Chapter Sixteen: Just the Right Amount of Brute Force

Whoosh!

As Qi Chen stepped into the domain of the uncanny, a rope forged from eerie power pierced through the earth, lunging straight for his throat.

Having encountered this attack before, he was well prepared. A cold wind surged from behind, and the Overlord, whose physique was formidable beyond measure, opened his eyes wide in fury. The black-and-white mask he wore radiated an immense, sinister aura as his massive hand shot forward, gripping the spectral rope with a mighty grasp.

The gray-white, illusory cord was caught in his palm—a tactic the Gentle Man had never employed in such circumstances.

“Mere parlor tricks!” With the Overlord’s arrival, Qi Chen’s temperament shifted dramatically. His usual restraint vanished, replaced by a brazen sneer and a mocking retort.

Not only that, but his thoughts flowed to the Overlord, who swiftly wound the rope around his forearm in tight coils.

“Ha!”

Qi Chen and the Overlord shouted in unison, the latter clutching the rope tightly, muscles bulging as he pulled fiercely backward.

What happened next was astonishing. The ground above the Tiger-Head Guillotine, buried there by the Gentle Man, cracked open as though something within yearned to burst free. Yet this was not the guillotine’s own doing—it was the sheer force of the Overlord at work.

“Don’t pull it out!” The Gentle Man shouted desperately at Qi Chen. The guillotine itself was less concerning; he feared the Overlord might rip it free, triggering a shift in the uncanny domain and drawing more souls into its despairing execution.

But Qi Chen, still under the Overlord’s influence, was ablaze with wild, restless energy. At the Gentle Man’s cry, he merely furrowed his brow, preparing to exert even more strength.

Suddenly, the eerie rope in the Overlord’s grasp mutated. Its end grew swiftly, snaking around the Overlord’s body and fastening itself to Qi Chen’s neck.

“Damn!” The Gentle Man’s heart tightened. He’d experienced this before and knew what was coming: an irresistible, compulsory drag. Based on his observations, the distance one was dragged seemed tied to their sense of guilt.

The speed of the subsequent pull likely correlated with the darkness in one’s heart—an abstract concept, yet unmistakably a hallmark of the uncanny.

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“Hm?” The Gentle Man, watching Qi Chen intently, was suddenly filled with doubt about his own theory.

Qi Chen, now ensnared by the rope, remained perfectly still, his feet unmoving.

Could his deductions have been fundamentally flawed?

Lost in thought, the Gentle Man was startled as Qi Chen, influenced by the Overlord, did something even more unexpected.

“Can’t you pull a little harder?” Qi Chen, his face twisted in a wild grin, taunted. He did what he’d never dared before. The Overlord, floating before him, tugged gently at the rope, his demeanor thick with provocation.

This seemed to explain why Qi Chen wasn’t being dragged—the rope's trailing end was tightly clutched in the Overlord’s hand.

The Overlord’s strength surpassed the guillotine’s pulling power.

As the Overlord’s master, Qi Chen quickly realized this, his eyes alight with exhilaration. He strode forward confidently, the Overlord still gripping the rope to preempt any sudden mishaps.

“Senior, need a hand?” Reaching the Gentle Man’s side with ease, Qi Chen smiled amiably, extending a hand to the man sprawled on the ground.

The Overlord, responding to Qi Chen’s thoughts, slid a finger into the gap of the rope around the Gentle Man’s neck and hooked it securely, freeing him at last.

“You… Is your power truly so great?”

Compared to Qi Chen, an untrained newcomer, the Gentle Man possessed a wealth of uncanny experience. Among uncanny practitioners, the standard metrics were strength, mental intensity, and projection range—the three basic elements.

Yet what distinguished an uncanny practitioner most was their unique abilities. Beyond the basics, the development and use of special abilities determined their upper limits.

The three elements defined the lower bounds of an uncanny’s power.

For the Gentle Man, his uncanny “Enthusiasm” was average in strength, classified as C-rank by the Alliance’s system—roughly equivalent to the combined strength of five adult men.

In the recent encounter, “Enthusiasm” was laughably weak against the guillotine’s uncanny force. Conservatively, the Gentle Man estimated the Overlord’s strength had reached at least A-rank!

He calmed himself quickly. Years of dealing with the uncanny brought his focus back to the present, and he hurried to share his theory about the guillotine’s mechanism with Qi Chen.

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“Try it—see if your uncanny can force the guillotine blade down!”

“If its strike fails to hit, perhaps that breaks its logic. With your strength, you can certainly do it!”

Now somewhat calmer, Qi Chen took the advice. He glanced at the Overlord, who met his gaze without hesitation. The massive figure strode toward the buried guillotine, thunder rumbling in his chest.

Bang! Bang!

Physical matter seldom affects the uncanny, but the uncanny can influence reality at will.

The Overlord launched a flurry of blows with his iron fists, his humanoid form unleashing more power than any machine.

In moments, the Tiger-Head Guillotine, previously entombed by the Gentle Man’s ability, was unearthed.

The blade was still entwined with countless spectral ropes, raised high. The blood staining it had dried to a dark red, and faint, frantic screams could be heard, as if it thirsted for fresh blood.

Whoosh!

The Overlord bent low, seized both ends of the guillotine, and, without even a growl, lifted it easily from the earth.

“Close the blade!” Qi Chen sent the command mentally. The Overlord’s mask shifted, his violent gaze settling coldly on the guillotine before he slammed it to the ground.

His gray-white palm pressed upon the blade’s spine, and this time, the Overlord let out a low growl and applied his strength. The guillotine inched downward, though its connection seemed ancient, or it simply resisted.

The blade’s descent was even slower than a snail’s crawl.

Suddenly, the Overlord released his grip and stood tall, then swiftly raised a leg.

Who says you must use your hands?

…