Chapter 177: The Death of a Noble

Electric sparks exploded as Wang Yu’s Lightning Lances struck the clown. The unruly electricity crackled over his body and all that lay around him.

A strange, burnt stench spread through the air along with a wisp of white smoke. The clown’s skin was charred black in patches where he had been struck by multiple lightning spears. Up until now, he had barely suffered any visible injuries in his fight against Wang Yu; this attack finally forced him to react.

His limbs tensed violently under the stimulation of the current. The force he exerted in his struggle against Wang Yu momentarily increased—only for the severe paralysis that followed to rob him of control over his muscles. His entire body slackened.

His colorful face paint concealed his expression of pain, but his hands could no longer match Wang Yu’s in strength. He was forcefully pinned against the backdrop behind him.

Wang Yu wasn’t relying only on his arms, but also the additional limbs that formed from his bloody cloak.

His hands held the clown firmly against the backdrop of the stage, who was trapped in place now that he was paralyzed and unable to exert his monstrous strength. The cracks in the backdrop rapidly expanded from the force of the impact.

Meanwhile, the multiple blood-red arms from Wang Yu’s back extended toward the clown’s neck as they tightened their grip. Wang Yu channeled every bit of fighting spirit he could into Blood Tempest, increasing the pressure it brought to bear.

Whatever coated the clown’s body was hard—extremely hard. The strange material granted him an absurd level of defense. Neither sharp nor prolonged impact seemed to have much effect.

The lightning lances earlier had managed to pierce it to some extent, but Wang Yu had drained the mana stored within his Spellweaver’s Tome. Until it recharged, Wang Yu had to find another way to finish the clown.

“Why do you oppose… our utopia?”

Despite being half-strangled and completely restrained, the clown still managed to move his lips. His bloodshot eyes, reminiscent of a dying fish’s, stared directly at Wang Yu with unfathomable emotion.

“Isn’t this the happiness that most people desire? Why… must you stop us?” His eerie gaze, deathly pale expression, and helpless murmurs—anyone in their right mind would feel a deep psychological impact from this scene.

“And what does that have to do with me? Can you still breathe?” Wang Yu responded indifferently. He continued to pour more fighting spirit into his grip. His tone was flat, but his words seemed absurdly out of place.

“Our utopia… should not be stopped… You… refuse to accept a world like this. You…”

His voice grew weaker. His breathing became ragged and loud as blood clogged his nostrils. Unable to breathe through his nose, he gasped desperately for air through his mouth.

“Good. Perfect.” Wang Yu nodded in satisfaction. A thunderous explosion followed. At some point, his bloody cloak had retrieved a firearm from his holster and raised it to Wang Yu’s shoulder.

The searing hot barrel of the Fury of the Forge aimed directly at the clown’s open mouth. It was a charged shot; the crimson beam of energy moved too fast for anyone to react. By the time the sound reached the clown’s ears, the bullet, infused with immense heat and mana, had already entered his mouth.

Wang Yu abruptly released his grip and took a step back. At the same time, his crimson cloak morphed once more, slamming into the floor of the stage and solidifying into a makeshift barrier.

Before Wang Yu could retreat any further, the charged shot detonated inside the clown.

Scorching energy erupted from every orifice unprotected by the strange material—his eyes, nostrils, and mouth. His internal organs were incinerated instantly.

The sheer force of the internal explosion finally overwhelmed the clown’s bizarre defenses. Like a soda can stuffed with a firecracker, his body detonated.

Shrapnel and shockwaves crashed into Wang Yu’s blood barrier, causing it to crack, but by then, it had already absorbed the most devastating impact. The remaining shockwave did little against Wang Yu’s reinforced physique.

The hardened wall of blood softened once more and flowed back into his cloak. Wang Yu glanced at the shattered remains of the clown. Despite the explosion, the strange material covering his body still retained some shape, but he was completely and utterly dead.

“Done.” Wang Yu shook the blood off his hands and turned toward Charles. Edward’s Bastion still shielded the audience, though there were some minor scratches on his body. Edward gave Wang Yu a thumbs-up as the latter leaned over—a gesture Edward had learned from him.

By the edge of the barrier were plenty of battered “beast carcasses.” The illusion magic had made them look terrifyingly real, but in truth, they were just hollow constructs of mana. They lay lifeless on the ground.

“I drained almost all my reserves of mana…” Charles exhaled heavily. He had bombarded the enemy with spells throughout the duration of Wang Yu’s fight.

Unlike Avia, Charles specialized not in raw destructive magic but rather in adaptability. His deck of tarot cards was able to support allies and allow him to make unexpected moves—a poor choice against a mindless swarm of constructs.

The fallen constructs had all either been deformed from powerful magic or deactivated. Clearly, killing the clown had caused all of them to shut down.

“Hmm? What’s going on? Why is this place in ruins?”

“Huh? What’s this…”

“Wasn’t I just watching a performance?”

With the clown dead, the audience finally woke from the illusion. They stared blankly at the barrier and the wrecked circus.

“There was something wrong about this circus. You were all compelled into an illusion,” Edward announced loudly, dispelling his Bastion.

He flashed his Nightblades insignia up high.

Though still largely confused, the audience quickly retreated upon recognizing the Nightblades’ insignia, leaving Wang Yu, Charles, and Edward to clean up.

Wang Yu searched the tent but found no one else. The other performers seemed to have vanished into thin air, though they hadn’t been illusions, either. The clown had to have made them all somehow. He was the core of the circus, and his death had caused just about everything to go defunct.

“That aligns with our records on this Utopian Circus. As long as we finish off a certain key figure, everything else dissipates quickly. The key figure this time around must have been that clown.”

Charles glanced around. All that remained within the tent were props and ordinary, non-magical items.

“That went smoothly—but the clown’s powers seemed really bizarre.” Even though the prayer communication network should have blocked mental interference, Charles had still been affected. There was no trace of void energy, yet the clown had influenced him nonetheless.

“Didn’t seem to affect me.” Wang Yu shrugged.

The clown had attempted to talk to Wang Yu, likely in order to use the same trick on him, but it had failed completely.

“Your mental resistance is absurd…” Charles sighed.

A sudden alarm blared outside, a high-priority emergency alert. All city guards and off-duty Nightblades were required to immediately assemble.

The three Nightblades exchanged glances and dashed out.

As they ran, Wang Yu checked his magic communicator. His eyes flickered with mild surprise.

“What’s going on?” Edward asked.

“A viscount was assassinated in his estate. The killer is fleeing. Captain Hugin and Mr. Sieg want us to assist in capturing them.”

Wang Yu sped up and checked his reserves. He still had roughly half his fighting spirit remaining, and he would be able to keep up his Blood Tempest and strengthened physical attribute sfor the time being.

Wang Yu leapt onto a building and shot forward, his bloody cloak extending like tendrils to propel him across the cityscape.

Following the communicator’s guidance, he rushed straight in the direction of the killer.

Charles and Edward, lacking such mobility, could only sprint. Edward had raw strength and speed, whereas Charles could boost himself with spells.

“The victim is Viscount Glenn, a noble of little renown… It’s likely not a Selwynian assault. They wouldn’t waste manpower and resources on someone so unimportant,” Charles analyzed as he ran.

“He was going for a seat on the Elder Council, wasn’t he? It might very well be one of his competitors.”

Edward scoffed. Charles nodded in understanding. Neither spoke further as they rushed toward the scene.

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