter 510: Wisdom

The heart, then the lungs and then the other internal organs. Squelch! Squelch! Dasha took no chances against this skilled warrior. The last thing he took and gripped in his gauntlets was his brain. Scarlet had already pooled by the time the strings of Igor and the puppet master were snatched.

The Solution carried the heart of Igor with him as he walked away. His Qi Sense confirmed that he was completely, utterly dead.

[ Level up! ]

A horn went off to declare his victory.

At Level 74, walking away from the corpse of Igor, The Solution hopped off the arena. The crowd appreciated his effort, although he did hear distinct boos as well as the sobs of those that had been acquainted with him.

The attendant boy of floor fifty-two waited at the end of the corridor.

“Igor’s room key will be given to you,” said the boy. “Please, wait five minutes.”

Five minutes passed and the key was handed over. Fourth room to the left on the east side. Dasha opened the door and closed it behind upon seeing what was inside.

’Igor must have stayed in this room for a very long time.’

The torches had a special placeholder and stuck to the walls with screws. As for the main furniture, there was a fancy bed chamber, a book shelf, a study desk, a refrigerator, and a small place of worship for what appeared to be Zeus, the god of lightning. It was not difficult to understand Igor’s role here. He stayed at floor fifty-two and never any higher in order to maintain security, safety, and gain little jumps in power.

Dasha clutched his left lung. “Can’t breathe properly. My heart is back but…ngh.”

’Igor pushed me far more than I could have ever anticipated. Given the number of fighting styles he had, unless I prepared for a whole week, I doubt the battle would have been any easier.’

Igor was a true master of his craft. Considering the millions constantly battling, men of his skill were to be expected. Dasha simply did not expect that kind of gap in skill.

’A master of martial arts on Earth is different from a master here. Earth’s arts are meant for the weak bodies of the humans there. But the arts here are meant to amplify what they already know.’

Everyday, he learned something new about this world. From Grace, from the elders of the Underground, everyone. Nothing about this realm was the same as the Earth, even something as simple as gravity. Here in the Underground, according to his calculations, gravity was three times heavier than in the heavens. The bazaar itself was almost the same as Earth, albeit with some exceptions regarding momentum.

Physics and science were upended with those minor differences. Dasha was able to calibrate accordingly to some degree but there were gaps.

Dasha stumbled to the chambers. Damn. He had lost too much blood.

“Ngh. O-open inventory.”

Turning and climbing onto the bed, Dasha sat down and shakily pulled out a potion. He drank it quickly and gasped when it left his lips.

He meditated. He had no other choice but to meditate.

He learned to reconstruct his heart and upgrade his Internal Healing from Middle Stage to Late Stage. It took far longer than expected. Five minutes of focused, calm effort with a mild rush of adrenaline.

Breathe in…

“Hah…”

Breathe out.

“Are you alright?”

His eyes flung open. “Who’s there?”

Nothing. Nobody was there, except his own mind. Dasha dragged the red tengu mask and touched the final piece of Jack the Ripper’s mask. A small white chip attached into his chin through a knife-life needle. He didn’t and couldn’t rip it off.

“So ugly.”

Deep inside, his fury bubbled. It looked ugly. Unsymmetrical. That agitated him more than anything. It was why these extra masks were unnecessary. Dasha would rather die than let others see this ugly thing on him.

“Are you taunting me, Jack? Your poems and your words, they seep into my dreams. But never anything useful, never your memories, but the deaths of the women you killed. Mary Ann Nichols…I see how you killed her. What a mess.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

Closing his eyes…

His hand flung out. Air again. He swore someone attempted to touch his shoulder.

“Are these phantom sensations from fusing with Jack’s mask more and more? It’s agitating.”

For power, however, he was willing to sacrifice anything and everything, so he put up with it. The voices telling that all would be alright and that dinner would be served. The voices that reminded him of his parents and of a time long forgotten. He presumed these were Jack’s memory and pushed until the aches could be dulled with pain killers.

