Oh My God! Earthlings are Insane! Chapter 953 - The Reaper's Modulation Technique

Chapter 953: The Reaper’s Modulation Technique

The servants quickly adapted to Lady Ice Storm’s killing intent.

Even if the Mithril Ripper let out a shrill howl that tore through the air and brushed past their heads, and the icicle-like killing intent pierced through their spines from the top of their heads, they would be able to suppress the fear in their hearts and coordinate with Lady Ice Storm to launch an attack together.

However, there was another thing that was not so easy to adapt to.

It was the Reaper’s hands.

Until now, Spider still did not know the background of the mysterious Reaper with black hair and black eyes.

In the beginning, everyone was very grateful to him.

It was because Leaf had told everyone that it was the Reaper who had convinced Ice Storm. “Trash” like them, who seemed to be useless and could never be chosen by other gladiators, were lucky enough to escape from the dungeon that had devoured the lives of countless rats.

The Reaper brought them food with a smile and taught them how to adjust their breathing and fall asleep soundly. The seemingly harmless appearance also made them gradually relax their vigilance.

Although the crisscrossing wounds on their bodies were terrifying to look at.

But with such serious injuries, it was impossible for him to do anything to everyone, right?

Such a childish idea was really wrong.

In fact, the Reaper didn’t force everyone to undergo too difficult training.

He only said that after eating and sleeping, Lady Ice Storm asked him to give everyone a ma.s.sage to warm up their muscles and bones and adjust their strength.

Some of the well-informed rat folk soldiers had heard that in the homes of the rich and powerful clans’ old masters, there would be many rat servants who were proficient in the ma.s.sage techniques pa.s.sed down from generation to generation. After the old masters completed the high-intensity training, they would relax, they could quickly recover their strength and avoid the acc.u.mulation of fatigue and injuries.

Many famous witch doctors also became distinguished guests of the military n.o.bles through similar techniques.

They did not expect that these lowly rat folk could enjoy the treatment that only the clan warriors could enjoy.

Spider and the others could not help but feel overwhelmed by the favor.

When the Reaper’s palm, which seemed to have ten sharp blades in it, gently pressed on his shoulder, Spider finally realized what it meant to hide a knife in a smile.

How was this a stretching tendon?

It was a torture that was worse than death!

The moment the Reaper exerted his strength, Spider cried out in pain.

He felt as if dozens of giant pythons, no, dozens of lightning bolts were swimming in his body, tearing apart every strand of his muscles and tendons. Every inch of his bones were crushed, and then between the shattered flesh and blood… a large amount of mucus that was as thick as the juice of the mandrake tree and as hot as magma was injected into his body, putting his body back together again.

Spider let out a pig-like squeal.

It struggled desperately, trying to break free from the Reaper’s control.

However, the Reaper seemed to have not recovered from his serious injuries and looked extremely weak. His hands were as hard, stable, and powerful as if they were wearing an invisible totem armor. They pressed firmly on his shoulders, making him unable to move at all… even his throat was blocked by the pain like a tidal wave. His howls turned into tears of humiliation that flowed down his face along with his wrinkles.

Ever since Spider was weaned, he had never shed a single tear.

In the eyes of the Turan people, tears were a terrifying plague.

Spider, who was first to be “tortured” by the Reaper cried until he was covered in snot and tears. Spider looked like a child and was immediately shunned by all the servants, except for Leaf, as though he was the G.o.d of plague.

However, he did not stay as the G.o.d of plague for long because, along with the Reaper’s merciless treatment, all the servant soldiers were tortured by him. They cried like flowers that had been ravaged by a storm.

Since everyone had shed tears.

Then there was no question of who looked down on who.

Moreover, this 30-man servant group seemed to have become more united. They seemed to share a common enemy.

After all, in the Blood Skull Arena, no, in Black-corner City, no, in the entire Picturesque Orchid Lake, among the tens of millions of rat militia, they were the only squad that had shed tears before!

The Reaper’s torture was not over yet.

It was not as simple as torturing everyone once a day.

Instead, it was three meals a day, often with one supper, torturing the poor rat militia day and night.

Spider originally thought that he could endure the pain.

After all, he had once stepped into the nest of the venomous “fire ants” deep in the mountains and forests.

When his feet were bitten by dozens of fire ants and swollen to the size of his head, he still did not make a sound and dodged the patrolling totem beasts nearby. Relying on his astonis.h.i.+ng willpower, he limped down the mountain.

However, the power that the Reaper injected into his body through his hands was ten times more powerful than the poison of the fire ants.

Moreover, every time he thought that he had already adapted to the pain brought by the Reaper, the Reaper would find a way to stimulate his different joints, tendons, and even organs.

It made him feel as if his body was filled with thorns and was constantly swimming like a poisonous snake, tearing and devouring his internal organs.

The rat militia on the verge of collapse wanted to ask for help from Lady Ice Storm.

