Endless Debt-Chapter 868 - 18: Threshold Limit

The site of the first negotiation was located in a building within the industrial zone, designed somewhat like a Cultivation Room, without any windows, just a single door at the entrance. The gray-white concrete was unadorned, brutally supporting every part of the structure, accompanied by the winter snow landscape, giving a sense of oppressive solemnity.

Bologue’s sense of familiarity was spot-on; the Order Bureau had temporarily established a simple Void Realm here, modeled after a Cultivation Room, reinforced with a "Seal," strengthening the entire building.

Recalling his final exam during his internship, the skirmish with the Blade-Biting Wolf took place in such a building. It seemed likely that what he was seeing now was not the building’s original form, but rather that it was distorted by the power of the Void Realm.

The effect was also obvious; now the building resembled a fortress rising from the ground. Even if an accident were to occur, even if an enemy of Defender strength were to appear, they could hold this place until reinforcements arrived.

Bologue felt that the likelihood of an accident was low. For the first negotiation to proceed smoothly, several task groups and numerous Condensers of various tiers had appeared here, unless an entire legion came, Bologue believed no one could disrupt any process.

Having arrived at the destination, there was still some time before the negotiations began. The field staff dispersed, heading to their respective positions, establishing several Heart Core Nets, gathering as task groups.

Bologue, as required by work, wandered aimlessly within the industrial zone with Palmer.

Irrelevant individuals had been cleared away in advance, and they had no need to hide their identities as Condensers. The Ether was stirring within, ready to burst forth at any moment, distorting the substance of reality.

Bologue said, "You seem quite tense."

"Do I?"

Compared to Bologue’s fully armed appearance, Palmer looked much more relaxed. His hands were in his pockets, wandering as if shopping. However, inside his pocket, he tightly held Storm Feather, not loosening his grip for a moment.

Bologue looked at Palmer with a cold gaze, Palmer awkwardly smiled, "Well, I am a bit tense."

"Honestly, I think dealing with Devils is better than this job right now."

Palmer complained, "Devils can’t interfere with reality; at most, they’ll tell you meaningless nonsense, making you uneasy.

But the King’s Secret Sword companions aren’t the same; who knows what they’re thinking? They might be plotting another Supernatural war, and all this is just a pretext."

During the outbreak of the secret war, Palmer was trained and educated, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t felt the horror of the Supernatural war.

As one of the founding families of the Order Bureau, the Clarks had many members within, including several people Palmer was familiar with from his childhood. After the secret war, Palmer saw them again in the family graveyard at Wind Source Highlands.

The prior Extraordinary Disasters, no matter how expansive, at most destroyed several cities. But if these two powerful forces reignited the fires of war, it would encompass the destruction of many nations.

Palmer was ready for battle but not prepared for war.

Palmer retorted, "Aren’t you tense?"

"I’m not tense," Bologue shook his head, "I’m the last surviving elder soldier now."

War, Bologue’s old friend, stood in stark contrast to Palmer, showing no worry about its arrival. Instead, Bologue was concerned about not having enough capacity to contribute his value during the war.

Time ticked slowly forward, as personnel on both sides began to arrive, from afar, Bologue saw them, their postures were easily recognizable.

They didn’t immediately enter the building, but were intercepted by the Sixth Group. Bologue saw them seemingly conversing, everything proceeding according to plan.

In an instant when Bologue shifted his gaze, he noticed something.

"Did you feel it, Palmer?"

"What?"

Besides being somewhat tense, Palmer didn’t feel anything abnormal, unaware of what Bologue was referring to.

Bologue sighed; though both were debtors, their connections with the Devils differed. Palmer was a regular debtor to the Crimson Queen; whereas Bologue, chosen by the Astronaut, felt contrasted in their perceptions of the Devils.

The cold winter breeze carried the scent of the Devils, Bologue detected the nauseating aroma.

"I can sense the Devil’s presence," Bologue’s voice echoed within the Heart Core Net, "These lunatics still joined in; the specifics are unclear, I’m investigating."

