Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 644

Chapter 644: Uncrowned Clown Of The Ten Fingers Of Solitude
The Seer’s sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, her frown deepening as she searched for Chiron.

A moment later, her gaze drifted upward, and she noticed something peculiar—the Heaven Tribulation above was shifting. The dark clouds, heavy with wrathful intent, were moving slowly but deliberately in a direction far ahead.

Her attention snapped back to the ground. There, faint pools of shadow were evaporating, disappearing one by one like ink drying under the sun. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, growing into a mocking laugh. “You can’t run, Chiron,” she declared, her voice echoing across the shattered landscape. “Not from the heavens, and certainly not from me.”

She turned to the remaining gold rankers and demi-gods, her tone commanding. “After him! Follow the wrath of the heavens—it’ll lead us straight to that coward.”

As they moved to pursue, her voice rang out again, dripping with disdain. “Imagine, a demi-god who trembles in fear at the first sight of true opposition. A snake trying to slither away into its hole.”

Meanwhile, within the shadow pool, Chiron could hear every word.

Deep within the dark void of the shadow pools, he gritted his teeth. He felt the relentless pull of the Heaven Tribulation tracking him, like a predator stalking its prey. His body ached, his energy reserve for aura was stretched thin, and yet the Seer’s mocking laughter grated on him more than any physical pain.

“Talk all you want, woman,” Chiron muttered to himself, his dark eyes gleaming. “If I were half as scared as you think, you’d already be dead.”

But his priority now wasn’t to fight—it was to survive. He was running, leaping from one shadow pool to the next, each escape draining him further.

Then, with a deafening crack, the earth above him split open. One of the demi-gods had slammed a colossal hammer onto the ground, sending shockwaves that forced Chiron out of the shadows.

The moment he emerged, Chiron twisted mid-air, his hands flying into action.

**”Fireball Howl of the Fire Blood Dragon!”** he roared.

A torrent of flames burst from his palms, spiraling with draconic ferocity as they surged toward his attackers. The fire roared with a crimson brilliance, fueled by the spiritual energy.

The blast hit its mark, scorching the earth and consuming several gold rankers who weren’t fast enough to escape.

The remaining fighters regrouped, their combined retaliation swift and overwhelming. Ten counterattacks of blinding energy shot toward Chiron, each one carrying enough destructive force to obliterate a mountain.

Chiron didn’t flinch. “Tch, is that all?!” he sneered, his tone dripping with arrogance even as he gritted his teeth against the onslaught.

With a wave of his hand, his blood sword materialized, wrapping around him like a living barrier. The liquid blade hissed and shimmered as it absorbed the brunt of the attacks, splintering the ground beneath his feet but keeping him alive.

Devil’s Touch had appeared on the battlefield.

As the assault paused for the briefest moment, Chiron exploded into motion.

His blade morphed, extending like a serpent as it lashed out with precise, lethal strikes. “You think numbers will save you? Let me teach you what true power feels like!”

His target was clear—the gold rankers, weaker than the demi-gods, fell first. One of them raised a shield in a desperate attempt to block Chiron’s strike, but the blood sword tore through it effortlessly. The blade plunged into the man’s chest, ripping upward to sever his head from his shoulders.

The blood spilled didn’t go to waste. The sword drank deeply, the crimson surging back into Chiron.

With a wicked grin, he redirected the stolen blood, shaping it into razor-sharp projectiles.

“Here, let me return the favor!” Chiron barked, sending the blood bullets flying in all directions.

**Blood Bullets**

They screamed through the air like whistling arrows, piercing through armor, flesh, and even energy barriers. The battlefield descended into chaos as cultivators scrambled to dodge the relentless storm.

One gold ranker cried out as a bullet struck his leg, forcing him to his knees. Chiron was on him in an instant, the blood sword slicing through the man’s torso before he could raise his weapon.

“Pathetic,” Chiron spat, his voice a venomous sneer.

“You’re not even worth the effort.”

The remaining fighters regrouped, their fear mounting as they realized Chiron’s relentless ferocity wasn’t diminishing. His arrogance, his unyielding will, and the sheer savagery of his attacks made him more dangerous than ever.

