Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

Having personally experienced and witnessed numerous battles between Extraordinary Beings, Charlotte naturally came to understand that Extraordinary Beings below the High Sequence, through different pathways, each possess unique characteristics and weaknesses. In other words, each has their strengths and weaknesses, and these strengths and weaknesses are so pronounced that they are indeed strong or quite weak.

Just as the arbitrator's words carry the weight of law, it lacks the ability for direct combat. However, even a moment's negligence could lead to the loss of contact under the newly established laws. No matter how strong one's fighting skills and extraordinary abilities, one could still die an inexplicable death. A prime example is Earl Cliff, the 'schemer' from Tingen. Despite being a powerful sixth-rank expert, he was still bound by the laws across ranks in front of everyone on the arbitrator's grounds, losing all ability to resist, and ultimately dying under spittle and stones.

Because most extraordinary pathways below the high sequence have distinct characteristics but obvious weaknesses and are physically fragile, if one can conceal their strengths and find out about the enemy's situation in advance, and make effective arrangements to target their weaknesses, then it is not impossible to win against the strong with the weak. In very extreme cases, it is also very unlikely that a low sequence can kill a mid sequence.

Of course, this example is a perfect assumption and is almost impossible to happen in reality. The fifth-ranked person can already be called a strong person, and their extraordinary abilities are all worthy of being called miracles. Their 'skills' can effectively cover up their 'weaknesses'. It is difficult to extend one's strengths to have an impact on them until the sixth-ranked person.

On the other hand, extraordinary individuals in the middle and lower ranks are very afraid of being besieged. Even if their opponents are all lower than their own ranks, once they lose their calm judgment, they are likely to fall into a state of exhaustion and failure due to information gaps, which can turn their weaknesses into fatal factors.

Of course, the path of the healer's current 'nest' is different from others. The ritual of advancement alone requires it to devour the extraordinary characteristics of a Sequence Seven, and this process is indispensable in the subsequent digestion.

Its uniqueness is enough to combine the extraordinary characteristics of multiple pathways, making their abilities work for its own benefit and making up for the shortcomings in various aspects. If the extraordinary abilities are combined and matched well enough, there will be almost no defects as described in the normal way.

Moreover, once you enter this sequence, the brainstem's restrictions on the human body are lifted, and its powerful self-healing ability can even regenerate severed limbs, recover from battle injuries at an extremely fast speed, and always maintain the best state for fighting enemies.

This is one of the reasons why Charlotte initially chose it as the path to becoming a healer.

The candlelight flickered with the approaching breaths, reflecting pairs of greedy eyes. As the price climbed to 1,500 pounds, the bidding began to thin out. Only the man in the raven-beak mask and a hooded man in the corner remained silent. When the latter announced in a hoarse voice, "1,700 pounds," an eerie silence filled the entire basement.

"1,500 pounds, plus three charms."

It is the final offer from the former category.

Upon hearing this, the notary turned to Charlotte and asked with considerable respect, "Do you accept barter?"

"veto."

Her crisp voice rejected the possibility of bartering. In the past, she would have thought things through before making a decision, but now, with the help of Adeline, the goddess, and the library of the Church of Steam Supremacy, the healer no longer needed to exchange money for suitable items and the knowledge she lacked.

The cash that falls between her fingers and the time to grow are what she needs now, not only for the financial management of her various roles, but also to improve her living conditions as needed.

The fingers of the man in the raven-beak mask tapped three times on the edge of the table before finally falling limply. The notary looked around to make sure no one would raise the price before striking the gavel, and the mechanical nightingale inside the bronze birdcage emitted a dry cry.

"make a deal!"

“Please follow me.” The masked man gestured invitingly, leading the buyer and seller to a small private room behind a dark curtain. As Charlotte passed the long table, she keenly noticed at least five pairs of eyes fixed on the hem of her cloak, two of them clearly harboring malice.

