Volume Two: The Thousand-Faced Youth, Where Falsehood Seems True Chapter 108: Cutaneous Respiration

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Feng Wuming was supposed to be constantly guarding Dai Hua’an, so since Feng Wuming had rushed out from the Blue Tower, Dai Hua’an must be hiding inside that tower. However, Huo Ye found it puzzling. Dai Hua’an should know the tower wasn’t safe; the target was too obvious and it was too close to the flag. Logically, the two targets they were aiming for shouldn’t be so close together. As Shangguan Yudie had initially said, this arrangement only made things easier for their side. After killing him, they could directly climb the wall and effortlessly take down the flag.

Huo Ye could only think of it as the most dangerous place being the safest. This thought passed through him lightly, and he continued to observe the situation discreetly, preparing to infiltrate further. He didn’t just sneak around blindly; along the way, under the premise of not being detected, he had assassinated three or four A-level opponents, all of whom were ability users equipped with turret-like powers. After eliminating them, the Red side gained some breathing room.

There was no denying that Dai Hua’an’s command and tactical planning were excellent. Without Huo Ye, who forcibly broke the stalemate through brute force, the Red side might have truly been toyed with at their mercy.

Huo Ye quietly crept to the foot of the Blue Tower. He didn’t know where Shangguan Yudie was but believed she was nearby. His next step was to slip inside and find Dai Hua’an.

The tower had very few invasion routes, so to avoid detection, he had to be extremely cautious. Using his ability, Huo Ye surveyed the tower. It had five floors, each guarded by several sentries — clearly to prevent anyone from breaking through from within to snatch the flag. Among these guards, Dai Hua’an should be present.

Taking a deep breath, Huo Ye slowly infused his energy into the dozen or so Dragon Nail Ropes wrapped around his arms. The ropes writhed like living serpents, crawling out from his body and slowly climbing the windows of each floor, poised and ready outside.

The Dragon Nail Rope was a masterpiece crafted by the Huo family’s divine craftsman. Combined with Huo Ye’s ability forging, the ropes possessed a unique power: as long as the user had sufficient energy, they could extend indefinitely. Theoretically, they could wrap in coils around the entire surface of the Earth — and this limit was far from the maximum. Unfortunately, no one had that much energy.

As the commentator, Shen Jiewen had the duty to select the most worthy scenes to narrate. So far, Huo Ye’s assassination operation was the most captivating.

“Now, Night Rain Cold Crow has stationed beneath the tower. His weapons are quite rare; these don’t seem to be ordinary ropes. From my observation, the combined length of all these ropes far exceeds what he has on his arms. Night Rain Cold Crow has deployed his weapons on every floor, clearly intending to attack all the Blue side’s guards. Will he succeed?” Shen Jiewen lowered her voice slowly to build atmosphere, zooming in on the tip of one Dragon Nail Rope, as if it were not a mere weapon but a venomous snake waiting for prey.

Huo Ye did not attack immediately. He was waiting for the perfect opportunity — a moment to silently subdue everyone on the same floor in the shortest possible time, ensuring their mouths were covered to prevent any sound, so the other floors wouldn’t notice.

But the problem was, where was Dai Hua’an?

Using sound localization through the differences in echo between their masks and facial muscles, Huo Ye could distinguish and judge their facial shapes. After two minutes of such probing, he was certain Dai Hua’an was not there. He recognized Dai Hua’an’s face from the information Jiang Feng had provided.

Even if he couldn’t find Dai Hua’an, it was fine. The flag was right above, so he would simply snatch it cleanly and then go on to kill. Both tasks needed to be done anyway.

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Huo Ye paced his breathing carefully, feeling the nitrogen breaking down inside his body, generating his energy. Suddenly, he thought of the so-called internal skill in Chinese martial arts—a special breathing method. The resulting power was called internal force. So, might Huo Xialan also have internal skill? That could explain why he was so strong at such a young age. To be promoted to S-level at their age was a rare privilege — even in Bankloff, having three such prodigies was astonishing.

