Some time later, as our hero fought valiantly against sleepiness–––yawning carelessly as he sat on a random warm rock near the village’s desolate ruins–––Pansy got very itchy all of a sudden. ‘Let’s rock the party!’ The Master Strategist shouted excitedly.

( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── (˚☐˚”)/ Integrity -2.7 (Overcapacity Low-Level) ( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── (˚☐˚”)/ Integrity -2 (Smouldering Desire) ( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── (˚☐˚”)/ Integrity -2.2 (Overcapacity Bioenergy)

‘Aha, licenced by the System.’ ‘I swear this torturous acumen of uselessness–’ Pansy finished not before the oversized bushes he’d initially referred to branched off, most twigs torn by excess force.

An old, pale man poked his scalded head full of unappetizing blisters through the gap in search of something–––or someone. He must've found the origin of his vengeful ire.

As the elder awkwardly double-checked that what sat bored on a stone in front was exactly the herald of misfortune responsible for his downfall, he first froze dumbly, then his facial muscles twisted so much his mummy face looked like something akin to dirty winter socks plastered over a lightbulb.

“That’s the bastard!” A youthful man behind him shouted with vengeance, the very same Linlin recognised as his ex-pack-mule: Jurdá. ‘Even near death is he condemned to bear the full brunt of his foolishness… how pitiful.’

‘As if! They–’ ‘joking, Stupid, merely joking…’ Both soon discovered that the wrathful sentence had some magical properties to it since the tired riffraff that came crawling out of the bushes behind them showed murderous momentum. As if their asses were on fire, the bunch swung their weapons menacingly.

Once, twice, pause... once, twice, pause... They truly looked miserable. Maybe not even their mothers would recognise them any longer, but at least they lived.

“Look, so many happy faces.” Pansy clicked his tongue wickedly as he left the comfortable spot in the midday sun, conveniently lifting up a broken rusty hammer handle from the ground in one fluid motion.

“Say, good neighbour, where’s the rest? I certainly haven’t planned to postpone the party, but is good ole me expected to… wait? Again?” Pansy did his worst in controlling that apathetic face of theirs to show a semblance of a happy smirk.

The result was... offputting, to say the least. “Oh, I know. It's for gifts, a big surprise~!” Our brazen hero expressed an overload of sickening friendliness that couldn’t be faker as he gazed past the sorry group into the thicket behind, his sparkling, black eyes shining brightly as he mocked them.

When the maddening, genuine display of shamelessness, coupled with scathing words and a truckload of schadenfreude, came to First Elder’s notice, old and new hatred called for a chain reaction, blowing his fury out of safe proportions.

“You!” He shrieked regardless of the pain it brought him, his burnt face twisting into a hellish grimace–––if it wasn’t one already. Linlin nodded with passionate, fake warmth to his eyes, his smile ever so nauseating the group couldn’t wait to shove a dirty shoe down that grinning trap no matter the costs.

“Yes. It's me, old friend.” They surprisingly followed the Master Strategist's script like skilled actors of which he was grateful. Eyes narrowed to blazing slits, many mouths could do little but brabble nonsense as anger levels rose and veins popped up one after the other.

The overly false display of wicked machinations was not only part of gentlemanly interest to pay upfront, it also served to set the mood right and to infuriate the narrow-minded group of squeaking ugly ducklings beyond what their pitiful brains could process.

There was nothing majestic about the great First Elder anymore. Nothing resembled the man who almost killed Linlin the moment they'd first met. His desperate struggle for air and an outstretched index finger swaying around like a drunk fly was somewhat cute in our hero's eyes.

First Elder pointed madly at the mastermind who had thwarted all plans until his complexion grew only more grotesque. Dirt, blood and blisters had blended into an exotic grimace that couldn’t exactly be considered healthy or human-like.

One half of his perfectly maintained haircut had lost much splendour to the explosion–––going as far as sweetly smelling medium done–––the other side looked like that of a lucky man surviving a furious grater by the skin of his teeth. Literally.

Linlin found it simply unbelievable that a human could still race through the woods when lacking an arm, a leg, and with serious third-degree burns all over the body.