The space behind the curtain was cramped and narrow, barely enough for a wooden table covered with iron and two high-backed chairs. The hooded man was already seated in one of them, his withered fingers toying with a ring set with an eye. As Charlotte sat down, the greyish-white eye suddenly moved and stared intently at her.

"Cash or bank draft?" His voice sounded like sandpaper rubbing against glass.

“One-third in cash, the rest in Hastings Bank drafts payable on demand.” Charlotte took out a lead box from her inner pocket and calmly pushed it to the center of the table. “You should know what the consequences will be for revealing the details of the transaction.”

“Of course.” A mocking tone emanated from his hoarse voice. The man was about to speak when he had to cover his lips and teeth to hide the blood that seeped out with each cough. “Cough, those church hounds won’t miss any opportunity to tear us apart.”

As he finished speaking, he took out a leather bag from under his black robe. The cash and drafts inside matched the numbers mentioned earlier perfectly.

"Pleasant to work with."

Charlotte lightly tapped the lead box with her fingertip to confirm that the other party had not tampered with it before taking the leather bag. She did not rush to get up, but instead slightly raised her eyes, using the dim light in the cubicle to sizing up the mysterious buyer in front of her.

His face was completely obscured by shadows beneath the hood, but his breathing was heavy and intermittent, as if his lungs were being eroded by some invisible force—perhaps this was why he so desperately craved the path of the 'Plague Messenger'.

“You look like you need a doctor.” The woman’s tone was calm, but carried a subtle hint of probing.

The man chuckled softly, neither confirming nor denying. Without regard for others, he opened the lead box and watched as the fungal spots on the parchment wriggled in the dim light, forming obscure symbols like tangible life.

“Perfect…” He squeezed out a muffled exclamation from his throat, pressing the eyeball on his ring close to the paper, its grayish-white pupil suddenly shrinking to the size of a pinhead. “Even the description of the suffering is perfectly preserved.”

"It seems that the fool who spread the plague in the outer city a few days ago died a glorious death. May I ask another question? How long did it take you to kill him?"

Charlotte's fingertips gently caressed her robes, while a subtle smile played on her lips beneath the mask as she uttered threatening words.

"Three seconds."

A few sparks suddenly flew from the gas lamp in the cubicle. The hooded man's shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly; this answer clearly exceeded his expectations—someone capable of instantly killing a Sequence Seven was at least a mid-Sequence powerhouse.

“I see…” His hoarse voice held a hint of awe as his withered fingers pressed the lead box deep into his black robe. “No wonder you don’t need those talismans. That colleague was really unlucky.”

When the two returned to the main hall, the party had moved on to the free trading phase, and the previously auctioned-off raven's beak mask was nowhere to be found. Charlotte took her ten percent commission from the notary and turned to leave, her keen senses instantly catching the glint of malice.

—There are eyes watching from the shadows.

Without making a sound, Charlotte reached for her waist and calmly stepped onto the damp stone steps. The night fog in Florence grew thicker, diluting the moonlight into a pale veil. She deliberately slowed her pace, the heels of her boots echoing clearly in the empty alleyways.

As she rounded the third street corner, the glass cover of the kerosene streetlamp suddenly shattered. The flying shards froze three inches from her cheek, as if hitting an invisible wall, and a frustrated click of the tongue came from the shadows.

"The arbitrator?" A hoarse male voice came from above the drainpipe. "No... there's no fluctuation of the law."

Without even raising her head, Charlotte's spiritual senses had already detected three or four visitors. Although she had considered this possibility, she hadn't thought that so many foolish and ignorant people would be consumed by desire.

However, it's also a good thing, as it can be considered a practical test of my ability to now combine three channels.

"What a grand farewell ceremony."

The healer chuckled softly, her silver mask gleaming coldly in the mist. She snapped her fingers, and the pile of garbage bins at the end of the alley exploded, startling a flock of carrion-eating night crows. In the instant everyone's attention was drawn to her, her figure had already seeped into the ground like molten mercury.

"This, this is?"