He did it. He was healed. The lost blood was the hardest, frankly, because it was liquid, not solid. He only managed to fill up half of the blood required before stopping. For the rest of the missing blood, he decided to go with traditional medicine. A potion and five needles that injected the blood of a monster.

He could feel his Qi quiver and increase.

He stood up, legs wobbling. From his estimations, it would take a day of Internal Healing at full throttle and then a day of relaxation in order to heal completely. Dasha decided to check out Igor’s shelf of books. He took out the first book and read through it in a flash. Eyes flicking and fingers pausing to narrow down on the details of illustrations.

His eyes flicked up. Judging by the spines of the books, these were journals and labelled in the years of his life. In total, top-to-bottom of the book shelf, he counted…

“One hundred and eighty.” Dasha dropped down and took out the first book at the bottom left. “Age twelve. He started writing at age twelve. He’s lived for quite a long time.”

A wealth of knowledge uncensored by the House of Wisdom and any people. Experience that was neither missing pages or written by other owners.

Igor’s wisdom belonged to Dasha now.

So he started reading. Dasha could flick through hundreds of pages in a matter of seconds. Memorizing everything he saw instantly and then putting the book down in order to briefly analyze. “Igor was raised in the Witches’ Alley. A failure, it seems, who was told to leave and fend for himself when he could not. He did not possess mana and…”

He proceeded to read four more journals. Four years worth of his life.

“…had to go through untested means in order to gain it. He was an ordinary human, put simply, who sharpened his physical ability, became a mercenary, and attained the resources and met a scientist who could help him. A disgraced Lord of the Old Mage Tower, told that his methods of spreading equal magic to all was foolish.”

Igor’s life was truly fascinating. He participated in the Second Heavenly War as an advisor to a young Rikugun-Chūjō, a Lieutenant General. His intellect and skills impressed all those he came across. His tactics merged magic and traditional warfare. Prior to the war and even following it, Igor enjoyed studying under players. He almost worshipped them. The type of man who thought they were a truly special class of humanity sent by Zeus himself.

Igor’s worship of Zeus came from his element. The experiment originally conducted on him was said to have very low chances of actually working. It was a miracle he received them at all and he thanked Zeus for it. He thanked him for giving him the ability to summon spears of lightning and to amplify his steps.

Oh, sure, he went on to learn other elements, but lightning was his beginning. His start. Nothing would change that.

Although there was one part of his life story that intrigued Dasha above all else.

“The Witches’ Alley…”

The Witches Alley was a small village in the Underground. Founded by Hecate the goddess of witches, it was located close to the Slums outside albeit near the Great Wall. It appeared that unlike most of the population, the witches lived symbiotically with the Great Wall and were blessed with a secret entrance that let them go in and out.

Their potions were out of this world. The best of the best, with the Founder of the Unorthodox Sect said to have been trained there. Even the Sect Master of the Unorthodox Sect, Li Xuanming, attempted to find the Witches’ Alley, only to fail.

Igor was born there. He did not give specific directions but Dasha could make out the pieces. Bit by bit, year by year, Dasha learned more of the Witches’ Alley. By year fifty, he had a rouge estimate of its location.

Dasha had to go there.

Whether he liked to admit it or not, Dasha Pang was beginning to approach the limit of an independent Cultivator. He required masters. He required their sacred teachings.

Elemental Breathing…

’If I possessed that, the spear of his wouldn’t have dissolved my Qi Blade.’

To receive a master’s instruction, he required years worth of trust or a favour owed to him. Either seemed unlikely. Dasha wished for the best of the best.

’The best would rather die than give their life’s work to me.’

Dasha’ equipment, particularly his gauntlets, were a rare thing. Having possessed them since the beginning, they naturally increased the quality of his Qi.

He needed more.

He needed potions that would increase his Qi even more. He needed liquid bases to power up his Golden Machine. He needed to learn ancient recipes.

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