It appeared he could still douse others in his spittle too! ‘If that ain’t considered a cockroach, I dunno what is.’ 'Tenacious bastard. Heh, I'll pass on that burnt rock.' 'Hope so.'

Pansy cautiously marked the amalgamation of burns as highly dangerous, all the while pondering over the legitimate question of what to think about the strange, seemingly brain-damaged, otherworldly race known as cultivators.

“For an invitee, your greetings demand serious attention on your part. Be it as it may, I’m afraid, educational effort is ultimately wasted since you’re old and all. Your poor heart, tsk, tsk.”

The malicious alter ego couldn’t help but sneakily add oil to the bushfire, making it come roaring and smoking like a volcano before immediate eruption.

Much to Pansy's surprise, his obvious taunts bordering on the amateurish didn’t require the follow-up of a well-prepared speech he had in mind as they played their part effortlessly.

The irascibility of being fooled by a so-called insect not worth a mention overpowered any brittle rationale surviving earlier madness.

The teased old man immediately suffered from a coughing fit, his serious injuries suppressed by sheer willpower erupted one after another and he spat dark blood mixed with a pulp of what should’ve once been part of his organs.

It would’ve undoubtedly turned out worse, was he in the know that a certain overprotective Queenant stood on guard, just in case–––regardless of how meagre that possibility was.

‘Don’t tease the dying.’ ‘Why not? The arrogant clown may explode on his own and it won’t concern us in any way. We must also beat the clock.

But, my feelings...well. Lemme vent a bit more, okay? He almost destroyed my meticulous scheme. The gall, hehe~’ ‘Suit yourself. Just... be swift.’ “No, no, no! That’s not how it works.

I didn’t meditate for days and sit patiently on the hot rock just for you to abdicate the moment you see me. C’mon, deep breaths. Laugh a bit. Smile! A positive mindset helps doing wonders.”

Pansy's cruel and cunning facette aside, the Master Strategist had a different reason for torturing the bastard’s spirit in his own harrowing way than the agent. And no, it wasn't just about the elderly's obvious stupidity plan E didn't account for.

The agent couldn’t forgive First Elder for playing cat and mouse with him–––which had almost deprived him of his family jewels–––but Pansy was on another, more sophisticated level altogether to feel aggrieved about just that.

Regardless of his qualifications as a strategizing genius, his intelligence failed him still in identifying an escape route from torturous ramblings about how important functioning manhood was for a healthy life and proper sense of balance.

This was especially bad since it originated from someone born apathetic boosting a very limited vocabulary at that. Which saint under the heavens could stumble upon halfway reasonable thoughts under such adverse circumstances?

And that for hours no less? The anguish! Harrowing! Hateful!! Probably the true reason for the smouldering desire or whatnot considering both felt indignation arising contemporaneously from the very same event. It was a possibly ground-breaking theory in dire need of proper verification... but that could wait for another time.

“Wheee!” Meanwhile, First Elder really didn’t know whether the steadily rising pressure in his chest would blow him to Kingdom Come first, or whether he eventually succumbed to fatal injuries before that.

Therefore, drastic measures were required to get the best out of his limited time. “Idiots, catch! Huff. Huff. My bag, my ring! Huff. One head in exchange for everything,” between taking deep breaths just as caretaker Pansy suggested, he screamed himself hoarse in a frenzy.

In his craze, First Elder applied pressure to various important meridians on his failing body just to suppress his constant blood loss and gain some more precious seconds to assist the despicable demon’s rotten end.

‘Whoa... these people sure lack brains. Fighting in this state is... ridiculous. No plan, no proper orders, nor information, heh.’ ‘Whatever. Lemme grant their death wish.’

Linlin moistened his chapped lips in dark anticipation, discarded the partially consumed cigar in his mouth, his icy gaze turning into a truly emotionless mask in view of the approaching sandbags.

The ragtag bunch of idiots were lucky to survive the explosion, but that was already all he could give them credit for. For once, being barred from entry by other more influential, contribution-hungry assholes had its perks too–––they survived.

But that certainly didn’t mean they were good. In Linlin’s trained eyes, their sudden jumps, roars and ridiculous faints in the far distance were a veritable waste of energy. Any fighter in their shoes should loathe demonstrating such laughable efforts, given their many injuries and almost empty batteries.