The leader suddenly pulled the trigger, the smooth-bore bullet forcing through the airflow, but only struck the fading afterimage, hitting the stone road that remained in his vision. In that instant of confusion, a swift bulge rose from the asphalt road, like a giant python crawling beneath the skin, and in the blink of an eye, it was at the leader's feet.

The path of the 'nest' is enough to change the form of life, allowing beautiful women to express their talents in any way.

Charlotte hastily pressed her hand down, only to be severed by a flash of silver light the instant it touched the ground. She spun out of the shadows, the scalpel tracing a crescent-shaped arc. Before the blood could even splatter, she raised her left leg, transforming her toe into a slashing blade, cutting across the chest of another attacker—a muffled thud of flesh tearing apart mingled with a scream.

The brass lantern the man held suddenly burst forth with a blinding green light, and the skeleton inside the lampshade let out a shriek. However, when the sound wave touched Charlotte's genitals, it seemed to collide with a vast ocean, strangely reflecting back towards the lantern holder himself. Taking advantage of the moment when the other woman covered her ears and staggered, she pounced on her and precisely severed her vulnerable neck with a palm strike.

"The information is wrong!"

The woman watching from the left screamed and retreated, pulling a handful of scarlet powder from her bosom and scattering it into the air.

The blood mist condensed into countless tiny insects, but suddenly solidified and corroded as it lunged at Charlotte. Spiderweb-like golden patterns appeared deep within the healer's pupils, and the insects turned, frantically burrowing into the caster's own nostrils. As she collapsed, scratching her throat, the remaining attacker finally realized he'd kicked a hornet's nest.

Flesh buds were just beginning to grow from the man's severed wrist, but he was already powerless to resist. He could only crush the talisman, which split into three indistinguishable phantoms amidst the swirling mist.

However, the cold-faced doctor raised his lips and uttered only a few words.

Fraud is prohibited here.

In an instant, all illusions vanished like bubbles. The real attacker emerged from behind the beauty, his hand, shrouded in shadow, aimed straight for her back. He knew he had no chance of escape and could only fight to the death. But the clang of metal clashing shattered the mist, and then his body was corroded by the escaping bacteria, turning into a wisp of dust and disappearing without a trace.

Charlotte tilted the blade, flicking away the thin droplets of blood from its tip. She glanced at the mess on the ground, then tossed her cloak and vanished completely into the night. When the patrolmen arrived with gas lamps, they found only a few melting 'wax figures' at the end of the alley—doppelgangers created through mimicry via the Nest Path. The real corpses had long since been dragged into Florence's intricate sewer system by the fleshy tendrils extending underground.

As the bedroom window opened silently, Eliza stirred her cup of hot cocoa with a silver spoon. The young woman, wrapped in a down robe, had the Florence Medical Annals open on her lap, its pages stuck on the chapter on vaccine development.

"Welcome home." She blew away the steam without looking up. "Would you like some cinnamon?"

Charlotte removed her mask, her hair still damp from the night mist. She gazed at the girl's porcelain-white nape in the lamplight, then suddenly reached out and pulled her into an embrace. Eliza's eyes widened in surprise, but she heard the healer bury his face in her shoulder and say in a muffled voice:

"Sorry for making you worry."

.....

Chapter 194 Swan

The next day, before the morning mist had completely dissipated, Charlotte was already leaning against the wall, closing her eyes to rest and recuperate.

A frosty aura wafted from her nose, leaving damp spots on the gray stone bricks. As she bent down to adjust the buttons on her cuffs, the sound of boot heels striking the ground came from behind her.

"You arrived twenty-seven minutes early."

A sharp voice came from the doorway, and Silva's figure was like a blade cleaving through the morning mist. Today she had changed into a hunting outfit that was easy to move in, her long silver hair was tied into a high ponytail, and the embroidered epaulettes gleamed with a faint, cold light.

"I'd like to allow some time for you to adjust, ma'am."

She turned and bowed, then spoke in a neither humble nor arrogant manner, showing no sign of backing down.

