Bloodstar System: Infinite Evolution Through Beast Slaughter

Chapter 20: Psionic Master!

Joren stood on a cracked slab of concrete and swept his gaze over the surroundings.

Tavian glanced at Joren, then clenched his teeth. Greed flickered in his eye.

"We skim the edge. No going deep. Move."

Joren still walked on the flank.

Behind him, that gaze grew hotter. Madder.

Evric walked at the very back.

Several times just now, after Joren killed those Voidbeasts, he had not looked back. Even so, Evric could feel it. That cold killing intent had brushed over him, faint, but never gone.

He cannot go back alive.

Evric’s eyes were webbed with blood.

The team moved through broken walls and rubble. Crushed stones cracked beneath their boots.

Joren walked on the flank, his mind already sinking into the system panel.

[Host: Joren]

[Mental Force: 72]

[Combat Rank: Mortal 20/20]

[Bloodstars: 60]

[Combat Arts: Basic Bladecraft 5/5 Complete; Basic Body Tempering 8/8 Complete]

[Talent: Bladeborn Frame Green]

System, add points.

Joren focused on the Mental Force column.

The Bloodstars began dropping fast, pouring away like water.

73...

78...

85...

As the number climbed, a faint sting pulsed deep in Joren’s mind.

It vanished almost at once.

In its place came a cool, indescribable clarity.

The instant the number reached 100, the Mental Force that had once spread through his mind like mist began to contract and condense.

From vapor into liquid.

An invisible ripple spread outward from Joren in a flash.

[Mental Force: 100 Rank One Psionic Master]

Before, his perception had been like radar, able to catch only vague red dots.

Now it was as if he had a full circle of high definition cameras.

He closed his eyes.

Everything within a hundred meters appeared with perfect clarity.

He could see the tiny pebble stuck in the sole of Tavian’s combat boot.

He could see cold sweat seeping from the pores on Arlen’s back.

He could even see a mutated rat a hundred meters away, gnawing on a rotten cable.

Even the trembling of its whiskers was clear.

Psionic Master?

He had read about Psionic Masters in books.

They were rarer and more terrifying than Awakened Warriors.

Unbeatable among peers.

Killing above their rank as easily as slaughtering dogs.

Because they did not need to move their hands.

A single thought could kill without leaving a trace.

Joren lowered his head and looked beside his foot.

There was a rusty nut there, about the size of a thumb.

With one thought, without any movement or sound, the nut wobbled and floated up.

He tried increasing the output of his Mental Force.

Whoosh!

The nut instantly turned into a blur, circling once beside Joren.

It was so fast that it drew a faint hiss from the air.

Arlen’s ears twitched. He turned back in confusion.

"What was that sound?"

He scratched his head, found nothing wrong, then cursed under his breath and turned back to continue clearing the path.

In that instant, if Joren had wanted to, the nut could have easily pierced through the back of Arlen’s skull.

The team continued forward.

Joren did not stay idle.

Like a child who had just received a new toy, he quietly enjoyed himself during the dull march.

Of course, all of it happened in secret.

He practiced controlling objects.

At first it was one nut.

Then two pebbles.

Then a chunk of concrete the size of a palm.

Joren discovered that the lighter the object, the faster it moved and the less Mental Force it consumed.

With his current limit, he could make an object around one hundred kilograms hover.

But for combat, if he wanted speed and killing power, light and sharp weapons like throwing knives would be best.

Too bad I only have this boning knife.

The boning knife was sharp, but as a psionic weapon, it was still a little too heavy. Its shape was poor too, with too much air resistance.

After he went back, he would need to get a proper set of throwing knives.

Joren suddenly glanced at Evric at the back of the team.

Evric was staring darkly at his back.

Then, all at once, Evric felt a chill behind his neck.

As if an ice cold finger had lightly brushed across his artery.

Evric whipped around.

There was nothing behind him.

Only the wind passing through broken windows, making a low, hollow whine.

"What are you doing?"

Tavian growled impatiently.

"N no... something touched me just now."

Evric’s face had gone pale, his forehead slick with cold sweat.

That feeling had been too real.

So real that he felt death breathing behind him.

He looked around uneasily, always feeling as if a pair of eyes was watching him from the dark.

Trash.

Joren walked ahead without any expression and gave the verdict in his mind.

A simple flesh and blood Mortal like this was nothing but a live target before a Psionic Master.

Killing someone like Evric did not require drawing a blade.

It did not even require turning around.

One thought was enough.

"We are here."

At the center of the abandoned commercial plaza, there had once been a fountain.

Now, a massive black shape lay there.

A thick stench filled the air, the smell of reptile musk mixed with rotting meat left to ferment.

"That is the Ironclad Lizard."

Tavian lowered his voice. Greed burned in his eye.

"Look at its size. The armor plates on its back have gone fully black. Good stuff. That hide alone can sell for four or five hundred thousand."

Four or five hundred thousand.

For hunters who lived with their heads tied to their belts in the wilderness, that was enough money to drive people mad.

Arlen swallowed, his hand slick with sweat around the iron club.

Evric stayed behind them, eyes shifting, no one knew what he was thinking.

Joren stood in the shadows.

His Mental Force spread out like a tide.

In his perception, the giant beast that seemed to be asleep had Vital Force surging wildly inside it, like a volcano about to erupt.

And.

Its aura was far stronger than the late stage Rank One recorded in the information.

"Get ready."