This and their morbid display of wildly flailing limbs, improper breathing and countless additional, unnecessary movements reminded him more of clowns dancing than trained soldiers. 'This other world might have really low standards in military warfare.'

'They may run after an increase in their realm all the time, forgetting the importance of fine-tuning.' 'Forget fine-tuning, they don't even know human anatomy. Make them run a marathon and most break their joints if not their necks on their own.' 'This... might be an exaggeration. But yes, they're horrible.'

However, regardless of how little he thought about them, the agent did not join the hustle and bustle prematurely and chose to play it safe. He deliberately avoided predictable blows and cuts with practised movements focusing on minimalising energy loss.

Where necessary, he skilfully stepped out of reach of poorly executed lance thrusts and danced around the few pugilist idiots as he played a bunch of inexperienced martial enthusiasts against each other, adding to their plight with each passing second.

At this point, the occasion to study their strange movements close up was the only reason why Pansy had been allowed to interfere in Linlin’s thoughts process.

It was also the sole excuse Queen Azariah bought into when requesting a one-man show. Usually, mixing the different personalities thoughts into one homogenous whole might risk a tricky situation.

Among others, there existed the possibility that our hero’s reaction would come belatedly, but the enemies surely didn't look the part to warrant such ungrounded fear.

Efficiency was a fine goal to pursue, but it couldn't be the only concept a fight revolved around. However, one mustn't commit the error of exaggerating safety mechanisms either.

The agent could've gone for the kill numerous times already as he danced all over the place, but he preferred to analyse this world's strange and ridiculously wasteful fighting techniques.

In terms of energy circulation, they could teach them a thing or two. In terms of power, there was much to see. In terms of practicality, they really sucked. In terms of experience, they were simply insignificant.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have put himself in danger much longer and called off his probing. ‘This... are they here to dust a room or get us caught?’ ‘Beginners they may be, but...’

‘Yeah, yeah. That cold aura swirling around their arms of choice... but it’s not uniform and there are no two the same.

Still… one careless mistake and that’s it.’ ‘…useless for small fry trained this way. No adversary in his right mind waits patiently for the blow to connect. But...’ Linlin cast a meaningful glance at the disabled elder. That one, for sure, was another story.

As if to underline the mob's incompetency, both had enough time to not only analyse the enemy in detail as was their goal but also engage in relaxed conversation. Time only made it obvious how big of a difference in terms of sophistication, micro-control and experience there was.

The same impression got also the panting elder, for he wasn’t totally blind. First Elder even forgot about his injuries at some point as he marvelled at the most miraculous light-footedness he’d ever seen. Was that man the Devil?

His cultivation was practically non-existent, yet no hit connected. All efforts ended up useless. Even with strategies and movements he found little to criticise about, the final outcome did not change one bit.

As if that was not ridiculous enough, his keen eyes ascertained with utmost certainty that the dancing monkey suffered from hidden ailments.

Sometimes Linlin's muscles twitched more than they should, interfering with his follow-up movements. At others, his breathing became erratic for a while.

At one point, his right leg did not react at all and his hands sunk down powerlessly. Yet nobody could make use of that opportunity. That was because he still had a head to dish out headbutts if necessary, another leg to kick and an arm to force his falling body back up.

‘What a freaking monster!!’ As he was distracted, the old man’s condition naturally deteriorated faster than expected. The same was also true for Linlin and the brawl.

The fight over there too ended faster than predicted because our hero finally experienced the true handicap reduced integrity levels shackled his body with.

( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── (˚☐˚”)/ Integrity 2.7 (Overcapacity Low-Level) ( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── (˚☐˚”)/ Integrity -2 (Smouldering Desire) ( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── (˚☐˚”)/ Integrity -2.2 (Overcapacity Bioenergy)

For some dastardly reason, the intervals shortened continuously, robbing both of them of any desire to drag out the confrontation. With newfound urgency in mind, playtime was over.

Each opening welcomed a speedy blow to unsuspecting ears, each wrong step, a precise kick, each erroneous stance, a strong backhand punch coupled with a perfectly timed finisher.

