At the very instant their eyes met, Lan'urus suddenly bent low and rolled forward. Thwack! A Tarot card depicting an angel with a horn struck the wall like a flying dagger, its height precisely aligning with the spot where Lan'urus's neck had been moments before. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! With swift, agile movements—rolling, sidestepping, or lunging—Lan'urus skillfully evaded three consecutive cards that crashed against the wall, the stone floor, and the concrete, producing a resonant metallic clatter. Meanwhile, with a peripheral glance, he observed the man in the clown mask moving with nearly equal speed, closely following him, one hand firmly holding a thick stack of cards and the other deftly distributing them. As the sun, now endowed with facial features, came into view on the card's surface, Lan'urus braced his left hand against the wall and launched himself into the air, executing a wide, sweeping maneuver. At that moment, he heard a sharp whoosh—and suddenly, intense pain shot through his ankle! Had two cards been dealt? A card slightly delayed, yet perfectly aligned with the direction I'd dodged—could he anticipate my movements? Lan'urus felt a sudden jolt, immediately rolling again despite the pain upon landing. Thud! Another card inserted itself at his original position, trembling now, as if alive. Only then did Lan'urus notice a deep embedding of a card at the ankle on his right side—the images of stars, the Water-Bottle, and holy water now stained with fresh red. Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Lan'urus had no time to process or attend to his injuries; one card after another transformed into sharp darts, piercing him at various points across his body. Soon, wounds appeared on his right foot and chest, and the hollow space in his torso—once struck by a collision of at least half-divine strength—began to take effect. With the sequence 9 being "The Thief," renowned for speed and agility, Lan'urus now felt himself growing sluggish. Thwip! A card was sent flying from his hands, but deep wounds slashed across his wrist, oozing steadily with blood. The night watchmen and military personnel would arrive soon—there was no more time to delay! At this very moment, Larnuus's mind was exceptionally clear. Suddenly, he stopped moving, no longer evading, allowing a card depicting a "Demon" to strike his neck precisely. Almost instantly, the cards embedded in his body were launched outward. The wounds on his neck, right chest, wrists, and ankles surged with blood, forming one after another grotesque flesh buds! A dense network of small bumps erupted across Larnuus's skin, glowing with an iron hue, as if forming a complete armor. Thud—the card shot toward him, deflected directly by the dense network of bumps. Lan'urus, his eyes tinged with blood red, watched the clown on the opposite side pause, folding his cards with a half-smile, half-sarcastic tone: "No matter what, after all this turmoil from the gods, one always comes away with something." Before he finished speaking, he kicked off with his left foot, leaping over the foul, flowing river and charging toward his opponent. He seemed to have forgotten to maintain his balance, staggering with each step and suddenly collapsing sideways before rolling into a new position with support from his left elbow. Thwip! Thwip! Thud! Thud! Lan'urus launched rapid, powerful blows and kicks, several times nearly hitting Caine, who consistently managed to evade them through extraordinary, almost illogical maneuvers of balance—sometimes against the wall, sometimes on the ground, as if performing a feat of acrobatics. He remained remarkably composed and calm, not at all hurried, as though determined to prolong the fight and wait for the night-watchmen and military personnel to arrive. Yet whenever Lan'urus showed signs of fleeing, he immediately tightened his grip, refusing to let go. Thwip! Lan'urus drove Caine into a rebounding leap off the wall with a single punch, then turned without hesitation and fled down a different corridor. Caine planted his foot, his body poised to launch like a projectile, aiming straight for Lan'urus's back. At that instant, a vivid image surged into his mind: "Lan'urus seemed boneless, forcibly twisting his upper body to deliver a punch straight into his chest." This was the intuitive instinct of the 'Clown!' Without hesitation or doubt, Cline deliberately reduced the force of his subsequent attack. With a soft *thud*, he still launched himself forward, but with noticeably less power than expected. *Crack!