When Yuuta’s withered hand touched Hayabusa’s shoulder, he suddenly sensed something amiss.
Katakura Hayabusa’s body was trembling slightly.
Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time he’d seen such a reaction. Occasionally, when encountering someone with an exceptionally strong will, their mental energy would produce resistance, attempting to expel the force manipulating them from their body.
That was exactly how Katakura Hayabusa was reacting now.
“Is there something you still can’t let go of, my Little Van Gogh?” he whispered into Hayabusa’s ear. “Obey me. Absolute loyalty, with no need for excessive thought. That is true happiness for you. Hurry and throw yourself into battle. Knock out every one of those who resist me.”
But suddenly, Yuuta saw Hayabusa grinning, an expression like a cunning wolf in the wilderness.
The younger man’s hand immediately clenched the older one’s in a death grip. Katakura Hayabusa’s previously dazed expression instantly twisted into something ferocious.
“Old Man, got you!”
“What? My technique—how could it possibly be broken?”
“Go to hell, Old Man!”
His free hand curled into a fist, bones cracking ominously. Hayabusa then fiercely swung his fist, striking at Yuuta’s face like a tidal wave, like some kind of boxing machine.
Yuuta tried to break free from Hayabusa’s grip, but Hayabusa spoke.
“Come on, Father and son, reunited after so long apart. Shouldn’t we hold each other’s hands tightly and share some affection? Old Man, why are you suddenly trying to run away?”
The nose caved deep into the face, and blood spurted out.
No matter how elegant and gentlemanly a person was, once beaten black and blue, they became a wretched mess.
“Brat, don’t get cocky!”
The pain seemed to tear apart Yuuta’s reason as well.
His voice suddenly exploded in volume. His purple-tinged lips quivered, and veins bulged angrily on his temples.
To break free, Yuuta’s other arm, transformed into a blade, slashed toward Katakura Hayabusa’s body. The blade-arm, brimming with killing intent, was about to cleave his own flesh and blood in two.
“Look out!”
Katakura Hayabusa was about to be decapitated.
In desperation, Gao Sijin roared a warning. Yu Qingxue lunged forward in a single stride, directly severing the blade-arm with her tachi. Instantly, blood gushed like a fountain, a crimson spring flowing across the red carpet of the entire hall.
“Aaaaaaaarrrrgggghhh!”
The searing pain made Katakura Yuuta involuntarily wail in agony. Following the line of the severed limb, one could see the stark white bone.
“To think the Middle-Aged Man who loves Schubert’s piano pieces could produce such an earsplitting shriek. This sound truly lacks all aesthetic sense. Don’t you agree, Gao-kun?”
Tsukiyuki Rio, moving like a dancer in her geta, slowly walked across the hall, holding Gao Sijin’s hand.
It was the first time in his life he had witnessed such a bloody scene.
Gao Sijin was pale and felt nauseous, wanting to vomit, but his eyes did not avert themselves out of fear. Instead, they stared intently at the severed arm. For some reason, an inexplicable feeling of catharsis arose within his heart.
The two black wolfhounds saw the severed arm and began gnawing at it as if they had found a priceless treasure.
“Hey, you dog beasts, that’s my arm! I used these hands to feed you so much delicious meat… Aaaaaarrrgghh!”
Pain slurred Yuuta’s words.
His front teeth had been broken by Hayabusa’s punch, making his speech leak air.
His initial elegance vanished completely under absolute violence. He wanted to bite the hand Hayabusa had clamped around his own, but Hayabusa refused to let go, no matter what.
“Stop struggling, Old Man. Just resign yourself and die. That eyeball of yours, murky as a corpse’s, I’ve wanted to dig it out for ages. Damn it, my fist is going to reek of old man stench!”
His fists pummeled relentlessly like a violent storm, even the skin of his knuckles seeping blood from sheer force. Hayabusa had rubbed the skin raw from punching too hard.
“It hurts so much, punching your face makes my fist hurt. Old Man, shouldn’t you pay my medical bills? Nah, I’m magnanimous. I’ll forgive you.”
Yuuta glared at Hayabusa. Releasing his Secret Technique was useless. The arm that could transform into a blade had been severed. His agile movements lost their effectiveness once Hayabusa seized his hand. He kicked Hayabusa with both legs, but Hayabusa showed no sign of loosening his grip for the pain.
Could this feeling be… fear?
Don’t you mock me! I am the Wolf of the Human World, a magnificent hunter.
“L-l… g-g… d-die… d-d-die…”
“Huh? Old Man, what did you say?”
Yuuta spat a glob of bloody phlegm onto Hayabusa’s face.
“You’ve really got some backbone, Old Man.”
Immediately after, another barrage of fists greeted his face.
The Human Trafficker Middle-Aged Man was finally knocked down by a single punch, his eyes dyed red with blood.
His consciousness was on the verge of fading. The sounds he managed to push from his throat sounded like a hollow flute. Tears could even be seen at the corners of his eyes.
“…Save me… whoever’s there… hurry…”
“Old Man, up until now, many people have screamed those exact same words at you.”
“Don’t… kill me…”
Katakura Hayabusa sat atop Yuuta. His two powerful hands clamped around Yuuta’s throat like pincers, tightening and relaxing intermittently, ensuring he wasn’t strangled to death outright but leaving him just enough room to gasp for air.
“The moment I caught you off guard, you became this pathetic. You’re just too old, my Schubert.”
Next, Katakura Hayabusa intended to beat him into a pulp of bloody meat with his bare fists.
Forgiving him was impossible.
Aunt Keiko had been sold to cannibals in Africa and eaten alive as a sacrifice.
His younger sister Kazue had lived an inhuman life because of the Old Man.
If he hadn’t dared to come today, his girlfriend’s little sister would have met a similar disaster.
It was all because of this Damn Old Man. He had to die.
—Stop. Please, don’t kill him.
Suddenly, a woman’s voice reached Katakura Hayabusa’s ears.
But it didn’t feel like sound. Rather, another person’s consciousness had suddenly intruded into his thoughts.
“Aunt Keiko?”
Katakura Hayabusa looked left and right, faintly making out a blurry figure dressed in crimson.
The kindly and adorable Aunt Keiko was smiling gently.
“Aunt Keiko, I live to kill this Old Man. Even if you plead for him, I won’t forgive him.”
The translucent woman shook her head.
—Please, let us take revenge on him ourselves.
“Ah, you’re right. There are plenty of people who hate this Old Man even more than I do. Aunt Keiko, thank you for helping me break the Old Man’s Secret Technique.”
Katakura Hayabusa dusted himself off and stood up.
He gazed down at the Old Man with contempt, then bound his body with a rope, deliberately folding him into the shape of a drawn bow. One end of the rope was pulled tightly around his neck, while the other end bound his four limbs together.
Whenever Yuuta tried to move his limbs, the end around his neck would strangle him tighter. Now, the Old Man was left with only the faintest of breaths, like a dead dog.
“Can I really leave him to Aunt Keiko and the others?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, within this clean and tidy underground space, many creatures suddenly appeared: mice, spiders, mantises, venomous snakes, scorpions, mealworms, leeches, and many more. They swarmed as one toward the barely-breathing Katakura Yuuta lying on the ground, opening their feeding organs…