Linlin was soon the only man on his feet. Surrounded by groaning servants rubbing broken limbs, brawling out their eyes, showing pain-distorted faces–––some rolling around in the dirt or even passed out softies–––there was only one reaction he had: Linlin shook his head in displeasure.

The living dummies’ quality… If Pansy had known this beforehand, then... the plan would’ve been the same still. The problem had always been the old guy, and the rest of his perished kin our hero never met but was sure they existed.

First Elder groaned in fury, sent caution to the wind and suddenly crackled in energy so much arcs of electricity jumped from his eyes to every part of his body. Like an animal on the verge of death, he staked it all to perish together.

Linlin, of course, had something against that silly notion. As things stood, he at least partially got what he desired, so there was only one thing he'd to do. “Azariah, I’m done,” he said plainly. It was not until such words left his mouth that the ground below their feet literally exploded.

Ants in all shapes and sizes had hidden themselves in the many cracks underground, ready to intervene if so commanded. First Elder jumped up in fright as anybody in his shoes would do, looked around with disbelieving eyes and… fell backwards on his butt, the arcs of electricity discharged down into the ground as if spooked out of his body.

His gaze swiftly clouded over and he suddenly started laughing. It was a desolate cackle as forlorn as despairing. The ridicule of today's situation tainted his weakening voice heavily.

“My mistake, cough, was not to, cough, to kill you immediately. All lamias and orcs together, huff, cough, can’t amount to one weak bastard.”

His conclusion was similar to the late Elder Shadow. Thick blood trickled down the corners of his mouth as he coughed his last. “I regret, I really do!” ‘Well, we do not. So long...’

As expected, the State made short work out of everything still moving and immediately proceeded to happily stockpile those who did not.

Linlin’s eyebrow twitched slightly at this sight, his apathetic face questioningly inclined towards Azariah who misunderstood him completely.

“Take it easy, partner. We’ve many things to do.” Queen Azariah gave him a cheeky smile as she urged her children to move out and comb the woods, busying themselves and not stand in one spot like turtles in a jar.

Linlin didn’t quite catch the meaning behind her words but remembering who she was, he mistook that strangeness for normalcy and nodded anyway.

A sudden wave of pain and a shaking field of vision immediately reminded him of his own suboptimal–––not to say pessimistic–––condition, which forced Linlin to sit down in a meditative stance on the blood-soaked floor.

Azariah had taken note of his pale face before, but it was only now it dawned on her that dangerous times might not be over yet. Worried, the queen approached him and placed a velvety, cold hand on his burning forehead.

But that was not all. Before our dumbfounded hero knew it, he found himself invaded by thick energy he couldn’t use at all and between two small, soft hills, which turned out to be a very pleasant place to stay in his current, weakened condition.

Overwhelmed by the sudden change, he opened his mouth as if to speak, only to pause in an obvious effort to better understand the current situation he found himself in. He ultimately came up with nothing…

‘W-what, Pansy?’ ‘Don’t ask me, this ain’t maths. Nor anything closely logical. Maybe she decided it’s time for us to disappear? Getting crushed to death seems painful, though.’

‘Isn’t this a legendary lap hug? I don’t remember ever seeing anyone die in it. You sure?’ ‘Pei! What do you know? Trust me or trust men’s fantasies, decide. Good performance aside, objectively speaking, do we have any use left?

The creature is now free and her State scarily united and disastrously dangerous. Or do you perhaps entertain the funny thought we may do a better job than a fearsome army of loyal kamikaze soldiers?’

Azariah felt the man in her arms suddenly freeze, his muscles tense. After pondering shortly, she attributed that to a combination of simple surprise and tiredness and did not dig any further.

‘We know too much, Stupid. Too many people died–––goodness, what am I saying–––it’s a whole expedition and two villages that are buried three feet under. Even she, in all her glory, cannot sweep that under the carpet.

Someone will take a closer look, dig around, ask for a scapegoat at least. Honestly, even the non-human survivors are our enemies now, for they surely ain’t that dumb to fail in connecting the obvious.

We know far too much about either side and are clearly responsible for this mess. Use and discard, you know? No matter whether we stay or go, a scary lack of information makes us leave tracks in this unknown, perilous forest.’ ‘She decides our fate, then. Uhh... why did you bother analysing stuff anyway if we're bound to die?’

