Crimson Blood Manipulation · Extre Technique · Blood Deception!
The mont Shinji activated this technique, the bald, four-eyed cursed spirit's body froze in place.
Its expression twisted into sothing deeply unnatural—painful, bewildered, and grotesque.
If one looked closely, they would discover the truth.
The blood that had once circulated at high speed inside the blades had already—under Shinji's precise control—silently slipped into the cursed spirit's body through its wounds, lying in wait.
Now, with the activation of Crimson Blood Manipulation · Extre Technique · Blood Deception, that blood was instantly awakened.
It began releasing a unique energy fluctuation—one that carried extre aggressiveness!
This energy had no direct lethality.
No destructive force.
Yet it possessed perfect camouflage, completely deceiving every internal immunity and defensive chanism within the cursed spirit's body.
What followed was a brutal, one-sided slaughter.
The blood Shinji had left inside the cursed spirit began to destroy its red blood cells.
In re monts, an extrely severe hemolytic reaction erupted throughout the cursed spirit's body.
Before Shinji ever transmigrated, anyone with basic common sense knew this:
Blood transfusions must match blood types—otherwise, hemolytic reactions could occur.
(Special cases excluded, like type O—no need to argue.)
Hemolysis, in simple terms, refers to the destruction of red blood cell mbranes—either through rupture, perforation, or extre stretching that causes hemoglobin to leak out.
(Definition sourced from Google—don't nitpick.)
In severe cases, this can lead to shock, acute renal failure, and a cascade of terrifying symptoms.
Even if so of those effects didn't apply to cursed spirits—these abnormal beings—It was still equivalent to stacking more than ten debuffs onto its body!
And worse—
The internal destruction was ongoing.
The bald, four-eyed cursed spirit suddenly staggered, collapsing to its knees. One hand slamd into the ground for support as it opened its mouth and violently coughed up horrifying purple blood.
Even more terrifying—The blood had already darkened and clotted into chunks.
The cursed spirit tried to heal itself with cursed energy.
And yes—it worked.
But imdiately after, its body suffered even greater internal damage.
Unless it could expel the terrifying blood originating from Shinji. No matter how many tis it healed, the result would always be the sa.
However…
Its body had been deceived.
Completely.
It couldn't even perceive the true source of the problem.
Not knowing that the issue lay within its own blood, it naturally couldn't address it at the root.
A perfect dead loop.
Crack…
As the cursed spirit struggled, Shinji had already lifted the Executioner Blade once more and walked calmly up to it.
"I could kill you right now," he said flatly.
"But a promise made must be kept."
"So before you're cut into exactly eighteen neat pieces…"
"Don't die."
The bald, four-eyed cursed spirit suddenly erupted into motion.
Even though it still hadn't figured out what was wrong with its body, the root of the problem had to be this human!
As long as it killed him, everything would be solved!
Its logic wasn't wrong—But its current physical condition had deteriorated far too much.
Speed.
Strength.
Both had plumted.
Pfft!
Two spinning palms flew through the air and landed on the ground nearby.
"2!"
After shouting the number, Shinji swung his blade again.
This ti, two feet remained behind.
"4!"
Another slash!
Two thick, pale arms vanished.
"6!"
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Shinji wielded the execution blade like a master butcher carving at, calmly dismantling the cursed spirit piece by piece.
And after every single strike, he spoke a number aloud—without fail.
Silver light flashed. The blade moved like a specter.
Boom!
When the execution blade finally struck the ground again, the now-motionless bald, four-eyed cursed spirit collapsed—
Like a pile of broken building blocks.
"18!"
Shinji carefully counted again as he picked up the pieces with his great sword.
Exactly eighteen pieces.
Blood continued to pour out, forming an extrely long skewer, threading each chunk together like candied hawthorn.
Only after finishing all this did he lift the "at skewer" in one hand and shoulder the execution blade with the other, returning to the upper level.
By now, the upper floor had been mostly destroyed.
Yet Hidan was oddly lucky—the mural he'd been embedded into hadn't been affected.
Seeing Shinji return, clothes torn and body battered, carrying a massive "at skewer"…
For so reason, Hidan actually let out a sigh of relief.
Of course, he would never admit that he'd been worried about this bastard.
It was just that Shinji's victory determined whether he himself could walk out of this place alive—so naturally he cared a little.
After all, compared to that four-eyed freak, Shinji was… maybe just a tiny bit better.
Just a fingertip's worth.
Hidan—absolutely-not-happy—imdiately began shouting:
"Hahahaha! You actually killed that guy! I knew you'd win—ah, spit! I an, if that bastard hadn't sneak-attacked and stolen my weapon, Lord Hidan could've handled him alone! You didn't even need to step in!"
Shinji responded calmly with just two words.
"Idiot."
"Hey! That's the second ti you've called an idiot today! Don't think I didn't hear it! Put down right now, or I'll cut you up, bastard!"
Dismbered into pieces, his head still embedded in the wall, Hidan could only rage uselessly.
Shinji ignored him.
He needed to finish things properly first.
Don't be fooled by how motionless this Special-Grade Cursed Spirit appeared right now.
That was only because Blood Deception was constantly draining its cursed energy.
If Shinji let things drag on, once the blood he left inside lost its activity—
The cursed spirit would imdiately regenerate and return to peak condition.
So if he wanted to completely exorcise it, he had to act now.
While it was sick—
He would take its life.
With the audience already present, Shinji didn't delay.
His previous wounds split open once more, blood surging out.
The repeated blood loss had turned his face deathly pale.
Fortunately, he often practiced bloodletting during downti, storing it for ergencies.
Coupled with the confidence granted by immortality, he didn't particularly care about excessive blood loss.
If he'd known things would escalate this far before setting out, he would've brought more blood packs.
Regret was pointless now—just another lesson learned.
"Crimson Blood Manipulation · Blood Spikes!"
Blood orbs ford one after another, precisely wrapping around each piece on the ground before floating into the air.
In the next instant—
Every blood orb transford into a spiked mace, vicious and terrifying!
Countless sharp spikes pierced the flesh inside, shredding it into a honeycomb.
Then the spiked spheres began collapsing inward, compressing—
Transitioning from liquid to solid.
Until finally—
BOOM!
They exploded into a cloud of fine powder!
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