Chapter Twenty-One: One Dies, One Surrenders—Qi Falls into a Strange Coma

Curiously, the device also displayed the combat power of the five fighter jets: 40, 39, 41, 40, and 47. Qi found this amusing, unsure whether the combat power indicated was that of the jets themselves or if it included the pilots, and he wondered how the device measured a pilot’s skill in the first place.

He was similarly unsure whether this function was something the device was originally designed to do—testing the combat power of technological weapons—or if the madman had added it in as an extra. Qi leaned toward the former; he simply couldn’t believe that lunatic would be so generous as to upgrade the device for him.

The disparity in combat power alone revealed the gap between the two sides. After failing to communicate, the five fighter jets launched their attack. Unsurprisingly, their bullets merely sparked harmlessly off the giant serpents, serving as nothing more than a mild irritation. The two serpents paid no heed to them, allowing the five buzzing flies to circle overhead.

The serpents, however, had clearly been provoked to wrath; their attacks grew significantly in both force and frequency, their combat power surging to around 270. Fresh wounds appeared on their bodies from time to time, but fortunately, the nearby residences were far enough away, and the people had already been evacuated. Qi observed it all from a blind spot, hidden from view.

Seeing their bullets had no effect, the fighter pilots decided to use missiles, and received approval from above. The serpents, unconcerned with these little iron gnats, remained indifferent until five missiles exploded against their bodies. In the instant of detonation, the device displayed a combat power spike to over 180.

The two serpents shrieked, scales flying as their bodies became a mess of blood and flesh. Especially their heads—dazed by the blast. Yet these were no ordinary creatures; after only a couple of seconds of confusion, they recovered, now thoroughly enraged. They rose up, side by side, and unleashed a blast of freezing air and gale-force winds toward the five jets.

In the sky, these forces combined into a blizzard. The jets tried to escape with their speed, but the plummeting temperature and violent winds slowed them down. Before they had covered a hundred yards, their speed was dropping drastically, and the blizzard loomed closer, threatening to swallow them whole. Qi appeared before the oncoming storm.

He was no saint, but he dreaded the prospect of Ayase’s endless lectures if he let the pilots die—after so much effort to ease their relationship, he didn’t want things to grow tense again. So he chose to intervene now. Besides, he hardly looked human at the moment: three pairs of bat-like wings on his back, two bony horns atop his head, a face both sinister and strikingly beautiful, his skin tinged purple. He had chosen this demonic form after discovering that the Black Cat was likely a fan of all things dark and gothic.

Qi, fully prepared, brought all six wings before him, and at the moment he blocked the blizzard, he unleashed fivefold their normal strength. With a combat power of 340, he easily withstood the frost storm. Once it was over, he released the burst of power, leaving only a slight reddening of the wings and mild muscle strain—nothing that couldn’t be healed in seconds with spiritual energy.

This was one of the improvements Qi had pondered after his last battle: unleashing a burst of power only when necessary, while maintaining peak condition the rest of the time. This allowed for longer, sustained combat, and the sudden surge of power was more covert than constantly remaining at maximum output. Before the burst, his combat power displayed as a mere 68. More importantly, he could risk drawing a little more power, knowing that any minor injuries could be swiftly healed at little cost.

After truly clashing with a master, these lessons learned in battle were both delightful and astonishing. Of course, this was thanks to his recent transformation and acquisition of spiritual energy; future improvements would come more slowly, unless some sudden inspiration struck. Still, these post-battle summaries had become a habit for Qi, anchoring and strengthening his path forward.

Once the jets had escaped to a safe distance, they hovered nearby, witnessing the arrival of a striking, devilish figure. Was this a sci-fi movie? Why would a demon save humans—had he turned over a new leaf? With such thoughts, they reported the situation and the results of their attack to their superiors.

Qi ignored them, retracted his wings, and with a gentle beat, soared high above the twin serpents. The two watched him warily, their innate instincts sensing danger, yet at the same time, this small figure in the sky seemed too weak to pose any real threat.

At this moment, Qi wondered if he might be able to knock them unconscious and toss them into his Codex. Lately, he had become enamored with the feeling of making money—especially after the madman told him he could have anything he could imagine. He now felt that one could never have too much energy value.

With that in mind, Qi poured four times his usual power into his wings and swept behind the green serpent. He broke through the barrier of wind blades without the slightest hindrance and landed a fivefold-strong kick on the back of the serpent’s head, which was the size of a car. Blood splattered, bones shattered, and the green serpent collapsed heavily onto the mountainside, convulsed a few times, and died.