"Yes, a good sense of time is indeed commendable."

She unsheathed her sword and stood at the edge of the arena. Her gaze swept over Charlotte's stance, and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

"The 'Favored Ones' path is distinct from the church's system. The future of each believer who embarks on this path is unpredictable. If they wish to advance, in addition to the necessary potions and complete rituals, they also need—"

A flash of cold light appeared, a sharp edge gleamed.

Charlotte merely turned her head slightly, showing no fear, as the sharpened wooden sword grazed her flowing hair and drove into the stake behind her. The blade vibrated and hummed, and a few strands of golden hair that had been severed slowly drifted down.

“A certificate.” Silva withdrew his throwing motion, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes. “Proof that you are capable of bearing its weight and taking on its responsibility.”

She drew her wooden sword sideways, gently tracing the fine patterns on its blade. This was a training sword specially made by the Arbitration Court; the ash wood, soaked in holy water, perfectly simulated the spiritual transmission of extraordinary weapons. However, the wooden blade was much heavier than the revolver she was used to, and the hilt was wrapped with rough hemp rope, making her feel somewhat unfamiliar with it.

“Show me everything you have practiced and become proficient in since joining the arbitration tribunal.”

Before the former could even grasp the object in his fingers, a mere warning was enough to send a fierce gust of wind blasting towards them, forcing the airflow aside.

Instinctively, she parried with her sword, the two ash wood blades clashing with a dull thud. A tingling sensation shot up her arm from her tiger's mouth, and Charlotte took a half step back to dissipate the force, only to see Silva's sword blade following her like a shadow, drawing continuous silver lines in the air.

"If one is content with a clerical position, there is no need to climb higher. Promotion in the hierarchy also comes with a higher risk of losing control. I cannot sit idly by and watch a young woman go mad in her blind pursuit of power."

The blade grazed the girl's collarbone, leaving a faint red mark.

“If this is my dereliction of duty, if that introduction that day has led to evil consequences, then the sword of law should also fall on my body, the body of a sinner.”

The second sword slashed upwards from a tricky angle. Charlotte hastily turned to the side, her hair being cut off by half an inch. The whistling sound of the wooden sword tearing through the air stimulated her eardrums. She slowly closed her eyes, surrendering her body to her spiritual senses and premonitions.

With a flick of the wrist, the gripping posture changed in an instant, and even the aura shifted from outward to inward.

Charlotte, who has now been promoted to the 'nest', is naturally able to capture the progression of the blade, but since the other party wants to see it, she is happy to show another side of herself.

She spun around, shifted her stance, and leaned forward to dodge. The passing sword blades still brought gusts of cold wind, but the same old attacks could only graz her waist, leaving white marks on the stone wall.

"Very good. Relying on visual perception is a human instinct, but also a limitation. The extraordinary transformation of the exceptional is beyond the norm, and this is even more true for the favored."

Such praise was instantly overwhelmed by a series of muffled murmurs.

Thump, thump, thump.

The clash of the driftwood was dense and intertwined. The girl's golden hair, which had been tied back, was now soaked with sweat and clung to her fair cheeks. Her thumb and forefinger were slightly numb, but her sword-wielding posture remained perfect. In a state of complete reliance on her intuition, she began to grasp the patterns in Silva's attacks—like deciphering a complex musical piece.

The trajectory of the sword tip cutting through the morning mist became clearer and clearer. As her gaze drifted into a blank, her remaining senses spread out like ripples—she heard the faint hiss of the ash wood fibers under pressure, smelled the fragrance of pine resin on the sword as it heated up with her movements, and even sensed the subtle changes in Silva's breathing rhythm.

The instant the sword grazed her ear again, Charlotte spun and cut into the center line of the other's body, the wooden sword slashing upwards at an off-center angle. At the moment of impact, she jerked the sword, sliding half an inch along with the opponent's force, then using the momentum to press down on the weight of her waist.

