Chapter 140: Taking Action
Chapter 140: Taking Action
The terrifying thing was, it wasn’t just a simple illusion.
The iron door was slapped inward by Fang Jing’s hand, leaving a palm print on it. This move contained hidden force, incredibly fierce and violent. With a loud “boom,” the entire door rushed toward the crowd.
A door taller than a person was sent flying with a single palm strike, carrying a wave of air as the iron door crashed forward. The people standing directly in front didn’t even have time to raise their guns to shoot; they fled in panic.
This act of fleeing caught Fang Jing’s attention.
He was unarmed, which should have put him at a disadvantage, but his vision was sharp, his mind quick, and his thoughts turned rapidly.
“Opportunity!” That was his immediate thought.
In the next instant, his body’s instincts were triggered. The muscles in his arms suddenly tightened, his waist twisted forcefully, and his body curled up like a monkey.
In the eyes of others, Fang Jing’s head lowered, as if he had disappeared from behind the iron door.
The next second, with his energy gathered and ready, he extended his foot and darted forward like a venomous snake. In one step, he closed in on a man. One hand rose from below, bypassed the man’s gun-holding hand, and struck upward, shattering his Adam’s apple.
Crack!
At the same moment the sound of breaking bones was heard, Fang Jing twisted his body and turned. He and the gunman switched positions in an instant, as if they had spun around.
Everyone present felt their vision blur.
He pressed close to the body and exerted force again. With a flick of his arm, the man was sent flying, crashing into two members of the Takaha Group who had stood up from the sofa across the way.
The two saw a figure hurtling toward them and, recognizing their own companion, naturally reached out to catch him.
The moment they made contact with the body, both felt as if electrocuted. The figure slammed into them, and without even a grunt, they were knocked to the ground along with the sofa behind them, pinned under the corpse.
This was the Karate technique “Uchi-ate,” which could strike through obstacles. Kume Nansho had once used it on Fang Jing. For Fang Jing, who had already grasped the secrets of “High Dragon Force” and “Dark Dragon Force,” it wasn’t a difficult move to execute.
He moved with overwhelming force, killing and injuring like lightning. His actions were faster than a flash, smooth and uninterrupted, completed in one go.
“Kill!”
Without a moment’s pause, he inhaled and exhaled sharply. His waist, legs, soles, and spine all exerted force in a rhythmic, spring-like motion. Like a vicious wolf pouncing on its prey, he skimmed across the ground, his fist descending from above to smash into a man’s forehead.
It was as if a strong man, using all his might, had gripped a large iron hammer and brought it down squarely on the target.
At this point, there was no time to use a gun. The man’s only instinct was to raise his hands to block.
But how could such a fist be blocked?
His arms broke, and his forehead took the full force of the punch. It was as if his skull had been shattered, and he fell to the ground, his face covered in blood.
Bang!
Someone fired a shot in panic, but the bullet went completely astray.
Fang Jing swung and turned his body, sweeping out with a whip kick. In that sudden burst of power, his leg cutting through the air produced a sharp, explosive sound.
The thug was kicked, and his nearly two-hundred-pound body was sent flying through the air, crashing hard into a liquor table behind him. Beer bottles on the table splattered everywhere, foam flying all around.
His body crushed the liquor table, and the right side of his face caved in. It was unclear whether he was dead or alive.
Fang Jing glanced around. No one was left standing; the members of the Takaha Group had all been “put down” by him.
The only exception was a fat man in a white suit. He was holding a man hostage, gripping a gun and nervously pointing it at the hostage’s head.
Near a pool table, five tied-up people knelt on the ground, their hands and legs bound.
However, Teacher Sakaki Tetsuhei was not among them.
“Who… who are you? Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot him dead!”
The fat man, dressed in a white suit and looking as ridiculous as a pig, stared nervously at Fang Jing, his gun aimed at the man.
“You… could it be Nishizuka?”
The man had a deep scar on his forehead and bloodstains on his face, but his eyes were exceptionally calm.
“It seems you didn’t recognize me without my sunglasses. I’m Higashi Yuantai from the Sunao-gumi. Remember…”
“So it’s you.”
Fang Jing thought to himself.
“Stop wasting my time! Another word and I’ll shoot him first, then you!”
Fat Shiota’s forehead was drenched in sweat, and he felt the palm of his gun hand was also sweating profusely.
Everything had happened too fast and was too bizarre.
He had specifically brought Higashi Yuantai to “X-Baseball” because it was their turf.
The group of delinquents gathered on the baseball field below “X-Baseball” served as the best peripheral cover for their Takaha Group. Thanks to the Juvenile Law, even the police had trouble dealing with these delinquents. Add to that the numerous human rights groups and the noisy media in the country, and Fat Shiota had believed this place was secure and safe enough.
“He’s just one person. How can he be this strong? Could it be that the hundred or so people downstairs were also taken down by him…”
Fat Shiota was nervous; all his men were lying on the ground.