Chiron stood amidst the carnage, his dark aura radiating like a storm. He licked a bit of blood off his lips, his grin widening. “You wanted me out of the shadows?” he called out, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Congratulations—you’ve got me. Now come and die!”

But then it happened.

A voice suddenly whispered near his ear.

It was soft, almost intimate, yet laced with malice.

“Found you, Chiron… You didn’t think you could outrun all your debts, did you?”

Chiron’s body stiffened, a chill creeping down his spine. Before he could react, the unmistakable sound of a blade slicing through flesh filled the air.

His eyes widened as he looked down to see the edge of a massive, jagged broadsword protruding through his abdomen. Blood poured freely from the gaping wound, pooling at his feet.

For the first time in the battle, Chiron’s composure cracked. His teeth clenched as a snarl escaped him.

With a sharp motion, his liquid sword, dark and writhing like a living entity, surged backward toward his unseen assailant.

The attack was fast—inhumanly so—but it met nothing. The figure behind him leapt high into the air, effortlessly avoiding the retaliatory strike.

As the figure landed some distance away, a laugh echoed through the battlefield.

It wasn’t a laugh of joy or mockery—it was distorted, jagged, like glass breaking over a discordant melody. The figure stepped forward into the flickering light of the remaining flames, and Chiron’s eyes narrowed.

The man was dressed like a clown, a grotesque parody of humor. His face was painted white, with streaks of smeared red across his cheeks resembling a grin too wide for any human mouth.

His tattered costume was a patchwork of bright, chaotic colors, yet the way he moved exuded a precision that belied the insanity of his appearance.

He carried his enormous broadsword with one hand as if it weighed nothing, the weapon’s jagged edges still slick with Chiron’s blood.

The clown tilted his head, his unblinking eyes fixed on Chiron. When he spoke, his voice was high-pitched yet carried an eerie weight. “Ah, the infamous Chiron Chivalry. I’ve waited for this moment. You’ve caused quite the stir. But here I am, the Uncrowned Clown, to collect your head.”

Chiron’s gaze hardened as recognition dawned. His lips curled into a snarl despite the blood dripping from his mouth. “The Ten Fingers of Solitude,” he spat, venom dripping from each word. “So they’ve finally sent you… The clown. A little late, don’t you think?”

Even though Chiron said this, he was genuinely moved by the appearance of this clown.

Even in the book, this Clown had been a huge problem to the Mc. Ironically, he was a Knight of the Holy church.

For his crimes, he should have been long dead, but he was a very useful kind of messed up.

He did not always abide by their rules, and did as he willed, just like the other fingers of Solitude.

The major problem with this one was the fact that he was always searching for the punchline to a joke through the pain and death of others.

He was a living, breathing ever pungent breath of crazy.

And this mad man had actually snuck behind Chiron without Chiron knowing.

The Clown let out another jagged laugh, spinning his sword casually as if to taunt Chiron. “Late? Oh no, dear Chiron. I’m right on time. The chaos you’ve caused—the death, the rebellion—it’s all been so… delicious… and in truth, I REALLY REALLY REALLY want more.” He suddenly sighed, “But the Seer is angry. As you know… all good shows must come to an end.”

Chiron pressed a hand to his wound, blood spilling through his fingers. His body, though battered, refused to give in. His dark eyes burned with determination as his liquid sword coiled protectively around him like a serpent, ready to strike.

“You’re going to regret this,” Chiron growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ve fought monsters far worse than you. What makes you think a painted fool stands a chance?”

Chiron was in truth saying this more to himself than to his foe.

The Clown’s grin stretched even wider, his painted mouth contorting grotesquely. “Why?…hmmm.” he licked the blood on the broad sword.

“…because I’m not like the rest. I don’t fight for honor, or glory, or even revenge. I fight for… the chaos. And you, my dear Chiron, might even become my greatest masterpiece… Now Stand still, i am not done carving your flesh.”

(Author’s note: Hmmm, more mad men I would seem.)