Chapter 975: Chapter 769: Rain and Fire (Part 2)
In fact, he felt he could be worth even more...
He looked up, about to speak to Lawrence, but his movement froze in place.
The Ravens who were combing the Tanbo Inner Circle at last sent him an unexpected report...
"What’s wrong?" Lawrence looked at the stiffness on Huai Shi’s face.
Huai Shi said nothing.
He turned around.
Amid the torrential rain and thunder, flames kept flaring up in the distance, explosions booming... It was clearly raining from the sky, yet the ground seemed to have been set ablaze.
The upheaval came out of nowhere and, together with the downpour, drowned out everything.
.
When the wrecked vehicle burst through the curtain of rain and stopped at the crash site, all that could be seen was devastation.
The charred shell of the burned-out car gave off a pungent stench, and the blood, gradually thinned by the lashing rain, had long lost its original color.
The pitch-black Flying Birds folded their iron wings and settled down on the electric wires out of the rain, quietly looking down upon the ruined scene.
And upon that dying young man.
It was already too late.
In the icy rain, his disheveled blond hair clung to his pale face; he was on his last breath.
This was the cruel execution reserved for traitors.
After brutally breaking most of his limbs and inflicting the most excruciating torment, they had slit his arteries and dumped him at the crime scene, leaving him to bleed out, little by little.
In the rain, he struggled to open his eyes wide, trying to make out the figure before him that was growing more and more blurry.
"Boss... is that you..."
"It’s me, Ushijima."
Huai Shi crouched down and replied softly, "You’ve been gone a long time, so I came to look for you."
In a daze, Ushijima tried hard to lift his hand.
As if afraid that what stood before him was only a Phantom that would vanish with a blink, he futilely tried to grasp it tight.
So very tight.
"Boss, I... I didn’t betray you... I didn’t... tell them..."
The man coughed and choked, trying so hard to say what he wanted to say, but the words would no longer come. He could only breathe with difficulty, making faint sounds.
"Yeah, I know." Huai Shi nodded, gripping his hand with both of his, solemnly telling him, "I’m safe and sound, Ushijima, because you protected me."
In the silence, Ushijima paused, and a faint curve struggled to form upon his bloodless face.
He smiled.
As if he had won.
Then there was no more sound.
Only Huai Shi still held his hand, feeling the last of its warmth ebb away in the rain.
No medicine could save him; not even the Source Substance of the Iron crow could prolong a consciousness that had already unraveled...
He was dead.
Perhaps he should have died long ago; with wounds that severe, with so much life spilled, his existence had already flowed away with the blood into the rain.
The only reason he was still here was because he still had something he wanted to say to Huai Shi.
Once he said it, he left.
Not staying a moment longer.
Huai Shi lowered his head, looking at what was clenched in his palm. On the wad of paper soaked through with blood and rain, only a few faint traces of letters could still be made out.
Once, Huai Shi had told Chiba Ryouni: even saving a single person would be worth it. But now, he hadn’t even been able to save the one before him.
Until the very last moment, this man who should have been saved by him had done everything in his power to protect him.
Even at the cost of his life.
All because Huai Shi had praised his Talent, complimented his ability, spent a little time on him, and taught him some Latin he would never need...
That was all.
"I’m sorry, Ushijima-kun."
He murmured an apology. "I lied to you."
Even without me, you would certainly have become a better man. Even without giving your life, you would have had a bright Future.
In the stillness, Huai Shi carefully unfolded the crumpled paper and saw the words written on it over and over.
[Hinc itur ad astra]
"Sleep now, my friend."
Before leaving, Huai Shi looked back one last time and offered a prayer.
—May you pass through this road and go straight to the stars.
.
.
The Arakawa Family.
Though it was a night of torrential rain, everything was shrouded in a fire that seemed to stretch without end.
A sheet of crimson in which it was impossible to tell blood from flame. His chest seized up, and he no longer knew whether it was from the stench of blood or the acrid smoke.
Thunderous booms echoed from afar, and he couldn’t tell whether it was wails of agony or the roar of fire.
Arakawa bellowed with rage, raising the gun in his hand and shooting down every last man charging into the courtyard. Until, at last, the gun kicked in his hand with a hollow click; no more bullets.
He froze for a moment, then let out a mocking laugh in the rain.
Mocking himself.
All these years he’d fancied himself clever and proud, yet it had never occurred to him that in a single night he would be cast aside by everyone.
"Surrender, Family Head."
The traitors outside stepped in slowly, drawing the weapons in their hands. "We’ve served under you for so many years. Let’s part on good terms if we can."
"Part on good terms?"
Arakawa was taken aback, then couldn’t help but scoff and spit a thick gob of phlegm onto the ground.
"Kid, didn’t your former captain ever tell you... there’s only one way out of this life, and that’s death!" He bared his teeth in a scornful grin. "Come on then, take my head!"
After a brief silence, the subordinate nodded regretfully and drew the Short Knife at his waist. "In that case, forgive my discourtesy."
Five minutes later, the head of the Arakawa Family was packed into a box.
His face twisted even in death, yet showing not the slightest trace of fear or weakness.
The attackers coldly slaughtered every last survivor in the estate and then doused everything in gasoline. Before they left, they consigned it all to the flames.
The fire burned through the night.
.
"Die for me!"
Under the same torrential downpour, Akasaki Makoto roared in fury, raising his arms as his whole body turned to steel. He barreled straight through the hail of fire from dozens of assault rifles, closed the long distance, and, still in full charge, swung his arm and drove a punch forward!
The first gunman in his path had his head blown apart into a mess of pulp, followed immediately by the second, the third, the fourth... In less than thirty seconds, every roadblock had been crushed by his tempered Iron Fist.
"Mrs. Yuriko! Mrs. Yuriko, where are you?!"
Ignoring the wound in his abdomen, he staggered forward, forcing open the last door—only to be greeted by a spray of blood everywhere.
All of the attackers were dead, not a complete body among them.
And in the very center of the conference room, Ochiai Yuriko turned her head, a heavy naginata in her hand, breathing slightly hard.
Her cool face was smeared red with blood, austere and solemn.
Only at a time like this would anyone remember: the reason she was elevated as Family Head was not because of that stunning beauty, but because she was as fierce and indomitable as any man!
After her husband, the previous head of the family, died young, she had become the Ochiai Family’s ghost widow!
"Akasaki, is that you?"
She waved dismissively. "I am nothing, just a few petty thieves."
Akasaki bowed low, ashamed as he apologized. "I came too late. Please forgive me."
"Don’t waste time, Akasaki. Let’s go. There’s still so much we haven’t finished."
Ochiai Yuriko listened to the fierce gunfire outside. Then she turned back and gave an order to the sturdy women filing out of the hidden door behind her: "Everyone, prepare to meet the enemy!"