Bologue’s message spread swiftly, Palmer’s expression grew solemn, decisively drawing Storm Feather from his pocket, advancing alongside Bologue.

"No anomalies found in Zone 1."

"No anomalies found in Zone 2."

"..."

Reports echoed in the Heart Core Net, after Bologue issued the warning, field staff stationed in other locations kindly inspected the surroundings, but found nothing amiss.

The industrial zone is still under the absolute control of the Order Bureau, with the main force of the King’s Secret Sword positioned outside the zone. Only a few negotiators have entered the industrial zone.

Bologue followed his intuition and walked quickly toward the sealed building, imagining one possibility after another.

Devils cannot interfere with reality; they can only send driven mortals to act.

Demons? That’s impossible. The decaying scent of demons cannot be hidden from anyone and would only lead to death on the spot. So, is there another debtor in action here?

Bologue was certain of the purity of the Order Bureau, and thus, the unknown debtor should come from the King’s Secret Sword.

No, that’s not right.

To show sincerity and avoid provoking the Order Bureau, the current negotiation team of the King’s Secret Sword consists of ordinary people, only a few Condensers follow, and their list was cross-checked a few days ago. With the capabilities of the Order Bureau, it’s impossible not to have detected the presence of a debtor.

So is someone being seduced by the devil, though not giving up his soul, yet fulfilling some dark purpose on behalf of the devil?

All kinds of thoughts roared through Bologue’s mind; he felt like a bomb disposal expert with a deadly bomb hidden within this vast industrial zone, ready to explode at any moment.

A sharp pain assaulted Bologue’s mind, the intense agony even affecting Aimou, while the golden halo in Bologue’s eyes swiftly flickered.

The feeling of the umbilical cord reappeared, more intense than ever before.

Something was about to happen.

Thinking this, Bologue felt as if his body was uncontrolled, tilting his head back to gaze at the pale sky overhead.

A hazy figure appeared atop the gray-white building, gazing down at everyone.

"What a mockery of destiny."

Gray looked at the Order Bureau and the King’s Secret Sword about to negotiate, and thinking of what he was about to do, felt a great irony.

Sometimes, Gray felt he no longer recognized this world; it had become unfamiliar and insane. He could neither accept such a world nor convince himself, escaping as he let his will descend, living like a walking corpse.

"Damn it, how did he appear here!"

Others noticed Gray’s presence too, with roars echoing within the Heart Core Net.

The Order Bureau had completely sealed the area. Even Red Dog would struggle to hide its trail attempting infiltration, but Gray appeared atop the building silently.

Gray looked blankly at the field staff below, raising the blood-red blade in his hand. Sharp thorns extended from the hilt, piercing Gray’s palm.

Blood didn’t drip; Blood Transfer Sword seemed like a living entity, greedily devouring Gray’s blood, penetrating beneath his flesh.

Even enduring piercing pain, Gray remained indifferent because a corpse feels no pain.

Relying on the Secret Sword that could tear through paths, Gray silently reached the depths of the industrial zone and now he was to bring more people over.

Sounds absurd; after all, Blood Transfer Sword couldn’t achieve such a feat, but now things were different; Gray was blessed.

Eccentric, frenzied powers grew within Gray, along with ether and blood injected into the Blood Transfer Sword, commanding it to break limits to achieve unattainable powers.

To break the shackles, surpass limits.

Blessing·Threshold Limit.

Gray swung the sword forward into the air; under the blessing, the Blood Transfer Sword briefly broke free from its former constraints, its power multiplied, tearing a passage out of thin air.

Like splashing paint on a canvas, interwoven scarlet marks froze in midair. Its edges like jagged teeth, the scarlet marks turned into wounds of the passage, instantly rupturing, emitting coagulating strange blood gas.

"Transaction complete."

Gray whispered as he stepped into the scarlet wound, disappearing.

The uproarious roars emerged from the scarlet wound; the defense capabilities of the industrial zone, to tear a breach here, would require at least a legion strength.

The Shadow King needed such power, so the Tyrant brought him a legion.

The Silent Legion silently descended onto the battlefield.