'Do something fun before dying, never heard of the saying?' 'Does it even exist, this saying...?' 'M-maybe. Who knows? Not that it matters, tho.' 'You're right about one thing. It's been fun exercising.'

Linlin’s breathing became even more erratic, and a second injection of what felt like hot embers cruising through capillaries shot up his now ruptured, blue and purple dazzling blood vessels as a mechanically jarring voice struck like a blunt hammer, emptying his head momentarily.

( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── (˚☐˚”)/ Integrity 2.7 (Overcapacity Low-Level) (˚°>°˚)/ Integrity +1 (Smouldering Desire Fulfilled, 5) (˚°<°˚)/ (˚☐˚”)/ Caution, Critical Levels Reached! (˚☐˚”)/ ( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── (˚☐˚”)/ Integrity -2.2 (Overcapacity Bioenergy) (˚☐˚”)/ Caution, Critical Levels Reached! (˚☐˚”)/

Without knowing it, his soft panting turned into painful moans as bloody cracks appeared all over his body. Through them flowed so much liquid energy, there was nothing Linlin could do to soothe the raging tides.

He recognised that he wasn’t far from the absolute limit but there were still things he had to sort out first. ‘She assured–’ ‘What binds her to that? Nothing! Her gain?

Remarkably insignificant. How naïve are you, a hug means death! Period.’ Linlin worked himself out of the puzzled queen’s embrace with probably too much force, his eyes searching for cute Azariah’s puffy face, where they lost themselves in amber jewels containing a world of clashing feelings.

“When?” His emotionless question sounded rougher than ever. “...what?” “You getting rid of me. Now or later?” The Queenant widened her confused eyes to the absolute limit as she tried to process what had just transpired. How did Linlin even come to that wrongful conclusion?

“I am useless now, the deed’s done...” Linlin’s apathetic demeanour was devoid of any emotion she could take as a hint, so was his mind.

Nothing made her feel that this was but a miserable joke. The living man-bomb Azariah's instincts wanted her to rip apart or diffuse, spoke as if the subject didn’t concern him in any way.

“But...? Why– I. No. This?” Azariah stuttered, her mind suffering from a multitude of unnecessary reproaches not necessarily pertaining to the realm of truth.

What Linlin intended as a simple question sparked a mix of complicated feelings Azariah felt she'd explode from. It hurt all the more because it attached seamlessly to her age-old, buried insecurities.

Moreover, the desperate queen couldn’t deduce from her previous behaviour anything that’d remotely suggest she wasn’t that cold-blooded, calculating creature our hero made her out to be. Quite the contrary, him thinking such after all what happened seemed logical, if anything.

Regret filled her heart, remorse dug deep, panic pulled at facial muscles, the nose ran and twitched and her lips refused any desperate order...

In all honesty, her current appearance gave a clear sign but unfortunately, her partner being in possession of negative EQ meant no emotional salvation would ever come from his hands if she didn’t demand so plainly.

Linlin’s innocent, abyssal black eyes did not let go of hers. Like a drill, the intensity of his stare crushed layer after layer of her protection, as he waited calmly for an answer. “No, never.”

The man nodded at her forced croak, a hint of relief flashing through his eyes. “Must talk, really.” “No” “No? But why? I have so much to tell you, I–”

“No, not now.” Linlin interrupted her pleading flatly as he finally had all the time in the world to handle the ticking time bomb. Now with external danger out of the picture for good, all he had to overcome was an internal problem.

As the penitent queen was left alone to brood over his words and contemplate future actions, he returned to lie in her comfortably cool arms.

Eventually, Azariah stopped staring holes at the man like a frightened fawn and got a hold of herself. Slowly, the thought of his spectacular performance deepened both remorse and respect alike, which made it only more pressing that he got all the peace and credit he deserved.

One thought later and her whole entourage of restlessly wandering, obedient labourers were put in a state of extreme vigilance. Only after checking the seamless surveillance for herself did Azariah tear her head from Linlin’s face and stare murderously at a corner of the ravaged village.

“Show yourself,” she hissed ominously, “and don’t dare close in!” That'd be the most foolish thing to do right now, but the endless depth of a sentient mind made sure not everyone knew what was best for them.

End of Part IV