In fact, Huo Ye could have advanced earlier. Two years ago, he had hit a bottleneck. After Qingxue’s death, the barrier that had loosened seemed to be corked tightly by some unknown force, unbreakable despite his efforts. Looking back, it was likely Pandora’s doing.

But fortunately, this allowed Huo Ye to consolidate at the peak of A-level for two full years, accumulating strength for a future explosive breakthrough.

Immersed in his breathing, Huo Ye closed his eyes and listened intently to the sounds inside the tower — footsteps, breathing, even pulsebeats were crystal clear to him. The air around seemed to converge toward him, not only through his mouth and nose but also slowly seeping into every pore.

Skin respiration was rare knowledge Huo Ye had learned from Eddie. The skin was humanity’s first line of defense against harmful external factors, blocking bacteria, cold, heat, and more, maintaining a stable internal environment—an organ as important as any internal one.

Though the skin acted as a barrier, it was not completely dense; it could also breathe. The skin absorbed external substances through three main pathways: the stratum corneum, hair follicles and sebaceous glands, and sweat ducts—air included. Although minimal, supplying only about 1% of the body’s oxygen needs, it still contributed.

Eddie had mentioned skin respiration as a method to enhance abilities. By exercising ability and amplifying skin respiration’s power, one could increase the body’s breathing capacity, producing energy faster and in greater amounts, significantly boosting an ability user’s endurance. It also allowed survival in environments like underwater where mouth and nose breathing were impossible. This technique was Eddie’s invention and strictly confidential.

Huo Ye felt a spark of insight into the mystery of skin respiration, unaware that danger was silently approaching.

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At the capital of the Sola Colony, Sola City, outside an office in the Death God Hunt Squad headquarters, Krause nervously swallowed and loosened the collar of his railway security defense uniform to catch his breath. The uniform was well-fitted and comfortable—even suitable for yoga—but he felt as if something was choking his neck.

His nervousness wasn’t due to weakness but the office’s owner’s identity was too prestigious—so much so that in this disaster-ridden era, everyone regarded him as a spiritual pillar, a national hero. This man was none other than the Black Death God, the Harvester of Calamity — Eddie Hols.

The story began with a train assault incident. Krause, as a small team leader in the railway security defense unit and a minor soldier of the Hunt Squad, had never expected an opportunity to meet the greatest hero in human history.

But fate had it otherwise — the one who resolved that incident was this hero’s son.

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Krause had reported the matter, thinking it was done. But unexpectedly, Captain Hols suddenly sent orders from above, demanding him to come immediately to the Death God Hunt Squad headquarters. What was that about? Weren’t all the matters already documented in the written report?

Realizing that just standing at the door was pointless, Krause steeled himself, placed his hesitating hand on the door, and knocked on the gates of hell.

“Enter,” came a single, almost inaudible word from inside.

Krause took three seconds to confirm he had heard the word “Enter” before pushing the door and stepping in.

Inside was a modest office: a reception coffee table with a sofa, a bookshelf for files, and Captain Hols’s desk.

At that moment, Captain Hols sat at his desk, handling paperwork. He was an unremarkable middle-aged man, exactly as seen in news footage — no handsome features, no commanding gaze, no memorable appearance. Judging by his sitting height, he was barely over 1.7 meters tall, just a bit taller than average women. The only memorable feature was his lifeless, dead-fish eyes.

“Sit,” Eddie said without looking up, his single word making the nervous Krause tremble as he sat on the sofa.

Sweat poured from Krause’s forehead. He dared not look at Eddie, instead staring at the dusty tea set on the table. Although the floor was clean, the thick layer of dust on the tea set showed no one had touched it for half a year. Why hadn’t anyone wiped it?

“The tea set belongs to my son. If you dare touch it, I’ll kill you,” Eddie said, seemingly focused on his paperwork. His tone was flat, his words quick, without a hint of menace—but such a terrifying threat was even more intimidating. He still didn’t look up, though somehow he noticed Krause’s gaze on the tea set.

Krause sat upright, staring straight ahead like a statue. The real Captain Hols was indeed very different from the official-sounding military officer seen on television. Even though Hols had called him here, it was clear he didn’t regard him highly. To this day, Krause had no idea what Hols was truly thinking.