Chapter 8 "You dare steal my man!" Holy crap! Buster was completely...
Reinhardt could clearly see a foul aura suddenly gushing out from the bottom of the cave, bypassing Buster and Mark's lover, and rushing straight toward him.
They materialized into tentacles, instantly wrapping around Reinhardt's ankles and waist. Then the force receded, and Reinhardt, who had no time to dodge, was pulled along!
Buster was highly perceptive and reacted extremely quickly. He had sensed the thing's presence long before it touched Reinhardt. His hand, wrapped in a half-finger leather glove, immediately lit up with spiritual runes. He reached out to pull at the filth, but his fingers passed straight through the mist, unable to touch it at all!
Reinhardt flew through the air, and Buster reached out to intercept him, but the mist tentacles deftly lifted Reinhardt and bypassed the stone-like roadblock.
The soft golden hair brushed past the slightly parted knuckles. Buster's gaze followed the golden hair and he turned around abruptly. The tall and slender son of the god disappeared right before his eyes!
"Holy shit!" Buster was absolutely furious...
"How dare you steal my people!" The Storm Leader spat, his face contorted with malice.
In the blink of an eye, a two-meter-long giant sword was instantly in his hand.
Buster's face was so dark with rage it seemed to drip ink.
Although the peninsula pier was a notorious gray area, the existence of a restraining spell meant that anyone who tried to resort to violence would meet a violent end. Over time, the number of troublemakers decreased significantly, and the island became exceptionally peaceful.
Many outlaws are happy to choose this place as a temporary transaction point or a stopover point on their journey.
From the moment Mark first saw the leader and Mark, Mark's lover knew they were no benevolent people. However, this perception was masked by their peaceful daily interactions, leading him to mistakenly believe they were actually law-abiding citizens.
It wasn't until he saw the silver light flashing from the greatsword Buster drew and the fierce aura emanating from the other man that he truly realized something.
But the daze lasted only a moment, and Buster had already plunged the greatsword into the ground.
Flames erupted from the tip of the greatsword, instantly shattering the ground into countless spiderweb-like patterns. Centered on the greatsword, the flames rapidly spread along these patterns. Mark's lover, who had never witnessed such a spectacle, was filled with terror as she watched the burning spiderwebs swirl around her and extend backward.
The tomb floor, which had been thoroughly cleaned by countless visitors, developed a terrifying dent. With a deafening roar, the thick tomb floor collapsed and fell downwards!
While Reinhardt was violently demolishing someone else's house out of anger, he could sense what might be happening nearby through the sounds coming from the ground, but he had no time to pay attention. At this moment, his waist, legs, and even chest were covered in a sticky substance.
For the past twenty-one years, his life had been as barren and uninteresting as common sense, so he couldn't find a concrete way to describe what was entangled with him, or even what it was. He only knew that it was making him very uncomfortable, almost suffocating him.
The cemetery ground was softer than he had imagined, and Reinhardt was dragged along for a while before he felt his body go limp.
He was hung upside down.
From his imperfect visual perception, Reinhardt saw steep cliffs on both sides, with a hollowed-out area in the middle that seemed to have no end, whether looking down or up. It appeared to be a crevice in the mountainside, with the open space roughly the width of three Storm Leaders.
Golden hair cascaded down like a waterfall, and the beautiful young man with muddy finger marks on his face secretly added in his mind, "It has to be the Storm Leader lying down."
The foul stench seemed to be emanating from this place, directly beneath him, like a pool of mud. Surrounding the mud were many long, thin objects, like wooden stakes, which Reinhardt couldn't make out clearly at first glance. He only felt a terrible stench, even more foul than the dungeon, making him dizzy.
Fortunately, Reinhardt didn't have eyes; he was just feeling dizzy.
Strangely, he seemed to sense another kind of aura mixed in with the filth.
The filthy tentacles that spread out suspended Reinhardt upside down in mid-air, as if they liked him very much. Countless vines materialized and spread towards Reinhardt.
They wrapped around Reinhardt's other ankle, supported his back, and bound his neck.
Tentacles burrowed inside the trouser legs and loose cuffs, clinging tightly to the skin.
The clothes tucked into the waistband of his upper body were also haphazardly pulled out, making it easier for the tentacles to touch him more forcefully.
The tentacles were not benevolent; every touch seemed to be drawing power from the depths of Reinhardt's soul.
Reinhardt finally understood why it had bypassed the storm to capture him.
—It is yearning for divine power.
It hurt and itched at the same time, and Reinhardt struggled. His golden hair, hanging upside down, swung in the air, and his newly bought clothes were torn in the struggle. The tentacles wrapped around his body without any restraint, and even reached into his trouser legs.
Compared to the Storm Leader, the extremely cold tentacles slowly slid across the fair skin of the waist, ending in the hollow at the base of the spine. It slowly circled around to the front, encircling the slightly soft spot closest to Reinhardt's heart.
Tighten.
They were not gentle; although the pain was not as intense as the whippings he suffered while imprisoned in the dungeon, it was not much better.
What's even more annoying is the itching. In addition to the icy, stinging pain that seeps into your bones, there's an unbearable, agonizing itch that keeps spreading.
Reinhardt gasped for breath, his face turning deathly pale with pain.
His free hands struggled to tear the vines, but the other person grabbed them and tightened their grip around his wrists, binding him.
The poor son of the god could not escape and could only let the tentacles do as they pleased.
Another cold, sticky touch slowly climbed up his neck, like graffiti, leaving sticky marks on the son of the gods' collarbone, before aggressively stroking his jaw. Finally, it covered and wiped away the muddy marks left by the previous evil human.
It's not even as good as a mud print.
The son of the god, who was being strangled and could barely breathe, thought.
At least the mud wouldn't hurt him so much.
The foul aura continued its relentless exploration, and in the blink of an eye, it touched the lips of the Son of God. The latter frowned, clenching his teeth to prevent the aura from succeeding.
Unable to pry open his mouth with his foul breath, he simply reached upwards and touched the tightly closed eyelids of the Son of God.
Clearly, it figured out which place had the most concentrated divine power.
Reinhardt squeezed his eyes shut, but the tentacles had already crawled up to his eyelids.
Suddenly, his brow twitched slightly.
A strikingly colorful flame suddenly burst into Reinhardt's black canvas, which was outlined with intricate and terrifying stripes.
The roaring sound came from inside the cliff face, growing ever closer.
The foul aura naturally sensed the sharp aura rushing towards it. It reacted swiftly, retracting its tentacles before the aura arrived, attempting to completely swallow Reinhardt into its body.
But that force was too fast. In the instant the tentacles closed, the flames broke through the cliff and burst out!
The red flames instantly illuminated the entire space. The foul aura was like a ball of jelly that had been impacted. Its soft body was instantly blasted open at one corner, and its tentacles were also shattered.
The body of the son of the god was lifted up by this enormous force and thrown into the air like a piece of paper.
Immediately afterward, flames flashed. His body flew with the flames to a protruding stone platform suspended in mid-air on the cliff face.
"You're really popular, aren't you? You were snatched away again before I even noticed."
The Storm Leader joked without any restraint, casually putting him down from his shoulder, but instead of focusing on the Son of God, he kept his eyes on the slime-like monster below that was repairing its body.
But as he carried Mark's lover in his hand, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the man was staring intently in the direction of the Son of God.
He frowned slightly before turning his head to look at the Son of God.
A note from the author:
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Storm Leader (enraged): You dare steal my people! You're dead!
Madonna: So this is your person?
Celine: Yo yo yo~~ My person~~
Victoria (covering the ears of the Son of God): Be good, let's let that bking play by himself.
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