Chapter 109
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Was It Something Like That?
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"Finally ready?"
[That's why I called you, ain't it?]
"You're later than I expected. I was starting to think mold had grown on you."
[Don't be so harsh. That Wang bastard or Wing or whatever clung to me like glue—what was I supposed to do?]
Whether Ryu Gangcheol grumbled or not.
The man with the braided hair paid him no mind.
He simply gazed out the window and spoke calmly.
"Enough excuses. Just make sure you're prepared properly. If you screw up again and things go sideways, your idiot comrade will foot the bill."
[You do your part right, Comrade Commander. There won't be a third chance.]
"Think I don't know what your idiot ass knows? Some fools just can't be helped, even in death."
[That's too much, even for a comrade risking his neck!]
"What's too much about it? Everyone 'up top' knows your life's dirt cheap anyway."
[Even if it's true, there's a line!]
Ryu Gangcheol bristled but offered no real rebuttal to his own bargain-basement bounty.
The man suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, and contact the crazy comrade too."
[Why make me your errand boy again?]
"Because the crazy one's not the type to follow orders just because you say so once. Someone's gotta nudge him."
[So you want me playing messenger on top of everything?]
"Isn't that right up your alley? All brawn, no brains, overflowing labor."
[What am I, some proletarian drone?!]
"If it bugs you that much, mutiny."
The man hung up abruptly.
For all his tough talk, he didn't actually think Ryu Gangcheol would shirk his duty.
It wasn't trust in his character.
Nor faith in their solidarity.
Their organization, the Liberation Brigade, was a nest of lunatics, murderers, and criminals from the start.
Still, he trusted one thing.
If they botched this mission, those 'above' wouldn't let it slide—and they both knew it.
"This'll be one hell of a show."
So the man smiled.
Anticipating the historic spectacle about to unfold.
The Shanghai Wang Clan.
The lowliest noble house in the Black Dragon Clan.
They drew plenty of sneers for their bottom-rung status, but true to their noble blood, the Shanghai Wang Clan's power was no joke.
Proof of that lay in their Martial Force Unit.
The Seven Dragon Society's elite enforcers, composed entirely of masters rivaling high-level Players.
True masters were rare even in the Seven Dragon Society.
Assembling a whole unit of them required exceptional martial heritage and vast wealth—privileges only a top-tier house could claim.
"Don't let your guard down. Not for a second."
That's why, at this moment.
The unit's members were on high alert.
Even without the princess's personal commendation, they were the Shanghai Wang Clan's Martial Force Unit.
Their pride was in executing Captain Wang Lun's orders to the letter—even if it meant groveling like bugs on command.
"He's the beast who mauled Vice Captain, a high-ranking Liberation Brigade officer with a notorious rep."
Above all, they had every reason to stay razor-sharp.
One: their mission.
Two: the hulking truck behind them.
Three: Ryu Gangcheol inside, meridians sealed, shackled in restraints.
Four: They'd all witnessed the Black Dragon Construction massacre, plus Wang Qixing's mangled corpse.
"Our house's fate rides on this escort. Give it everything you've got."
The vice captain's gruesome death.
The clan's precarious position.
Captain Wang Lun's stern demeanor.
He scanned the unit, their auras sharp as blades for their own reasons.
Then barked the order in a booming voice.
"Move out!"
One armored escort truck.
One tactical vehicle with a mounted machine gun.
Six bulletproof SUVs carrying the Martial Force Unit.
Eight vehicles total, 31 souls including the unit and Ryu Gangcheol, rolled out from Black Dragon Construction HQ.
Majestic.
A convoy radiating "make way or get crushed."
'Come on, any takers!'
'We'll crush you for the Shanghai Wang Clan's honor!'
Their bravado showcased Wang Qixing's meticulous prep—or rather, Wang Lun's, given context.
If ambushed.
If they lost Ryu Gangcheol.
The fallout for the Shanghai Wang Clan would be catastrophic.
Wang Lun knew it best, so he'd spared no resources.
Thirty elite masters could clash head-on with a major guild.
Even against the infamous global crime syndicate Liberation Brigade, breaking this convoy to snatch Ryu seemed impossible.
At least, that's what the unit believed without doubt.
Boom!!!
"What the—?!"
"Vehicle 1...?!"
Sudden deafening roar—the lead SUV flipped end over end.
"Who dares—gah!!"
Comrades leaped out like grasshoppers, only for a black shadow to flash by, smashing them into the pavement.
