Battles between magi are battles of preparation; they never fight unprepared. Even the most research-oriented magus who dislikes combat would, upon leaving their workshop, absolutely inscribe a mystic code in the most accessible place—like their hands, or their clothing—so that in an emergency, they can instantly inject mana, using 'fuel' to start the 'engine', and manifest an ancient mystic phenomenon for combat or self-defense.
The former is a basic method of storing magecraft. The latter is a 'Mystic Code' that requires a solid foundation of magical knowledge to create. As a fellow magus, Rasputin was of course aware of this and had surely taken precautions. But no matter how prepared he was, what he was prepared for were inscribed spells, condensed mystic codes, not a magical Bounded Field composed of countless interconnected formulas that would normally only appear within a workshop, occupying a geographical advantage!
What Rasputin was facing was exactly such a being.
The moment the light flared, the youth's heavy black robe, which had been tightly clasped to his face, began to glow with a fine, flowing light. The complex silver patterns were finely divided, looking from afar like the scales of an ancient creature protecting its shell, or like holy, flawless feathers—the robe billowed backward, like a divine messenger spreading its wings!
God! On the throne, the immobilized Nicholas II's gaze was soaked in the light. As the Tsar, he was a devout believer. Otherwise, he wouldn't have invited so many theological masters when his son fell ill. Now, seeing the splendor displayed by Lu Kang, he was naturally captivated, believing him to be a messenger of God, an angel descended to earth! Nicholas II thought so, and so did his steward—if he weren't immobilized, he would probably be kneeling on the spot!
And if Lu Kang was an 'angel', then his enemy was naturally a demon!
"Mr. Demon, are you ready... to go to hell?" Lu Kang smiled at Rasputin, his appearance even more holy in the light. If not for this disguise, he wouldn't have come. He was planning to use this opportunity to gain Nicholas's reverence.
"You..." Rasputin, noticing the change in Nicholas II's gaze, couldn't help but grow angry. If he really let Lu Kang establish a fixed impression of being an angel in the Tsar's mind, then his plan to use hypnotic illusions, his painstaking efforts to inscribe magic formulas here, to create his workshop, to try and control this towering empire, would be completely ruined! This was something he could not tolerate. It was something he absolutely could not accept!
So, although his face was pressed by Lu Kang's hand, Rasputin made a decision in an instant. He also reached out his hand, a black shadow drilling out from under his messy, dirty robe with a speed that was almost instantaneous. A piercing shriek, like the scraping of metal, seemed to penetrate the eardrums!
Several black crows flew out from Rasputin's body! They were familiars. A magus's attendants, non-human things infused with mystery!
Under Rasputin's conscious control, the crows took flight, ascending to the high ceiling of the palace. The wide, majestic hall seemed to be lit by several flashes of lightning. The familiars' bodies were small but as fast as lightning, their black wings revealing a cold gleam, as if inlaid with countless blades! They were Rasputin's sharpest weapons, his best helpers for killing his enemies. Used for assassination, they were silent; for direct confrontation, they could achieve victory through surprise!
"Kill him!" Rasputin roared, his deep, sonorous voice booming through the palace. The crows subsequently swooped down, rising like lightning and falling like thunder. The resulting airflow tore apart the already wrinkled red carpet, scattering it like a crimson rain!
And under this dual 'pincer attack' of red rain and black lightning, Lu Kang stood his ground, unmoving, as if he hadn't reacted. Rasputin could almost see his head being severed from his body! He had indeed been caught off guard by Lu Kang's move of wearing his workshop. But now, with his trump card of hiding familiars in his body—this youth absolutely could not have expected it.
Rasputin was confident that even if Lu Kang reacted, he absolutely could not block this instantaneous surprise attack! Because it was too fast—so fast that the black lightning fell, so fast that the sound of clashing gold and stone rippled out, so fast that the crows fell to the ground, fluttered twice, and went silent.
Rasputin, though being held down, still couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from lifting in a rampant arc! "You're still daydreaming, Grigori Rasputin," Lu Kang's tone was calm. His figure was motionless, as if what had struck him were not lightning-fast familiars with wings as sharp as blades, but just a few insignificant mosquitoes and ants.
But how was that possible? Rasputin's eyes widened subconsciously. He hadn't even reacted to what had happened, hadn't understood what was going on. He had only seen the crows dive down and hit the youth's body. They should have sliced through him like tofu, breaking him into pieces. Instead, they had crashed into an iron wall, shattering themselves with a clang!
The next second, as Lu Kang's words fell, the hand pressing on Rasputin's face applied more force. In the second after that, patterns similar to, yet different from, the ones on his priest's robe emerged from deep within his sleeves, climbing out like threads and densely covering his entire palm.
And so Rasputin understood.
"A dual magic workshop?!" he exclaimed in shock for the second time.
"Surprised?" Lu Kang's face, bathed in light, truly looked like an angel's, yet it held a hint of playfulness. The thing inscribed with a magic workshop's formulas was not just his clothes, but also his skin! His skin was also a 'workshop', with its own system, both offensive and defensive! A dual workshop was a dual sanctuary—Lu Kang's trump cards were far more than just an 'outer coat'!
That was why he hadn't dodged. Not because he hadn't reacted, but because he didn't need to!
Astonishment, stupor, panic, fear... endless thoughts surged. Rasputin knew he had encountered a genuine monster, a 'Grand'-level genius. He wanted to beg for mercy, but Lu Kang gave him no chance. The outer robe billowed and fell like the closing wings of an angel. An extreme heat instantly evaporated everything like a furnace. Amidst the brilliant, flowing light, Rasputin simply disappeared—thoroughly and completely evaporated!
Rasputin was dead. From his body to his consciousness, from his physical existence to his conceptual existence in mystery, all had dissolved in that light. All that remained was scattered dust and a tattered, gold-trimmed carpet, and the slowly dissipating silver-white brilliance.
Rasputin was dead. And next, Lu Kang would take his place, becoming the mystic master who frequented the court.
"The demon has been exorcised." The priest's outer robe, which had returned to its black color, fell silently. Lu Kang stood with his hands down, facing Nicholas II above, who was filled with reverence. He smiled. A false smile.
In the eyes of Nicholas II, however, it was the height of truth and sanctity!
You can support me to read the story in advance at patreon.com/ImNova724
Type-Moon, is this really not the Reverse Side of the World? 50Chapter
In Type-Moon: Creating a Magecraft Family Lineage 50Chapter