"Ding--"

With a crisp clang, Silva's sword was deflected for the first time, but this reversal of offense and defense did not harm either side. The sword tip stopped abruptly just as it was about to touch the former's chin—this action, which should have been full of aggression, ultimately turned into a pause like an invitation to dance.

The white-haired beauty's eyelashes trembled slightly. The morning light pierced through the narrow gap between the two, casting the intertwined sword shadows onto the gray stone wall, like a pair of swans with their necks entwined.

Several onlookers had appeared at the edge of the training field. Pederina, holding a bread basket, stared wide-eyed. Melvis crossed his arms and leaned against a pillar. Even Zelena stood by the second-floor window, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the tassels of the curtain.

"You have indeed mastered and made good use of the strengths of those who are guided by premonitions."

Without frowning, Silva genuinely expressed her approval.

However, before the words were even finished, the two figures clashed again. This time the attack was even more swift, the sword blades weaving a silver net in the air, but Charlotte's response was even more composed.

The wooden sword became incredibly light in her hands. No longer parrying, she merely deflected the blade, letting it graze the hem of her clothing with subtle movements. The fabric hissed repeatedly, but all the attacks that should have drawn blood missed their mark.

The two of them strode rhythmically on the bluestone slabs, and the wood chips that flew up when their swords clashed were like scattered gold dust. What should have been a messy evasive maneuver was instead performed by them like a graceful ballet.

Almost simultaneously, both sides withdrew their attacks and retreated, as if they had a tacit understanding.

“You’ve passed, Miss Earl Shaw.” With that one sentence, Silva put the wooden sword back into the weapon rack, letting her ponytail trace a clean arc as she turned to the side.

Charlotte was about to bow and take her leave when she heard a whooshing sound. She caught the object thrown at her—a handkerchief embroidered with a sword and scales pattern, inside which was wrapped a bottle of clear reagent.

“Wipe your sweat off. The ritual is complete. The potion is inside.” Silva, who had already walked to the veranda, said without turning back, “Besides, the tribunal’s uniforms are very expensive.”

A moment after training ended, Pedeline hopped over like a cheerful lark: "That spinning thrust was so beautiful! It was just like, just like..."

She waved the breadstick around, gesturing, "Like two swans fighting!"

Chapter 195 The Thief of Time

"You've worked hard, good girl." Zelena's voice drifted down from the second floor, like a feather gently touching her ear. She slowly walked down the spiral staircase, her gray eyes reflecting the morning light and the girl's figure.

Sylva's figure had long since disappeared at the end of the corridor, leaving only the potion bottle gleaming with a faint blue light in Charlotte's palm. Pederina leaned closer curiously, her nose almost touching the glass: "This is a Sequence Eight potion? It looks like..."

“Like frozen light.” Melvis appeared behind them unnoticed, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Drink it, and you will no longer be a mere ‘favorite’.”

Charlotte ran her fingers over the bottle, the cool touch of the glass container against her palm, and sensed a subtle spiritual pulse within the liquid. The potion was a peculiar semi-solid; whenever the bottle was tilted, the indigo-blue flocculent material would slowly cascade over, refracting a luster somewhere between emerald and peacock blue—like a piece of aurora sealed within a small space.

"Take it now?"

The girl's fingertips lingered on the bottle stopper, her beautiful emerald eyes gazing at the black-haired beauty.

Zelena shook her head slightly and took out a silver pocket watch from her bosom: "The absorption of potions is best aided by rituals. At noon, when the hands of the clock tower coincide, the goddess's radiance is at its purest." She paused, "And... I want to personally protect you."

This remark caused the Conch Girl beside him to widen her eyes, and even Melvis leaned forward slightly from the shadow of the pillar. The promotion of members of the arbitration tribunal is usually supervised by their direct superiors, but Ms. Z, as the regional head, personally oversaw the process, a rare occurrence in the last five years.

"It's my pleasure."

Seeing the expressions on everyone's faces, Charlotte knew that they were special, but she simply nodded slightly to show her calmness and gratitude.