However, Ice Storm treated her servants with the att.i.tude of a traditional n.o.ble.

It was to ignore them and let the servants die.

Unless they could survive one or two fierce battles and prove their strength.

Otherwise, the clan warriors would not waste even the blink of an eye on the rat militia.

Ice Storm was not good at all. It did not even like training and commanding these weak rat civilians.

Since there was Reaper to do it for her, she was happy and relaxed. She could focus on refining her totem combat skills.

In the end, what supported the rat militia to grit their teeth and endure the torture was that they were shocked to find that their strength had increased!

Not just by one person, but also not by a little bit.

It was all the people who had been tortured by the Reaper—no, “modified”—whose strength had increased at a speed visible to the naked eye, or even at the speed of a volcanic eruption.

In the past, only those who had gritted their teeth could carry three to five hundred kilograms of stone locks.

Now, they could easily carry two stone locks and operate as if they were flying.

In the past, more than ten punches were needed before the mandrake tree stump, which was as thick as a hug, could be smashed into a clear fist print.

Now, they only needed to hit it with all their strength and it would send wood chips flying, leaving a fist-sized deep hole.

In the past, carrying a sandbag that weighed 300 to 500 pounds would make them gasp for breath after running two laps.

Now, even the thinnest among them, or a middle-aged man like Spider, could carry a sandbag that weighed 300 to 500 pounds. Two teammates could sit on it and run seven to eight laps without any effort!

After they gradually adapted to the pain, they could clearly sense a strong resistance in the depths of their flesh and bone marrow every time the Reaper made the adjustments.

The pain would pa.s.s like a tide.

But this resistance was deeply imprinted in their bodies!

No Turan did not desire to be strong.

The rat subjects, who lacked inheritance, resources, and cultivation methods, were even more unwilling to give up any hope of becoming stronger.

Even if this hope had to be watered with their sweat, tears, and even blood.

In the first two days, the rat subjects who had been tortured by the Reaper cursed this black-haired, black-eyed fellow in their hearts, thinking that he was a demon from the Eternal Night Abyss.

When everyone discovered the transformation in their bodies, their fear of the Reaper immediately turned into ecstatic wors.h.i.+p.

Especially when the Reaper began to teach them specific moves.

In fact, it wasn’t a particularly exquisite move.

It was nothing more than brandis.h.i.+ng a large knife and slas.h.i.+ng fiercely.

When the rat militia soldiers were at home, they mostly cultivated and gathered for a living.

However, to harvest the mandrake fruit from the thick branches, they still needed a certain amount of strength and skill.

They originally thought that the so-called battle was to use the greatest strength, swing the biggest battle saber or battle axe, let out the greatest roar, and chop down ruthlessly. Whether they lived or died, it was up to the ancestral spirits to decide.

In the past thousands of years, the rat folk had fought like this.

The Reaper was not in a hurry to make them swing their knives and let out angry roars.

Instead, they called everyone out and slowly pointed out how many vital points they had on their bodies, how their hearts, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys were distributed, what kind of consequences would occur when their vital points were attacked, and how to adjust the force exerted and the angle of the battle knife, only then could the destructive power be magnified to the extreme, and destroy as many vital points as possible of the enemy in one go.

The calm and unhurried manner in which he spoke made one shudder in fear.

It was as if he was an experienced chef.

Plus, his opponent was only having his throat cut and waiting to be dismembered.

His gaze that was sharper than a blade and his familiarity with the structure of the human body made the servants wonder if the mysterious Reaper had really harvested and dissected countless lives.

In any case, the techniques taught to them by the Reaper were indeed very effective.

In particular, they adjusted their muscles and tendons with heavy techniques, flexing their stiff joints, and guiding them to find the right way to exert their strength.

When the rat civilian servants practiced the first move of the One Hundred Saber Techniques, Forward Wind Cutter, they were even more efficient and made rapid progress.

The power of the move also shocked the rat folk soldiers themselves.

The mandrake tree stump, which was as thick as a hug and as hard as iron, might not even be broken by seven or eight axes if they were to chop it randomly.

However, with the three basic force-execution methods taught by the Reaper to operate Forward Wind Cutter, even if they were swinging a stone ax that was not sharpened, they would be able to chop a big tree stump into two halves with one swing of the axe!

Although it was incomparable to Leaf, a monster that had been modified by the Reaper to be able to carry a stone axe and chop a tree stump that was three to five arms tall and as thick as four to five people into fingernail-sized pieces in one go.

However, ordinary servants such as Spiders were already very satisfied with their progress.

In particular, the Reaper had told them that as long as they could win a team battle, they would be able to get more food and longer training time, and they would have the opportunity to learn even more powerful killing moves.

Everyone regarded the mysterious black-haired and black-eyed rat as a powerhouse second only to Lady Ice Storm.

They were filled with confidence and antic.i.p.ation for fighting under their training and command!