…Earlier, the woman sent by the “Black Devourer Syndicate,” who called herself some kind of combat specialist, hadn’t returned either. It seemed she had also kicked the bucket.
(Damn it! What should I do? It’s okay… I still have a gun. As long as I have a gun…)
“Oh! You’re quite brave. You should know that everyone who pointed a gun at me earlier is now lying on the ground.”
Fang Jing narrowed his eyes like a leopard and slowly stepped forward.
Fat Shiota felt a chill run down his spine. His gun hand drooped unnaturally, but he gritted his teeth and aimed the dark muzzle at Higashi Yuantai.
“You… if you dare come any closer, I’ll kill Higashi Yuantai.”
“Long time no see! Brother Yuantai.”
Fang Jing also recognized who this man was; he must be an important figure in the Sunao-gumi.
“My teacher, Sakaki Tetsuhei, was taken away by someone from the Sunao-gumi, so I came here looking for him. I didn’t expect you to be here too…”
“Sakaki Tetsuhei… you mean Brother Sakaki? I see. He wasn’t taken by the Takaha Group; he was probably taken by the Black Devourer Syndicate.”
“I see.”
It seemed there were likely complicated reasons behind this matter.
Fang Jing reached out with one hand and pulled a nearby pool table. In front of Shiota and Higashi Yuantai, he lifted the large pool table, made of high-grade oak and Italian marble, over his head.
This caused everyone who witnessed it to feel a surge of shock and fear from the depths of their hearts. They opened their mouths, struggling to exhale the breath stuck in their chests.
“Go!”
He extended his right hand and, like throwing a ball, hurled the half-ton pool table into the air. The target was Shiota, who stood frozen in place like a wooden chicken, and Higashi Yuantai, who was tied to a chair.
An intense sense of unreality made Shiota feel as if bound by chains, rooted to the spot. Both he and Higashi Yuantai watched as the pool table was thrown toward them.
“Monster—!”
A wail escaped his lips. Fat Shiota completely forgot to fire his gun or to run away.
In fact, at this point, what else could he do but close his eyes in despair?
Boom!
In the blink of an eye, an iron leg descended from above. The thigh shook and exerted force, combined with a burst of joint power, descending like a battle axe.
It was as if it carried the momentum of a great axe splitting the world, heavy and fierce, and faster than imaginable. It actually managed to catch up to the pool table flying through the air.
This axe kick was unimaginably powerful. With one kick, it shattered the pool table in mid-air into two halves. One half of the marble crashed through the second-floor glass window.
The other half broke apart and was sent flying four or five meters away. Meanwhile, Fang Jing’s heel, with a violent force, crushed Fat Shiota’s head inward. His neck broke limply, his shoulder bones shattered, as if his head had been stuffed into his chest.
Higashi Yuantai’s face was splattered with the blood from the fat pig’s exploded head. He was also utterly terrified inside.
He had heard tales of Kume Nansho’s bravery since childhood from his elders. He had also seen many skilled martial artists, but his years in the Yakuza had taught him some harsh truths.
No matter how strong a martial artist’s skills, they were still limited by the human body. They were destined to get injured, feel pain, and weaken, just like ordinary people.
But this time, Fang Jing’s performance was too shocking, far beyond his previous understanding.
“Brother Yuantai, you’re not looking so good.”
Fang Jing untied him and also freed his subordinates.
“What exactly happened? Teacher Kume has been missing for a long time, Teacher Sakaki Tetsuhei was taken away, and what about the ‘Black Devourer Syndicate’? What are they exactly?”
“That’s a long story…”
Higashi Yuantai let out a deep sigh. “Let’s get out of here first. If the police find us, it’ll be hard to handle.”
“Right.”
He nodded.
Thinking about how many people he had killed this time, he really needed to consider that.
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The Black Devourer Syndicate was the largest transnational criminal organization in Asia. Within the organization, there were “combat specialists” specifically responsible for the combat domain.
Especially the “League of Nether Ghosts,” led by one of the top executives, Kuki Muen, was an extremely violent group of assassins.
“As expected, with our current methods, we still can’t lure out the old man Wakabayashi from the Iwamoto Group…”
In a warehouse of an abandoned factory, various items were scattered about. Next to a worn-out sofa sat a young bald man in a leather jacket, with black tattoos on his neck and face, making him look very fierce.
On a table nearby, five or six people were playing cards.
There was also a woman with a thick, muscular build, like a Kongo Barbie, practicing with a barbell.
Another man, bare-armed, was punching a sandbag.
“Yes, that old bastard Wakabayashi is really sticking his head in his shell.”
A executive from the Takaha Group bowed and scraped before the bald man, rubbing his hands and speaking in a low voice. “However, we’ve taken over several territories from the Iwamoto Group. It’s just… the matter with the Sunao-gumi is still a bit troublesome.”