* The sound of grinding teeth filled the air as Lan'urus's legs remained still, yet his upper body suddenly snapped back, his face now facing directly behind, his toes pointing forward. In this startling pose, Lan'urus drove a powerful punch forward, aimed squarely at Cline's head, so forceful that the very air seemed to explode. *Boom!* The punch struck empty air, still twenty to thirty centimeters away from Cline's face. The gust of wind swirling around lifted Caine's hair, yet he did not seize the moment to attack. Instead, he uttered a single ancient Hermes word in a low, raspy tone: "Crimson!" He wanted both of them... to be affected simultaneously... so that the subsequent... night watchmen and military personnel... could arrive. Lanerus's eyelids grew heavy, his previously suppressed fatigue and weakness now raging wildly against his will. He strained to stay awake, relying on the unique strength of his current physical state to endure the most intense phase of the sleep-inducing effect. Cline, however, offered no resistance and swiftly entered a deep sleep. Yet, when he slept unnaturally, he instinctively remained conscious! This was his special ability against "spirit communication" and "dream entry"—the very reason he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of Lady Xuelin. During the battle, after the paper darts failed, he immediately summoned the "Sleeping Incantation," clenching it tightly in his palm, waiting for the moment to use it—waiting for the chance to affect both himself and his opponent. In that single instant, the normally composed figure in the dream broke free, his eyes clearly reflecting the wavering form of Lanerus. Whoa! Caine suddenly became incredibly calm, as if facing merely a target. He took a deep breath, twisted his waist and shoulders, and drove his fist forward with all his might! Thud! Crackle! His fist struck hard against Lan'urus's throat, shattering bones and splattering flesh. Lan'urus staggered back two steps, pressing against the wall. The intense pain finally broke through the lingering trance, yet the fine, iron-like bumps on his body vanished completely. As soon as Caine's fist connected, his left hand reached into his pocket and withdrew two cards. Swoosh! Swoosh! Each Tarot card was inserted into one of Lan'urus's eyes, and blood immediately began to flow down. Lan'urus竟 endured this pain without emitting a piercing cry. He suddenly lunged forward, making the most vigorous struggle! Klein did not seize the opportunity to attack; instead, he smoothly stepped aside, retreating one step as anticipated. Then, seizing the moment when Larnuus charged into the open space, he took two swift steps to reach the enemy's back, placing his hands firmly around the man's neck. Crack! With a powerful twist of his arms, Klein spun around, snapping Larnuus's neck instantly. Afterward, he stepped back two paces, gazing at the now lifeless Larnuus, whose eyes, still fixed on the paper cards, were now weakly gazing forward. As he watched, Larnuus murmured, in growing confusion: "Why...?" "Why...kill...me..." Klein, wearing the clown mask, looked steadily at his adversary, responding with calm detachment: "For no reason." "No..." Larnuus's eyes widened in disbelief, and as he collapsed to the floor of the sewer, his breath finally ceased. At that moment, seemingly calm, Caine suddenly stepped forward, tightened his right leg, and launched a powerful kick straight into Lan'urus's head. Thud! The already bloodied and shattered neck could no longer bear the force, and Lan'urus's head flew like a ball, crashing heavily against the wall, leaving a streak of red and white. Caine watched the scene, then suddenly bent double. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" He laughed wildly, his face, the mask of a clown, radiant with joy. The upward-curving corners of his mouth, the bright red tip of his nose, and the pale complexion—all glowing with pure happiness. "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Caine laughed so hard he could hardly breathe, his laughter so unsteady and awkward it sounded worse than weeping. After a few seconds, he finally calmed down, slowly straightening himself, and squeezed his left eye toward the darkest part of the tunnel. Then, he lifted the corner of his mouth, murmuring silently, "Captain... Look, we've saved Ruin once again..." One drop after another gently slipped down, landing on the collar of his shirt. At that moment, he felt his 'clown' potion had been fully absorbed.