Gun of Ashes

The high temperature ignited the remaining weapons in the carriage, those countless flaming bullets.

Lorenzo exerted all his strength to climb onto the carriage, but even so, he was a step too late. The ammunition from the weapons ignited and exploded, causing a sympathetic detonation within the narrow carriage.

Shattered shrapnel, surging high temperatures, boiling flames.

The sturdy carriage was instantly twisted and deformed as if kneaded by a giant, charred black by the momentary high heat, resembling the framework of a giant’s corpse.

The powerful impact cleared the snow within dozens of meters, creating a piece of pure land in the harsh weather, maintaining this blankness for at least several seconds before snowflakes slowly fell again.

The tracks below also fractured, causing the train to jolt violently, nearly derailing.

Lorenzo stood on the roof of the carriage, ensuring the continuation of the plan. There were not too many explosives inside, rather high-temperature flaming bullets.

All of this was Lorenzo’s trap. He might not be an excellent detective, but he was an excellent deceiver, a ruthless demon hunter.

He had prepared for so long to kill Lawrence, gripping everything he could hold tightly, even stones, swinging them down with force to smash his skull.

The carriage was like a combustion chamber, its core temperature could reach thousands of degrees in an instant, even melting steel, let alone flesh and blood.

This was a death furnace.

But Lorenzo remained vigilant, staring into the blinding sea of fire until the scent of ash wafted through the wind.

A fiery nail sword whizzed through the air, the powerful wind pressure causing Lorenzo’s heart to palpitate. He simultaneously raised his nail sword and folding blade, and with a loud crash, the weapons fractured, the shattered blades slicing into his body.

The speed was too fast; Lorenzo could only see those burning eyes. Then another sharp nail sword slashed his body. He gripped the broken sword, attempting to counterattack. His eyes finally caught up with the high-speed figure, but it was an unknown abomination.

”I told you, I’m your teacher. I taught you all your skills.”

The demon spoke slowly, the blood not yet dropped, solidified on the nail sword, glowing with a crimson hue.

Then the red shadow swept upwards, and Lorenzo instinctively raised to block the swift strike, but immediately a returning blade hit his wrist. He couldn’t discern Lawrence’s moves, and then a new cold glint fell.

The pain came one after another, from two swords.

Lorenzo knew he couldn’t continue like this; he retreated vigorously, tossing out the Winchester from his waist. The dragon breath bullet released, the blazing curtain of flame interrupting the chaotic snow and temporarily obstructing Lawrence’s pursuit.

No, it didn’t interrupt, the nail sword pierced through the air, directly penetrating Lorenzo’s gun-wielding arm. The enormous force on the nail sword knocked him back onto the roof, the endless cold wind dispersing the flame curtain of the dragon’s breath, with the demon treading the flames towards him.

”Courage, skill, strength, cunning.”

Lorenzo struggled to climb up, whispering about the teachings during his time with the Demon Hunting Order.

His twisted joints were forcibly realigned by his muscles. He violently pulled out the nail sword piercing through his arm, groaning in pain.

The Secret Blood healed the terrifying injury; it might kill a person, but for a demon hunter, it was not enough.

”Give up, Lorenzo, you have no hope of victory.”

Lawrence said.

He perfectly suppressed Lorenzo. This demon hunter had calculated much, whether it was the snow, this desolate area, or the train full of weapons, or the explosion that could almost instantly evaporate a person. Lorenzo did everything he could to strategize against Lawrence. His plans were nearly perfect.

...A wild dog trying to bite a tiger can only do this.

But under that absolute power, everything seemed so fragile and worthless.

Lawrence was now bare-chested, intricate inscriptions covering his body like tattoos. The injuries Lorenzo previously inflicted healed at a visible speed. Twisted lumps of flesh dangled from one side of his chest, bearing a sleeping face, eerily terrifying.

The box behind him had shattered, the nail swords within fallen out, tied by the tattered red robe around his waist.

Lawrence dual-wielded the nail swords, his back to the sea of fire, appearing like the angel with a fire sword from myth.

”How terrifying... Is this the power of the Holy Grail? Even this doesn’t kill him.”

Lorenzo smiled bitterly; he didn’t hurry to attack but instead reached into his bosom for a cigarette case.

The delicate cigarette case had also been pierced in the previous stab; Lorenzo could barely extract a half-smoked cigarette to clamp between his lips, pressing it against the remaining flames beside him, finally managing to light it in the cold wind.

”It’s not time to concede yet... It’s only just beginning.”

The descending blizzard again blurred his figure; in angles Lawrence could not see, Lorenzo intently watched the pocket watch.

”You know, Dean, I’ve never believed in fate, destiny, or predestination... Of course, I wouldn’t dare say that when I was with the Order, after all, you were a Shangdafeng demon hunter, even the Pope would consult you about the unknown future.”

He slowly narrated, actually buying time as well. He needed time for his damaged body to recover. Lawrence also understood this, but he wasn’t in a hurry. He maintained an absolute advantage, an absolute confidence, believing nothing could change the battle’s outcome because he was destined not to die here.

”I’ve always thought those were the words of charlatans, what destined future. If fate says you are destined to drown, just stay away from the sea. If it says you’ll become a supreme villain, then do good deeds.

I don’t believe in these destiny-related ghost things, like you’re destined to do something... No one can force me to do anything!”

The demon hunter raised the nail sword again, the smooth blade reflecting distorted light.

”I thought I would always hold that mindset until after the Night of the Holy Arrival...”

Weird laughter echoed in the cold wind, like a menacing evil ghost.

”In that moment, I suddenly understood; damn, this ghost thing is really sinister. No matter how you run, you can’t escape.”

”Then what are your ideals?”

Like listening to a dead man’s last words, Lawrence still had time to squander.

The grey shadow tilted its head, fiery white flames boiling and burning behind the curtain of snow.

”Of course, it’s to eradicate demons.”

”That’s somewhat unreachable, even delusional.”

”But ideals, aren’t they called ideals precisely because they are unreachable?”

Lawrence was momentarily stunned, then uncontrollably laughed, admiring the burning figure, offering praise.

”Not bad at all, Lorenzo.”

”Of course.”

Lorenzo responded, tossing the cigarette butt into the wind, with the rising Secret Blood, new armor covered his body.

”It’s like I once thought I was the flame burning away sin, but later realized I was just the ashes with residual warmth.”

”But whether it’s firewood or embers, as long as they can burn demons, it’s enough, right?”

In the blizzard, the Black Knight gripped the nail sword, the blade covered in Holy Silver slightly lowered, and flames burst from the gaps in the armor.

[Secret Blood Awakening 29%]