Qi froze for a moment, surprised by the outcome, before recalling that their base strength had only been just above two hundred, whereas the kick he had just delivered carried a combat power of 340. A one-hit kill was no surprise. He had miscalculated, assuming they would be as tough as the earlier blizzard, which had combined to just over three hundred in combat power. Perhaps he should call it attack power instead? Otherwise, it just doesn’t sound right, he mused inwardly.

A flash of terror appeared in the white serpent’s eyes. In pure strength, this flying creature was less than half as strong as itself, but its speed allowed it to break through defenses instantly and, with special attacks, turn its brains to mush in a single strike.

The clever white serpent slowly retreated, hissing, feigning bravado. Qi had no intention of letting it escape; he swept a wing to block its path. “Submit, or die,” he declared, imitating the domineering lines from the novels he’d read.

The white serpent opened its massive jaws and spat out a white demon core, its body glowing with a brilliant white light as it charged straight toward the town. Qi’s eyes flashed coldly, and he again delivered a flying kick to the back of the serpent’s head. However, the gleaming white light around it absorbed most of the impact, and whatever force remained was further diminished. In the end, it only left the white serpent dizzy for a few seconds.

Qi clicked his tongue in annoyance, declining to use more force. While the serpent was dazed, he pounded its head repeatedly. The serpent’s shrieks grew weaker and weaker, and Qi paused appropriately.

In just a few seconds, he had landed several hundred blows, his arms suffering considerable damage. “I’ll ask you one last time: submit, or die. I don’t have much patience.”

The white serpent lowered its head weakly and let out a mournful cry—submission. Qi’s expression softened slightly as he summoned the Codex, beckoning the serpent inside. After a moment’s hesitation, the serpent slithered toward the small object.

Its head touched the Codex but was stopped by an invisible barrier. “Don’t resist,” Qi said impatiently.

A flash of humiliation passed through the serpent’s eyes. Closing them, its massive body—many tens of feet long—was swallowed whole by the basketball-sized Codex.

“White Frost Python, worth five hundred energy points.” Not that the madman’s word really meant anything when it came to value, Qi thought with a hint of sarcasm.

“Green Wind Python corpse: I’ll give you two-fifty.”

Qi’s mouth twitched as he flexed his now fully healed body. He glanced at the fighter jets and helicopters a hundred yards away, and at the reckless reporters and their cameras inside the helicopters.

Should he use this chance to find the Black Cat? He decided against it; it would only cause trouble for her.

“Excuse me, can you understand what we’re saying?” the intrepid reporter called out, microphone trembling slightly.

Qi had no intention of answering. In a flash, he broke the sound barrier and vanished into the distance. Not a bad haul this time, though the outside world was about to be thrown into chaos—but that hardly concerned him. He thought about it as he played on his computer.

He vaulted over the wall into Ayase’s yard and found the windows closed. He shrugged—so, even after their relationship had thawed, the windows would never be open to welcome him. With a gentle tap of his toes, he leapt up and landed steadily before the window, reaching out to open it.

Time seemed to freeze. Qi’s expression turned rigid, for the situation inside was this: two young girls were about to change clothes, clad only in their underwear, bending over to remove their skirts, their cute panties and perfectly shaped backsides facing the window. The only relief was that neither girl had noticed his arrival; he quickly let go of the window, intending to slip away.

“Since you’re here, you might as well enjoy the view,” came the madman’s voice. Suddenly, Qi found himself unable to move, forced to witness the coming of hell.

Earlier that afternoon, Ayase had gone shopping for clothes with Kirino. Since her house was nearby, they had come over to hang out for a while. Before long, they decided to try on their new outfits again. Ayase had tried to refuse, afraid that Qi might return at just this moment—she didn’t want to rush her friend, especially her one and only dearest friend. But she also worried that acting suspicious might arouse Kirino’s curiosity, so she kept glancing toward the window, a habit that nearly drew Kirino’s attention.

In the end, she had no choice but to go ahead and change, comforted only by the fact that Qi was returning later than usual today—if he just stayed away for these few minutes, all would be well. Not seeing him outside the window had eased her mind somewhat.

As Ayase finished removing her skirt, she glanced instinctively toward the window. Their eyes met. Ayase’s mouth fell open, and before she could scream, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Kirino turned, puzzled, and upon seeing Qi at the window, was momentarily stunned—then felt a hand cover her own mouth.

Turning, she saw Ayase’s eyes blazing with fury, teeth clenched. Qi awkwardly opened the window and crawled inside, but slipped and crashed heavily to the floor, a mouthful of blood spraying out before he lost consciousness.