Chapter 81: The Frenzied LeBron

"Is there truly no limitation to the use of this rift in space and time? Isn’t that too overpowered?" Link couldn't help but furrow his brow. Fortunately, another group of reinforcements arrived just then—the Knights of the Silver Hand, who had been able to come because the hellhounds had ceased their assault on Chinkor Town.

Link entrusted the lesser enemies and the Skeleton King to his subordinates, while he mounted Shadow and charged straight for LeBlanc. When LeBlanc caught sight of Link, his face twisted into a savage sneer. "Neil Night, you damned little wretch, I'll kill you for sure!"

With a roar, LeBlanc unleashed a barrage of earth spikes at Link. Seeing this, Link abandoned his ride, Shadow, and executed the Flowing Wave Step, deftly dodging each spike without losing momentum as he closed in on LeBlanc.

LeBlanc snorted coldly, erecting an earthen wall to block Link's path. He then raised his right hand and conjured more than a dozen stone spears, hurling them at Link as soon as he breached the wall.

But Link refused to meet the attack head-on. Using the Flowing Wave Step, he weaved left and right, and with the Mighty Vajra Palm, he struck down each spear, rendering LeBlanc's assault utterly ineffective. Yet LeBlanc neither appeared surprised nor angered; as though he had anticipated Link's prowess, he cast his spell again, conjuring over forty stone spears, densely suspended in the air like a bed of needles.

This sight astonished Link. To manifest more than forty stone spears at once—was that truly something a fifth-tier mage could accomplish? Even a sixth-tier might struggle to do so. And the magical expenditure from such multiple control was not a simple sum; it increased exponentially. Could LeBlanc really withstand such immense drain on his magical power?

For a moment, Link’s mind was heavy with questions, but LeBlanc allowed him no time to ponder. More than forty stone spears hurtled toward him like steel pipes in flight, enough to make one's scalp tingle at the mere sight.

This time, Link was forced to retreat while parrying, doing his utmost to evade the barrage. Seeing this, LeBlanc let out a cruel, chilling laugh. "You little wretch, you’re good at dodging, aren’t you? Let's see how long you can keep it up!"

As he spoke, he conjured even more spears, surpassing his previous display. Link drew a sharp breath—what on earth was going on with LeBlanc? He seemed not to care about magical exhaustion at all. Could it be that he had no need to worry about it, or did his recovery rate render the cost irrelevant?

Facing this relentless onslaught of spears, Link was truly in peril.

"Old charlatan, have you forgotten that Neil isn't the only one here?" At that moment, a cold, clear female voice rang out. Lin Xi descended from the sky, landing a punch at LeBlanc. Startled, LeBlanc hastily erected an earthen wall in defense, but Lin Xi's fist struck with a force greater even than Link’s Mighty Vajra Palm. The wall shattered instantly, and her punch crashed squarely into LeBlanc’s face.

LeBlanc’s entire aged visage caved in, his neck stretching at an unnatural angle as he was sent flying. A blow like that would have killed any ordinary man beyond all hope.

But having witnessed LeBlanc's monstrous regenerative power before, Lin Xi did not believe he would die so easily. She landed, dashed forward, seized his still-falling right leg, and with a yank, swung him to the ground like a ragdoll. The sickening crack of breaking bones resounded, as though his entire skeleton had shattered.

Yet Lin Xi did not stop. She rained blow after blow upon him, pummeling LeBlanc into a grotesque pulp—his body a battered heap, covered in sunken fist marks. The dull thuds of impact made even Link, who had hurried over, wince in sympathy.

Amazingly, not even this could kill LeBlanc. He did not bleed, resembling a mass of clay—his form was hideously warped, but he clung to life and would almost certainly regenerate.

After witnessing this, Link frowned deeply. LeBlanc’s condition was utterly unnatural—no human could possess such vitality. What’s more, he seemed to have inexhaustible magical power, able to cast potent spells without end. It was as though he had become an undying revenant.

Yet there was not the slightest trace of necromantic aura about him; he was a living being. Where, then, did this monstrous vitality come from? In Link’s memory, only that so-called Holy Spirit, Nyarlathotep, possessed such regenerative power.

After about a minute of beating, Lin Xi finally relented. By now, LeBlanc was a bizarre, misshapen thing—any normal person would have been long dead, yet he clung to life. Link furrowed his brow. "What in the world is this old charlatan? Why won’t he die?"

Approaching to inspect, Link called Shadow, who dashed over at his command and tore LeBlanc’s right arm clean off with a savage bite.

Lin Xi raised her eyebrows, about to ask what Link intended, when LeBlanc, just regaining consciousness, let out a howl of agony. From his severed stump, grotesque black tendrils sprouted, though not a drop of blood was shed.

