131. Fierce Battle
In the pitch-black, hand-reachless dark corridor, the bat-woman leaned against the cold, damp wall, blinking twice before opening her eyes to reveal a pair of pure black pupils. She then pricked up her ears and twitched her delicate nose, sniffing the darkness.
Soon, the woman grimaced as if offended, her pale and alluring face twisted into a fierce expression. She stepped forward with her two sleek, arched legs and sprinted wildly toward the bonfire deeper in the corridor.
Arriving at the spot, a disheveled Robin Van Helsing had left his designated position. Holding a torch, he cowered in a corner, glancing fearfully over, while the other captive was nowhere to be found!
A roar erupted!
The bat-woman lunged angrily at Robin, claws outstretched.
But midair, a shadow flashed down like lightning above her head.
Dean descended holding a tapered stalactite, thrusting it into the woman's back. The sharp tip pierced through skin and flesh instantly, penetrating her body.
Blood splattered in a glaring arc through the air.
A piercing howl echoed throughout the cavernous hall. Stones rained down from the ceiling; the bonfire was blown aside by a fierce wind; tiny bones scattered into the air.
Robin clutched his ears in agony from the corner.
Dean, still gripping the stalactite in the woman’s back, tensed as a claw struck him and sent him flying.
But midair, limbs flailing rapidly like a weightless cat, he swiftly adjusted his posture, landing squarely on hands and feet before rolling to dissipate the impact.
He rose and looked up.
Staring intently ahead, the grievously wounded bat-woman displayed an extraordinary will to survive. Stooping, she clawed desperately at the weapon embedded in her body, slowly pulling it out with brutal determination.
Blood sprayed wildly, staining the black membrane wings growing fiercely from her shoulder blades, pooling into a crimson lake on the ground.
Dean seized the moment, snapping his right palm straight. A teardrop-shaped spirit board slid from his coat sleeve. He gripped it tightly and flicked it.
The air hissed as a cold gleam slashed across the bat-woman’s face, cutting through an eye and then dragging horizontally across her neck!
But her skin was as tough as leather; an attack that would slice half a neck on a normal person left only a shallow red gash.
That was the end of the sneak attack.
Another roar!
Bloodshot eyes, the woman howled, the sound waves crashing like ocean waves throughout the hall.
Dean and Robin simultaneously groaned, their eardrums stinging as if pricked by needles; fresh blood trickled from their features, their stomachs churning violently!
The cotton strips stuffed into their ears offered no protection whatsoever.
Not just the two men—Dean’s shadowy, mist-like figure controlling the spirit board trembled like boiling water, bubbling with countless irregular black bubbles, losing combat strength and standing stupefied.
Thud!
The woman yanked out the bloodied stalactite and tossed it aside.
Flapping her wings, she vanished in a flash and landed precisely in front of the dazed Dean on the other side.
With a wing stroke, she clawed!
Bang!
Dean was struck like a speeding train, launched five meters into the air, crashing against the sidewall and sliding down to the ground.
His flank and back were torn open, exposing two raw, gaping wounds like infant mouths.
A torrent of blood trailed a large patch of flesh.
His face twisted in pain; eyes tightly shut.
...
The bat-woman growled low again. Using ultrasonic waves to locate him, she flapped her wings and flashed forward in a blink, landing again before Dean.
Coldly, she slashed a claw at the vulnerable spot on his neck!
Dean suddenly opened his eyes, bloodied hands instinctively grabbing the dagger-like claw. The “shadow” by his side entwined around the bat-woman’s body.
Dean released his grip, crouched low, and quickly circled behind her.
Pressing his chest against her back.
His hands and feet instantly locked together, forming a closed grip that shackled the bat-woman’s cold body.
A bare chokehold!
Dean’s hands slowly tightened inward.
The bat-woman wasn’t overly strong and couldn’t break free. Twisting in place with him on her back, her wings beat wildly.
Air roared as stones scattered everywhere, but she just couldn’t reach the blind spot in the middle of her back!
She clawed fiercely at her waist’s giant serpentine thighs and ripped at the iron-chain-like arms around her neck.
But the phantom armor fully covered Dean’s body.
With a sixteen-point mental boost, the protective strength had leveled up, and no matter how she clawed and scratched, not a mark appeared!
Her complexion shifted from pale to flushed red; her charming face grew a pig-like snout and furry wrinkles, transforming into a black bat’s head.
She opened her mouth to roar again.
But Dean’s arms clamped tightly around her windpipe and vocal cords, silencing her.