Thud!
The inverted SUV crashed down late, and atop it landed the shadow gracefully.
No—a figure draped in pitch-black robes blocked the convoy.
"Ambush!"
[Vehicles 2, 3, 4—battle stations! 5 and 6, escort Owl's Nest and Hawk—break off!]
Expected or just elite training?
They reacted swiftly despite the shock.
Three SUVs disgorged warriors who formed ranks encircling the figure.
Meanwhile, the truck and others executed flawless spin turns, peeling off in reverse.
Textbook precision.
Any onlooker might mistake it for a staged show or movie set.
But this was no show.
And the cloaked fiend didn't let the convoy escape like some cinematic villain.
Flick.
"This bastard!"
"What's he doing? Taunting us to come at him...?"
The black cloth—rag or cape?—billowed, revealing a bandaged hand slipping out.
Two fingers extended.
Flicked upward.
The encircling unit took it as provocation and charged.
Kaboom!!!
"...?!?!"
So they reeled in horror moments later.
Right after the flick.
Two departing SUVs leaped like frogs.
Crash! Boom! Kaboom!
Bouncing like rubber balls, they slammed into the tactical vehicle, tumbling together.
Controlling two massive rigs with mere finger points—utterly uncanny.
Chilling power.
But the unit's shock went deeper than raw threat.
'Psychokinesis!'
'That power—Gold Dragon Clan?'
'No psyonic aura, though... then what?!'
Judgment instant.
When the figure pointed at the last escort vehicle.
They countered like lightning.
"Player with psychokinesis skills!"
"Close the gap! Don't give him casting room!"
"Three-Headed Arrow Formation—deploy!"
Three hurled bone-piercing nails to pin movement.
Three charged from front and flanks, swords raised.
Three prepped follow-ups from rear and sides.
Three fell back as reserves against rear attacks.
Synchronized the instant the figure moved—no flaws.
Positions, weapons, stances, breaths, psyonic flows.
All synced for one perfect kill machine.
'This ends it!'
They were certain.
No high-level Player escaped the Three-Headed Arrow.
20 exchanges: pierce him.
50: sever limbs.
100: end him.
Slash!
"...Huh?"
Figure whipped the cloth.
Nails clattered harmlessly.
Fingers flicked.
Their twelve swords snapped mid-swing, as if sliced.
But that was just the opener.
"Gah?!"
"Urk!!!"
Each flick twisted limbs or hurled bodies.
They fought full-tilt.
Futile.
No tells, no delay—fingers alone halted and flung them.
Turning desperate struggle to mere thrashing.
Weapons lost in 2 exchanges.
Scattered in 5.
Finished in 10.
In breaths for a normal man.
No warriors stood on two legs.
Foaming unconscious or writhing in shattered agony—street ward patients.
Bang!
"You—halt!"
Door mangled or ripped clean—Captain Wang Lun leaped out.
Horrified by the unit's wipeout in blinks, he charged with a lightning kick.
Whoosh!
Shredding ground to air with crushing pressure—a grinder, not a kick.
Kaboom!
"Guh?!"
Result unchanged.
Pre-impact flick lofted Wang Lun into the tactical vehicle.
Difference from his men: one glimpse of flash.
Saw or not.
Down in seconds.
The few conscious gasped, eyes bulging.
'H-how is this monster real...!'
Unbelievable.
Even bottom-rung noble house, they were Martial Force Unit.
They'd hold against top Players, win or lose.
Yet one man smashed them.
And felled Wang Lun—heir to Chain Soul Leg Style, captain-level master—in one shot.
Nightmare fuel.
Whether they gaped in horror or not, the figure ignored them.
Just flicked toward the escort truck.
Crunch! Rrrrip!
Blocked by wrecks, doors, roof, sides tore free.
Inside: restraints-clad Ryu Gangcheol, alone.
The figure approached slowly.
"Uh, comrade? Comrade? Looks like you came to spring me—thanks, but easy does it..."
Slash.
"...!?!?!"
Instant.
Flick.
Ryu's head tumbled.
Fountain of blood painted everything red.
The unit gawked anew, jaws slack.
The figure flexed his hand, glanced down.
Confirming something.
Or dissatisfied.
Black-gleaming eyes on the head a moment.
"...So that's how it was."
Splat!
Muttered low.
Another flick shredded the corpse.
Then he vaulted skyward.
Vanishing into the skyscrapers like winged prey.
The survivors watched his afterimage, dazed and defeated.