The Lawless Man With A Thousand Chains

008 Ticking Bomb

Damon stared at the wreckage of the black Porsche. The front end had folded like crushed paper around the driver's legs, pinning them tight against the twisted metal. It was impossible to rescue the woman.

Steam hissed from the ruined engine. Stuck inside, she remained motionless, her face pale and slick with sweat.

Damon wasted no time on hesitation. He gripped the crumpled hood with both hands and tore it free as if it were cardboard. Metal screamed and peeled away in jagged sheets.

The door frame followed, ripped from its hinges with a single sharp pull. Shards of glass and steel scattered across the road. In seconds, the entire front half of the car lay in ruined pieces at his feet.

The young man reached in carefully, slid his arms beneath the unconscious woman, and lifted her free.

Her body was light but burning with fever. Shivers racked her small frame even while she was unconscious. He could treat her condition, but the woman needed to be in a restful state for the procedure.

Damon turned toward the high walls of Turner Mansion. With a single powerful leap, he cleared the compound wall, landing lightly on the manicured lawn inside.

Another bound carried him across the gardens and through the open rear doors of the mansion.

He carried her to the nearest bedroom, laid her on the wide bed, and stepped back.

The young woman's condition was worse than he first thought. Sweat soaked her white blouse. Her lips had turned blue. The rampage energy inside her chest pulsed like a living bomb, ready to tear her apart from within.

Damon drew a slow breath. There was only one technique that could extract such pure, destructive force without killing the host—Soul Binding.

It was a forbidden art of the sovereign path. Periander Fox had warned him never to use it lightly. The price was high, and failure meant death for both healer and patient.

Damon pressed two fingers to her wrist and began the procedure. He landed rapid strikes on key acupressure points along her arms, chest, and neck.

The woman arched once with a gasp, then went completely limp. Her breathing slowed into the deep stillness of forced unconsciousness.

Damon raised his right hand and activated an arcane surgery technique called Spectral Fist. Energy poured into his hand until the flesh turned translucent, glowing with pale gold light.

He drove the Spectral Fist straight into her chest. Her skin and bone offered no resistance.

His fingers closed around a seething ball of pure rampage energy, cold as death and burning like acid at the same time.

Damon pulled. The energy came free with a wet, reluctant sound.

The moment it left her body, the rampage energy attacked the young man. Black sparks erupted across his hand.

The power tried to devour the sovereign arts that held it, eating through muscle and bone like fire through dry wood. The energy ball swelled, crackling louder.

The air in the bedroom grew electric. Rampage energy was more powerful than nuclear power. One more second, and the entire mansion would vanish in a blast that would level half of Summit Ridge.

Damon clenched his fist with everything he had. The rampage energy fought him, thrashing, sparking, trying to explode outward. He forced it deeper into his own body.

His constitution, forged through years of sovereign arts training and rare medicines, swallowed the destructive force. The explosion happened inside him instead of outside.

For one blinding instant, Damon's body lit up as if he had been set on fire. Smoke rose from his skin. Then the light died.

If any other healer had attempted this impossible procedure, they would have been reduced to ash.

Damon swayed, thoroughly exhausted. The young man collapsed onto the bed beside the stranger, his head falling against her chest.

He bitterly thought, in hindsight, that he should have had lunch before attempting such a powerful, draining technique.

Fifteen minutes later, the young woman's health recovered, and she stirred. Her eyes opened slowly.

The first thing she felt was a heavy weight across her body and the warmth of another person pressed against her bosom.

Panic flooded her. She screamed and shoved hard, wriggling free and scrambling off the bed.

The woman's bare feet hit the floor. She spun, snatched a decorative dagger from the wall display, and raised it with both hands.

Damon woke to the sound of her scream. He pushed himself up on one elbow, still half-dazed from the drain of Soul Binding.

The first thing he saw was the silver blade pointed at his throat and a pair of furious, tear-filled eyes.

"What did you do to me? You monster!" she demanded, her voice shaking. "Why did I wake up in this bedroom in this condition with you?"