Chapter 27: The Search for Bats in Progress
Jason yanked the rope tied under Allen's armpits, instantly freeing his hands.
Within three seconds, Allen had undone the rest of the bindings on his own.
Seeing this, Jason shifted to assist Dick.
At that moment, Allen turned his attention to Ethel, who had failed to escape in time. Holding a bundle of rope, he advanced step by step and asked, "Do you remember what I told you?"
"What?"
Ethel was terrified, his mind a jumbled mess, unable to recall anything.
"I told you, don't act tough in front of me next time," Allen reminded him.
Ethel suddenly remembered—there really had been such a warning.
Allen's eyes lit up. "And guess what? You just acted tough again."
"Ke ke ke..."
Allen's eerie grin sent chills down Ethel's spine.
How to describe it? His upper teeth bit down on his lower lip, while his smile stretched his upper lip taut, exposing his upper gums—a truly unsettling expression.
"You psycho!"
Sensing imminent danger, Ethel turned to flee.
But before he could take a step, a loop tightened around his neck. The rope had already ensnared him, and an immense force yanked him backward.
"Don't go just yet. Try my craftsmanship."
Allen's voice slithered into his ear like a demon's whisper.
"No, please don't do this! I apologize…"
Ethel's pleas fell on deaf ears as he found himself tightly bound, curled up into a ball.
His limbs were folded in, his head pressed down against his stomach—completely immobilized. Even turning to the side was impossible.
"Perfection."
Allen admired his handiwork with satisfaction, then struck a pose as if preparing to serve a volleyball. He bellowed, "Sea Cucumber Possession! Golden Right Leg!"
Boom!
Ethel was kicked like a soccer ball, soaring through the air in a perfect arc before crashing into a Talon warrior.
The Talon, trying to catch the Court of Owls' judge, completely miscalculated the impact force and was knocked over, landing in a disheveled heap.
"Yeah! What a shot!"
Allen sighed melodramatically. "If only I hadn't had too much seaweed soup back then, triggering my gout and forcing me into early retirement—I would've led the national team to win the World Cup."
After his moment of self-indulgence, he quickly turned to support his teammates.
Allen dashed to the barely breathing Ethel and launched another kick.
"Finishing Move—Golden Sea Cucumber!"
Once again, Ethel was sent flying toward another Talon warrior.
Having learned from the previous mistake, the Talon didn't try to catch him but swiftly dodged aside.
"But you can't dodge this—Justice Flying Kick!"
The Talon avoided the obvious attack but failed to evade Allen's unexpected move.
With a swift mid-air kick, Allen struck the warrior in the waist.
Though not instantly fatal, the injury was severe enough that the Talon needed time to recover—after all, even the Bacchus Factor and Amber Gold took time to work.
"Crow Takes Flight!"
Allen continued his rampage, leaping up, curling his body mid-air, and then crashing down onto an enemy—flattening them with his full weight.
He picked up two fallen Talons' blades and tossed them to Dick and Jason, easing their battle.
"Huh, turns out I can use secondary weapons."
Allen stared at his left hand in surprise. The Palladium battle blade was now coated in a layer of shadow energy, granting it the same shadow-enhanced cutting effect.
With his weapon disadvantage resolved, Allen swiftly took down his opponents.
He then grabbed another fallen blade, clenched it between his teeth, and struck a pose. His muffled voice declared, "I promised her... I wouldn't lose again."
"I am the strongest swordsman, Dawnlight Zoro."
An awkward silence fell over the battlefield.
For a moment, both sides seemed to reach a mutual understanding.
His accent carried a distinct "scallion pancake and green onion" flavor.
Then, in a flash, Allen launched himself at the remaining Talons.
Blades flashed relentlessly as he fought six enemies at once—without breaking a sweat.
At this moment, Allen was not fighting alone. Both past and present selves battled together.
His arms slashed fiercely, his head bobbed and weaved, even the sword in his mouth swung wildly—fully embodying the essence of a madman's Three-Sword Style.
Dick and Jason wisely stepped back, avoiding the chaotic melee. Allen's attacks had no distinction between friend or foe—getting caught in the crossfire was too risky.
Within moments, Allen stood proudly amidst the fallen enemies.
Clang!
He spat out the blade in his mouth.
"This move is strong, but damn, it's hard on the jaw."
Allen flexed his mouth, loosening his jaw muscles.
"We need to find Bruce and get out of here before more enemies arrive," Dick urged.
This was the Court of Owls' stronghold—who knew how many more Talons were lurking?
They had already witnessed the Talons' terrifying prowess, rivaling that of seasoned superheroes. If not for their identical owl-themed armor, they'd likely be dead already.
Well, except for Allen.
This guy hadn't even looked remotely strained the entire time.
And if anyone mistook him for a fool... that was their mistake.
They had been completely lost in their search for Bruce—until Allen devised a plan to infiltrate the enemy's lair.
Allen gathered the fallen Talons' weapons, looting throwing knives from their bodies.
Using a grappling rope, he strapped the blades to his back and tucked the throwing knives close to his body.
"Beneath immortals, I am invincible! Against immortals, I trade one-for-one! As the Left Thousand-Man Commander, I shall fight you fiends to the death—Hyaaah!"
Allen charged down a corridor, completely forgetting his teammates.
"Keep up! Keep up!"
Dick and Jason sighed. They turned a corner—only to find Allen already gone.
Jason muttered, "Let him do his thing. Finding Bruce is more important."
Allen's strength was undeniable. If he ran into danger, they wouldn't be much help anyway.
Yaaah…
Yaaah…
Yaaah…
…
After running and shouting for a while, Allen's throat was dry—but he hadn't encountered a single enemy.
Cough cough… Is this place a maze?
He glanced around, realizing he was surrounded by winding corridors, completely lost.
He stopped running and strolled leisurely through the labyrinth.
After a while, he made an observation.
That observation was… nothing useful at all.
"Anybody home?"
"If no one's here, I'm coming in."
"A kind soul, please buy a nuke! I'm just a poor little girl selling nuclear warheads."
"Calling Delta-4, calling Delta-4! This is Delta-2! The containment has failed—we're evacuating! Repeat, we're evacuating!"
"Question: What reigns supreme over all? Hint: It's not OAA, not The First Firmament, and not the Overvoid. Answer: 404."
"Hey, author! If you don't give me a hint soon, I'll die right here!"
…
The hidden Talons, watching Allen mutter nonsense to himself, felt their scalps tingle.
Had Bruce fallen so far that he associated with this lunatic?
…
Turning a corner, Allen entered a spacious hall.
Rows of stone coffins were neatly arranged, their lids all open.
Allen peered into one, finding it filled with a glowing green liquid—but otherwise empty.
These were the Court of Owls' storage containers for their Talons. The liquid inside was a special mixture of Bacchus Factor and Amber Gold—capable of reviving the dead and placing them under control.
"I get it now."
Allen's eyes lit up. "This is a grand tomb—I need to use the Dragon-Seeking Technique to navigate!"
He grabbed two swords, balanced one atop the other, and spun them like a compass.
Chanting nonsense, he awaited the sword's direction.
When it finally stopped spinning, it pointed to a corridor.
"Well, well, whaddaya know! The ancestors' methods really work!"
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