As Butcher Garcia spoke with an unexpected eloquence, a vivid tapestry of this vast, apocalyptic world began to unfold in my mind. His tales were filled with both awe and obscenity.

He recounted the legend of the swordsman from Mount Hood, a man of chivalry and tender heart, who rode across the wilderness, slaying a monstrous bearvamp and rescuing one of his beloved wifes. His family of over twenty, finally reunited, celebrated with a raucous three-day, three-night orgy within their home, their fame echoing throughout Cascadia.

The flying thief from Okanagan Valley, known for his audacious heists, once infiltrated the Governor's mansion under the cover of night. He consumed the Governor's prized vintage wine, only to ferment it within his own body and then urinate it back into the original bottles, earning him the infamous moniker "Borrowed and Returned."

Then there was the mischievous master from the Kongo Shintai Temple, who pilfered two erotic paintings of ladies and slyly hung them on either side of the Buddha statue. When the Kaicho came to pay his respects, he was greeted with an unexpected sight. The Jushoku, wielding his Zen staff, promptly expelled the master from Seattle, sending him fleeing to the relative obscurity of Pinewood County...

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the last story, a puzzled look crossing my face.

Butcher Garcia smacked his lips, "Well, I figured if they were going to deny me Wave Realm training and precious medicines, I might as well leave them with a parting gift they wouldn't forget."

"Fair enough," I chuckled.

My gaze drifted towards the squad room door. The entire morning had passed without a single soul venturing into Supernatural Affairs. While I wasn't particularly worried about being questioned, the ease with which the matter of Sheriff Williams' death had been swept under the rug felt unsettling.

With time on my hands, I headed to logistics and requested a repair for my broken door. To my surprise, they readily agreed and even issued me a new dagger. Despite already possessing the Black Silver, an extra weapon never hurt.

The rest of the day passed in relative tranquility. I engaged in occasional conversations with Garcia, and whenever he got excited, we would spar.

He was truly passionate about martial arts. Even knowing I was far stronger, his fighting spirit remained undimmed.

I limited myself to using Tempest Strikes and Cobra's Coil during our exchanges, and I must admit, I learned a great deal.

Martial arts proficiency and combat experience are not the same. It's not enough to simply know your own moves; you also need to anticipate and react to your opponent's actions.

While the progress wasn't as rapid as absorbing lifespan from slaying vampires, there were no immediate opportunities to do so in Pinewood County with the remaining vampires all on high alert.

As far as I know, only two beastvamp lairs remained: Sarpa-Rani's and the North Cliff Fox's.

Sarpa-Rani was a renowned Wave Realm vampire. Going after her offspring was a fool's errand; instead of gaining lifespan, I'd likely lose my own.

I inquired with Garcia about any stray, low-level vampires.

He gave me a quizzical look. "Even the street thugs in the city form gangs and divide territories to secure their income. If you were a vampire, would you tolerate a stranger encroaching on your feeding grounds? You'd either subjugate them or eliminate them."

He paused, then added, "In this environment, any vampire capable of surviving on its own is unlikely to be a weakling."

I dismissed the idea of hunting, for the time being.

Whenever inspiration struck, I would find a quiet place, and discreetly utilize the panel to refine my techniques.

After work, I would carry home the vegetables and raw meat that Wade had thoughtfully purchased for me.

This routine continued for five days.

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During this time, the squad room was as quiet as if everyone had forgotten about us, which made Wade a little unnerved.

Butcher Garcia, on the other hand, was pleased. The lack of disturbances suggested that no one was falling victim to vampire attacks. He merely instructed the officers to be more diligent in their patrols and to occasionally venture into the countryside to ensure nothing was amiss.

"Today, we have water chestnuts and lettuce. And as you requested, I asked the butcher to set aside two pounds of lamb ribs. Here's the remaining change," Wade said, returning from his patrol and placing the items on the table.

"Thanks, Wade. You can head home. I'll lock up today."

I put away the cash and glanced at the panel's notification, a smile tugging at my lips.

The progress I'd made in these past few days, while not as dramatic as mastering Harmonious Quartet, had come at a minimal cost in lifespan.

I had expended a mere thirty-seven years to combine Cobra's Coil with Restless Ape, and pushing the resulting footwork technique to perfection.

[First Realm - Ape Plays with Python (Perfection)]

This new technique was not only faster than Cobra's Coil but also offered a bonus in close combat, making it an ideal fit for my fighting style.