So revolting was the sight that Lin Xi stepped back in disgust. "What on earth is that?"

Link glanced at the tendrils, then at the spatial rift, and said gravely, "It must be connected to the rift in space and time. His vitality is terrifying, but if we sever and destroy his limbs, he can’t regenerate without reclaiming them."

Watching the tendrils reaching for the severed arm, Link narrowed his eyes and unleashed a blast of fire magic. The tendrils erupted in flames, and LeBlanc writhed in agony.

Lin Xi watched in surprise—not at Link’s ruthlessness, but at his prowess. She had seen many who practiced both martial and magical arts, but few had attained Link’s level in both.

Surprised though she was, Lin Xi asked nothing. She merely observed Link with bright eyes, lost in her own thoughts.

Meanwhile, Link carefully studied the burning tendrils. He discovered that once incinerated, they did not regenerate, and the wounds remained unhealed. Clearly, these tendrils were the source of LeBlanc’s unholy vitality; so long as his limbs were severed and the tendrils destroyed, his immortality would be nullified.

He proceeded accordingly, amputating LeBlanc’s remaining limbs and burning the tendrils, reducing the man to a mere stump. Though Lin Xi showed a fleeting hint of pity, the inhuman form LeBlanc now wore quickly dispelled it. There was no need for mercy when dealing with such a monster—she was not the kind to weep or beg for the enemy’s sake.

When all was done, their allies had already finished off the Skeleton King and the hellhounds, and now gathered around. At the sight of LeBlanc reduced to a limbless husk, some felt a pang of sympathy, but upon learning he had become a tentacled abomination, all pity vanished. Remembering his summoning of monsters to attack Chinkor Town, their emotions swiftly turned to righteous wrath and grim satisfaction—a long-awaited vengeance at last!

Casting spells required intense concentration. With his limbs severed and wracked by agony, LeBlanc could not possibly focus enough to cast. Moreover, Link and his companions would not allow him the chance—at the slightest sign of action, they would break his concentration with violence.

LeBlanc understood this, and so remained still, merely fixing Link with a cold, hate-filled glare, eyes burning with such venom and fury one might believe they could reduce Link to ashes.

Link, however, was unconcerned. After meeting LeBlanc’s eyes for a moment, he spoke: "By the Father God above, LeBlanc Anthony, you, once the High Archbishop of the Star God Church, have conspired with heretics, degraded yourself into an inhuman monster, and brought suffering upon the innocent faithful. How can you face the Star God you profess to worship?"

LeBlanc snorted with contempt. "Neil Night, spare me your sanctimonious drivel. If it weren’t for you, you damned little bastard, would I have ended up like this? It’s all your fault—everything! If not for you, none of this would have happened! Why don’t you just die? You damned little—"

A crisp slap interrupted LeBlanc’s increasingly vicious tirade, sending several teeth flying. The blow came not from Link, nor from the Father God’s followers, but from Lin Xi, who had nothing to do with the church.

Everyone stared at her in surprise, but Link’s expression was cold as he said, "Old charlatan, watch your mouth, or I’ll tear off your jaw."

Upon hearing this, the first thought on everyone’s mind was, "What a formidable woman." The second was, "What is her relationship with the Archbishop?" Their gazes drifted to Link.

Link knew that his predecessor, Neil Night, had been close to this mysterious woman, but with his memories unclear, he dared not acknowledge her outright. He instead turned the subject to LeBlanc: "LeBlanc Anthony, your sins are so grave that not even all the waters of the four seas could cleanse them. Ordinarily, I would purify your soul with holy light, condemning you to eternal damnation. Yet the Father is merciful and would spare you such a fate. If you confess the method to close the spatial rift, your soul will not be so harshly punished."

LeBlanc sneered, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Neil Night, drop the act. As the leader of your faith, do you truly not know whether gods exist? Ha! Punish my soul, will you? I’d like to see if your so-called Father can do a thing to me! You want me to close the spatial rift? Very well, I shall grant your wish—and close these rifts with my soul!"

At this, a wave of dread swept over the onlookers. LeBlanc’s face grew grim as he bit through his tongue. Instantly, countless black tendrils erupted from his tongue, rapidly spreading until they burst from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth—transforming him into a true monstrosity. So abhorrent was the sight that the crowd instinctively stepped back.

Then, with a guttural, maniacal voice, LeBlanc roared, "Neil Night! Church of the Father! Today, you shall all be annihilated by the wrath of the creatures from negative space. Come, die with my son! Hahahaha!"

"Not good! Stop him!" Link shouted, but it was already too late. The black tendrils coalesced into a mass, burst from LeBlanc’s body, and hurtled straight for the rift in space and time.