Simultaneously, he mentally commanded the spirit board hovering nearby to spiral upward, stabbing mercilessly at the bat’s bleeding eyes.
Puncture after puncture!
Piercing the eyeballs, reaching deep into the brain.
Dean’s face twisted as he clenched his steel teeth, summoning all his strength. Hands and feet continued tightening inward, causing the woman’s neck vertebrae to crack audibly.
He pushed so hard that his waist and back wounds exposed intestines and white bones.
The bat-woman flapped her wings furiously!
...
Robin, who had been hiding in the corner observing, was utterly stunned by the brutal battle.
In less than a minute, the entire cave seemed to have undergone a minor earthquake. Fierce collisions, tearing sounds, and ping-pong strikes shattered stalactites all over the ground. Fragmented white bones and withered branches lay scattered in pools of blood, the air heavy with a pungent metallic stench.
The two battered figures clung together, defying gravity as they tumbled and crashed through the cavern!
Each collision echoed like thunder in the air.
Thud!
At one moment, the bat-woman fell beside the bonfire. Her glossy black wings fluttered twice before going still.
A blade-like spirit board, embedded without a handle, pierced her left eye. Blood slid down her furry face, neck, and chest, soaking the ground.
Dean’s tall, lean figure staggered out from beneath her.
His black coat dyed crimson with blood, the wound at his waist enlarged to expose blackened kidneys and intestines. His chest heaved violently like a bellows.
Yet, supported by medium-level ironman expertise and a physique surpassing fifteen points,
He dragged himself, despite wounds that would kill an ordinary man, and extracted the spirit board from the monster’s eye socket.
His expression darkened.
The bat-woman’s mangled wound was sprouting dense blood threads, weaving and pulling together to close the injury.
It was relentlessly self-healing—likely to revive in about ten minutes!
Dean glanced at the system prompt—
“You have defeated the fantasy creature—the bat-woman. Proficiency +10, Combat Lv.2 (210→220/300).”
The supernatural hunter talent had not triggered.
“Impressive, Detective Dean. A mere human body can seriously wound the monster I wrote, but you’re badly injured. Can you hold on?” Robin crossed the bloody mess and supported Dean’s body, walking toward the corridor exit, nervously glancing at the gruesome gash across his waist and abdomen. Blood continued to pour out relentlessly.
“Not dying anytime soon,” Dean gritted through the bone-shattering pain, forcing a weak smile. He shoved the intestines back inside and pressed firmly, then his battered body began convulsing with epileptic spasms.
“What’s wrong? Don’t scare me!”
“I…I’m…fine. Hiss…just healing! Go quickly!”
“Why are your bones moving? Do you have rats under your skin?”
“Shut up! Just run!”
...
After a frantic dash,
Cold, fresh air filled their nostrils.
They emerged from the dark, narrow corridor to the riverbank. Looking up, the moon hung full and bright, its silvery light shimmering on the Telaki River, illuminating two excited faces!
“You did it, buddy! You broke the book’s plot and saved me early!” Robin turned to Dean excitedly, then his eyes froze.
He saw a completely unfamiliar man beside him—black hair and eyes, an energetic Asian face, a 1.8-meter-tall body oddly clad in a 1.9-meter loose, bloodstained black coat and straight pants, looking somewhat ridiculous.
His belly emitted continuous gurgling noises.
“Who are you? Where’s Dean?”
“Do I look unrecognizable without makeup? I’m Dean. No time to explain—run with me!” Dean smiled through sweat, grabbed Robin’s arm, and jumped onto the riverside path, heading toward the Virginia Street Bridge veiled in mist not far away.
“Stop joking! Makeup can’t change height and build! Your waist wound is gone, too. Even the best magician can’t do that,” Robin panted, struggling to keep up. Being locked in the cave had severely depleted his stamina; he was breathless after a few steps.
“The world is vast, mysteries endless, and magic everywhere!” Dean quickened his pace, determined to reach the bridge before the bat-woman revived, and to replenish energy.
...
Less than five minutes later,
The two ran up the Virginia Street Bridge along the river path.
“Robin!”
A woman in a red dress staggered forward, tears of joy streaming down her face.
Robin smiled faintly at Dean and opened his arms to embrace his long-awaited dream goddess, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her into a spin.
“I’m back! Mary! Your man is back!”
“Sniffle, we won’t be apart again!” Mary pressed her forehead against his chest, feeling his warmth.
Dean looked at the tearful woman, the surreal sensation growing stronger.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the crisis isn’t over. Now’s not the time for lovey-dovey!” Dean called out, leading the two toward a nearby car outside the bridge.