Naturally, what excited me most was the progress on the Blood Evil Sword Technique, which finally showed promise after investing over fifty years of lifespan.

[In the fifty-fourth year, you attempted to refine the Blood Evil mist into true essence. This step was fraught with danger, but fortunately, your mastery of Harmonious Quartet provided a crucial reference, allowing you to faintly touch upon the threshold.]

If this deduction succeeded, I would have "personally" created a Wave Realm martial art, one honed over many years and perfectly tailored to my own strengths.

Unfortunately, my absorbed lifespan was dwindling.

I sighed and glanced at the True Explanation of Astral Fortification. I made no progress on this technique. The problem likely stemmed from the fact that I only possessed the first part of the technique, then forced a deviation through self-depletion to break through to the First Realm, straying further and further from the original path.

It was a foolishly bold endeavor. Hundreds of years of lifespan had been poured into it, yielding only the cryptic phrase "to ask from cosmics."

Aren't you afraid of exhausting cosmics’ patience? I mused wryly.

[Remaining Absorbed Lifespan: 185 years]

I'll try again tonight. Let's keep a hundred years in reserve for emergencies.

I dismissed the panel and left the squad room, groceries in hand.

In recent days, I had been spoiled by Rose's culinary talents, my palate becoming increasingly discerning. I appreciated her cooking more and more, and found myself willing to splurge on quality ingredients.

Even the BBQ Wade had brought back at noon seemed unappealing. Compared to the hot stews or perfectly cooked steaks waiting for me at home, the BBQ felt dry and lackluster.

"It's hard to go from luxury to frugality," I mused, a pang of guilt accompanying the thought. I quickened my pace.

Arriving at my house, I casually pushed the door open.

The familiar sight of Rose greeting me was absent.

A sense of unease crept in. I stepped further into the house, my instincts on high alert.

Suddenly, two arms encircled my waist from behind, fingers interlacing possessively at my lower abdomen. The familiar white sleeves, delicate wrists, and a subtle fragrance enveloped me from behind.

"Why are you back so late?"

A delicate face nuzzled against my arm like a contented cat, a hint of reproach in her glistening eyes. Her red lips parted slightly, her breath warm and sweet against my skin, her voice a soft, seductive murmur: "I missed you."

I remained silent, lowering my gaze to the rack of lamb in my hand.

Rose Hightower pressed her full bosom against my back, ignoring the offering of food, her eyes locked with mine. "Why aren't you saying anything? What's on your mind?"

Hearing this, I let the lamb ribs tumble to the floor, forgotten. Gently but firmly, I guided her into the bedroom, where we collapsed onto the bed. With a sense of urgency, I unbuttoned her white dress, revealing her full, soft breasts.

Just as her hands went to unbuckle my pants, I struck. With my left hand, I held her elegant neck, and with my right hand, I thrust the police-issued dagger hard at her chest.

The dagger sliced through the mattress, embedding itself into the bed frame with a thud.

In that split second, Rose erupted with a burst of energy, breaking free from my grasp. She rolled to my right, her hand flashing towards my neck, claws extended. Then, with a startled gasp, she stumbled off the bed and pressed her back against the wall, eyes wide with surprise and fear.

She must have been surprised that her claws, capable of tearing through bricks, couldn't even scratch me. And perhaps even more surprised that I saw through her deception, and managed to restrain myself at the most tempting moment.

"I was actually willing to continue playing along," I said, my gaze lingering on her partially exposed body. "But your acting is atrocious. If I kept pretending not to know, I'd look like a complete fool. And..."

"And what?" Rose Hightower widened her eyes, feigning innocence with a coy smile.

I frowned, my voice laced with disdain. "Your fox scent is overwhelming."

As I spoke, my fingers closed around the black hilt at my waist. The blade, gleaming with a sinister luster, slid from its sheath, releasing a thick, blood-chilling aura.

The mournful hum of the sword echoed through the room, like the wail of a tormented spirit.

The woman's pupils contracted. The bedroom was too small, leaving her no room to maneuver. In a flash, the sharp sword energy ripped through her sleeve.

This powerful, decisive strike would have cleaved her in two.

But then, melodious bell chimes filled the room.

Two floating bronze bells materialized before my eyes. As they gently tinkled, the black sword seemed to become ensnared in an invisible force, halting its deadly descent.