🤼‍♀️Chapter Five: The Deadly Battle in the Sea of Flowers (4)

With a faint crack, the elf impostor's head tilted to one side. Her eyes bulged, and her body convulsed violently.

Worried that she might make more noise, the cyborg tightened his grip, doubling the pressure. The elf impostor's neck bones shattered, severing her spinal cord and nerves. She went completely still.

Carefully, the cyborg laid the lizardfolk desecrator's corpse down and hid it under the flower stems. He then meticulously began removing the steel needles the lizardfolk had just placed.

Bending low among the flowers, he examined one of the poisoned needles. The needles were rough, with irregular barbs and rust spots. They were smeared with sticky black droplets that emitted a faint, sweet scent. Though the cyborg didn't understand the lizardfolk's language, he could guess the potency of these black drops.

"Who are these lizardfolk desecrators planning to ambush? Could it be the clownish sword saint Gulaba?" he wondered.

Gulaba's stealth skills were extraordinary, making him blend in like a boulder among the flowers. He had a unique charm ability that released pheromones, causing nearby creatures to unconsciously ignore him. A lizardfolk desecrator had walked past him over a dozen times, oblivious to the living person right under their nose. The cyborg couldn’t help but be impressed by Gulaba’s skill.

Interestingly, the cyborg could faintly sense Gulaba’s location. Despite visually overlooking him, the cyborg just knew where Gulaba was, a curious sixth sense.

As the lizardfolk desecrator got closer to Gulaba, the cyborg started to sweat. The lizardfolk was carefully setting poison needles, about to insert one into a large stone nearby.

"Strange, why won't this needle go in?" The lizardfolk felt significant resistance, unable to budge the needle. Squinting, he tried to see where it was stuck, only for his vision to blur. The needle was pinched between a thumb and forefinger, and the "stone" turned into a comical face.

"Sigh..." Gulaba sighed, dropping his disguise. He then pushed the needle, along with the lizardfolk’s entire forearm, into the lizardfolk’s mouth.

Overconfident in his camouflage, Gulaba had stayed in the center of the flower field. Because his disguise was so perfect, the lizardfolk desecrator hadn’t noticed and even planned to set traps on him. Now he had no choice but to act, especially since there were three more lizardfolk nearby who saw everything.

With his cover blown, Gulaba drew his dagger, The Concealer, and dashed toward the nearest lizardfolk desecrator.

The lizardfolk, still shocked at the boulder turning into a hulking man, saw a blur before feeling a cold sensation in his chest. The blur passed by, and he looked down to see a thin red line forming on his shirt. The line turned into a dark red scab, and he felt cold all over, unable to speak.

"Such a fast strike, the blood didn’t even have time to flow..." This was his last thought before collapsing.

Two more thuds followed as the other lizardfolk fell almost simultaneously. With their bodies hitting the ground, all the lizardfolk desecrators noticed the hulking man in the center of the flower field.

"It’s the sword saint Gulaba!" the lizardfolk priest shouted, alerting his comrades. The name Gulaba was infamous among the lizardfolk, with hundreds of their best having died by his hand.

"Abort the original mission! Lure Gulaba into the traps, eliminate him at all costs!" The priest made a swift decision. He knew their ambush on Laba’s lab was doomed, but if they could kill the renowned Gulaba here, it would be a far greater achievement than poisoning the lab.

Gulaba burst into loud laughter, guessing the lizardfolk priest’s intent despite not understanding their language. Despite his rough and foolish appearance, Gulaba was exceptionally shrewd. He laughed while quickly surveying the surroundings. He had memorized the locations of the poison needle traps set by the lizardfolk. If the desecrators were willing to risk their lives, escaping the flower field unscathed would be difficult.

The poison needles were the biggest threat. Gulaba had left his armor, Steam Iron Fist, at home, making it hard to ensure he wouldn’t get pricked.

"If only I were wearing Steam Iron Fist, the full steel armor would block all the needles," Gulaba regretted briefly, but the thought quickly passed. "But wearing it would mean bringing a coal furnace, which would dry out these beautiful lilies."

Thinking of Steam Iron Fist, Gulaba remembered the young cyborg he had recently met. Gulaba had been subtly monitoring the cyborg, noticing him eliminate a lizardfolk desecrator. More importantly, the cyborg’s movements had followed the path of the traps, suggesting he had cleared them.

This meant the path toward the cyborg was the least trapped. If Gulaba could avoid the needles, there was still a chance. The cyborg seemed skilled, cautious, and ruthless—a good ally. If Gulaba moved toward him, the lizardfolk would split their forces to confront the cyborg, reducing his own burden and potentially creating a gap in the encirclement.

Resolute, Gulaba laughed heartily and charged toward the cyborg.

Hiding among the flowers, the cyborg saw this and panicked, "Gulaba, you bastard! Don’t come over here!"