Before they reached it,
An old man napping inside the car heard the noise, opened the door, and squinted to see a man in a black trench coat with disheveled flaxen hair, skinny and covered in mud. Despite his gaunt appearance, the old man recognized him instantly.
“Robin, you brat, I knew you were alive!” Marco rushed out, scrutinizing the man excitedly. His whiskers trembled and eyes reddened as he punched the man’s chest heavily. “Where the hell have you been hiding these six months? How did you get yourself into this mess?”
Robin studied the familiar aged face, bewildered.
“Marco, weren’t you in ICU with cancer?”
Smack!
The old man’s eyes blazed as he slapped his son.
“You ungrateful wretch, how dare you curse your father? I’m still strong, I can live at least twenty more years!”
...
“Shit, Detective Dean, you lied to me!” Robin cursed, though a smile crept to his lips.
Dean had already climbed into the car, eagerly pulling chocolate and energy bars from the supply bag, stuffing three down his throat without chewing. The gnawing hunger and exhaustion finally eased.
Still eating, Dean opened the trunk and retrieved the brightly painted orange-yellow McMillan TAC-50 anti-materiel sniper rifle, 1448mm long and weighing 11.8kg, along with numerous accessories.
He placed it on the car hood and began assembling.
Bipod, low-light scope, 5x magnifier, muzzle brake, silencer, loaded with five .50 BMG rounds.
Click-clack.
Lv.3 shooting fully activated.
His movements were concise, swift, fluid, imbued with an indescribable beauty—as if an instinct honed by millions of repetitions.
...
“Who is this lady…” Marco suddenly stammered, eyes fixed intently beyond his son, on the woman in the red dress approaching. Her exquisite face, flowing flaxen hair, and the mole near her mouth matched the woman he had dreamed about exactly.
At that moment, the sixty-plus-year-old Marco froze, heart pounding, eyes only for her.
Had his long-deceased wife returned?
“Mary?”
“Robin told me about you,” the woman said, gently grasping the old man’s hand and linking arms with Robin, smiling sweetly. “By the way, I’m his wife.”
A wave of bittersweet emotion surged through Marco’s nose, chilling his heart. A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
Robin looked at his father, a flicker of pity in his eyes before pride replaced it.
“Yes, Marco, you despised my work and branded me a third-rate writer, but it has become reality. From now on, Mary is my wife—my most perfect creation.”
...
Click—
A muffled sound startled the three.
They turned to see a menacing sniper rifle mounted on the car hood.
The detective lay prone, observing through the scope.
“God! Are you crazy, Dean? This is Reno city—no firearms allowed!” Marco panicked, grabbing Dean’s shoulder. “Where did you get that sniper rifle? Who are you going to kill?”
“No time to explain! Everyone stay quiet and hide behind me!” Dean shrugged off his hand, voice resolute. “The bat-woman is coming!”
“Also, cover your ears!”
The old man looked at his serious son and timid Mary, swallowing his questions.
...
Huff, huff!
Through the scope, a huge black shadow with vast wings streaked through the air, wingbeats flashing like flickers.
At four hundred meters, the distance shrank by twenty or thirty meters with each breath.
She headed straight for the Bronco, as if sensing the trio’s location.
On her body and face, all the horrific wounds and fractures inflicted by Dean had vanished, her fur gleaming silver in the moonlight. She was as elegant as a vampire visiting a manor at night.
The bat-woman had indeed fully revived as described in the book!
Dean began controlling his almost imperceptible breathing and every muscle…
Right hand gripping the stock, index finger lightly resting on the trigger, left hand clutching the grip tightly and evenly, the buttstock nestled under his collarbone.
Head down, chin lowered, eyes aligned with the sight.
His body coordinated, forming a stable rigid structure with the TAC-50.
Lv.3 shooting became instinct.
Inhale…
Through the scope, the fierce bat shadow charged straight ahead.
Three hundred meters… two hundred meters.
Lungs full of oxygen, breath held.
Dean’s finger and trigger merged as one.
He squeezed.
Bang!
The gunshot cracked sharply.
The snow-white car body shuddered suddenly.
Dust billowed beneath the wheels, and the deafening noise over ninety decibels tore through the silent night, echoing down the long street!
The powerful recoil slammed the buttstock into Dean’s shoulder, but he barely moved, regaining stability.
Behind him, the family covering their ears shivered violently, faces pale.
Two hundred meters away, the soaring shadow trembled suddenly, its chest bursting into a spray of blood and flesh before it tumbled like a broken kite into the rushing Telaki River!
(End of chapter)