They all call me Great Master

Count Bert had come into contact with too many hearts.

The sensation of touching a heart, he was extremely familiar with.

Just like the heart of the Little Lion, strong and powerful.

But...

On the heart of the Little Lion was an unexpected secret technique—

Puppet Dance!

Master Alchemist Geppetto spent years researching to create this unique secret technique in hopes of making his puppet Pinocchio come to life.

Logically speaking, after this mad alchemist was put on the burning stake, this secret technique should have been completely lost.

"It seems the Golden Lion Family acquired more of the Holy Court's legacy than imagined!"

Count Bert did not crush the heart so close at hand.

Because, that heart had turned into wood.

Not only the heart, but the entire Little Lion had turned into wood.

Or to be precise...

A puppet!

Crack!

Its waist rotated, ignoring the original human structure, the puppetized Little Lion hugged Count Bert from behind, wooden arms extending one thorn after another, piercing into Count Bert's body.

Puff, puff, puff!

Among the sounds of flesh being pierced, Count Bert's face long since returned to calm.

Even though these wooden thorns each contained a poison capable of killing an Ascend Steper.

This poison originated from the Witch, it was Dove's Death Poison.

To create it, the mother of the Witch must witness her beloved child being tortured, her soul completely twisted, then four daggers made from the Witch's mother's arm and thigh were inserted into the Witch's limbs to drain her blood, finally smashing the Witch's own skull with her mother's skull, using this as the basis to make this soul-polluting poison.

And thus, even Ascend Stepers faced deadly threats.

Yet Count Bert was completely unscathed.

"How could such poison ever affect a Demigod?"

Count Bert retorted, without lifting a hand, the invisible airflow blew apart the puppetized Little Lion.

Not only scattered it to pieces, but also blew one hole after another into the puppetized Little Lion's body, as if it would corrode it completely at any moment.

But, in the next moment, the puppetized Little Lion restored itself.

Not only pieced itself back together, but also repairing the small holes on its body.

At the same time, the table in the secret room vanished.

The puppetized Little Lion moved its body.

Groan, groan.

Amid the unique sound of wood, the Little Lion's mouth split into hoarse laughter.

Just laughter, without a tiny bit of words.

And its body moved more vigorously.

Like a dance.

Yet definitely the ugliest kind.

Almost like a person's convulsions in their dying moments.

The aura of death suddenly intensified.

The intangible at this moment became tangible.

Gray aura enveloped Count Bert, urging him to dance.

This was a Dance of Death.

Also, the Death Poetry Society's Core Mystical Arts, if performed with Banshee's Wail, would instantly generate a Death Field enveloping a kilometer.

Within this field, even a Demigod would fall.

This is not a description, but indeed a Demigod died within it.

The first Master of Bloodflow, who brought the entire style to its peak with immense glory, met his end here, not by the Death Poetry Society.

But by...

The Golden Lion Family!

Therefore, Bloodflow held hostility towards the Golden Lion Family.

Of course, that was a long time ago.

Now?

The one recognized as Bloodflow's heir, Blood Shadow's Thorn, stood beside the Old Lion.

However, even without Banshee's Wail, its power was astonishing. In the gray mist, Count Bert furrowed his brows again.

It was a sense of choice.

Ultimately, this Earl raised a hand.

The gray mist dispersed.

A streak of white appeared on Count Bert's hair tips.

But soon, that streak of white disappeared.

Along with the disappearance of Alvis's heart.

"Is this the secret to your undying nature?"

The Little Lion spoke.

The words came out raspy and unpleasant from a puppet's mouth.

"Flesh replenishment?

Is this immortality?

How dull—I thought I'd witness some earth-shattering secret technique, but it turned out to be just this?

Come on!

Let me show you what true immortality really is!"

As the puppetized Little Lion spoke, it raised an arm.

This time, no wooden thorns popped out.

Instead, it transformed into a barrel!

In the next moment—

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

A barrage of bullets shot out amid flames.

Don Green's Mechanical Gunpowder Sect Core Mystical Arts: Mechanical Gunpowder Transformation.

But unlike normal Mechanical Gunpowder Transformation, the puppetized Little Lion lacked flesh bound only by a pile of wood.

Yet it unleashed power far beyond imagination.

A secret technique meant to use flesh as bullets at that moment turned into using wood as bullets, although it seemed the puppetized Little Lion was still using 'its own flesh'.

But under normal circumstances, such a thing would never happen.

So...

Distortion!

Theofact Psychic Cultivation Association's Core Mystical Arts 'Distortion'!

Glancing at the rapidly vanishing wooden furniture and floor nearby, Count Bert searched for the 'distortion point'.

Quickly, he discovered the clue under the puppetized Little Lion's scalp.

Beneath hair seemingly crafted from some sort of thread lay Glyphic Language, ultimately forming the Mystical Arts 'Distortion'.

Without hesitation, Count Bert acted.

The middle-aged Earl moved through the puppetized Little Lion's rain of bullets, ignoring his own injuries, and reached for the Little Lion's head.

The Little Lion did not dodge.

It even took the initiative to draw closer.

Don Green's Mechanical Gunpowder Sect's Mystical Arts 'Mechanical Gunpowder Transformation' not only involved bullets, but cannons, and… Explosives.

Boom!

The puppetized Little Lion self-destructed.

Using itself and all the wooden furniture in the secret room as the medium, it produced an explosion no weaker than Fourth Order Ascend Steper level.

The puppetized Little Lion vanished into ashes.

Similarly, Count Bert lost half of his body.

Yet, the Little Lion wasn't dead.

The puppetized Little Lion ceased to exist.

But the body the Little Lion had prepared beforehand still remained.

Almost at the instant the puppetized Little Lion perished, its soul was drawn into the ring it carried, the stored Fresh Blood rapidly surged, enveloping the Little Lion's ring.

In an instant, the Little Lion was reborn.

"Parasitic Revival!

Pain Church's Core Mystical Arts!"

Instantly restored, Count Bert sighed softly.

Clearly, even this Earl marveled at the Little Lion's endless secret techniques.

Yet, this marvel still carried an air of superiority.

The Little Lion sensed it.

But the Little Lion did not care, he merely grabbed clothing from the ring while surveying the surroundings of the secret room that had resumed 'normalcy'.

Gazing at the secret room void of battle marks, the Little Lion took a deep breath—

"An undead monster?

So that's it!

You weren't devouring flesh but using the flesh's time…

You actually stole time!"

With those words, the Little Lion's eyes burned with fervor.