Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 414: God’s Downfall (6)

Dragon Raja 3

The customer was clearly ready to declare victory. Caesar grew visibly anxious—if he lost one more hand, he’d be down to just his underwear. With ten minutes left, how could he hold out?

This was like the Sasanian Empire’s last stand against Byzantium, driven to the banks of the Tigris River. The Sasanian emperor rallied his people, declaring, “We cannot retreat another step! One more step and we face annihilation!” Of course, that was a given—they were already at the riverbank. The Sasanians fell nonetheless, and Caesar, too, would struggle to survive with only his underwear.

In this desperate moment, Chu Zihang played a tile—a nine of wan.

The customer picked it up, completed her set, and declared victory, slamming her tiles onto the table.

Lu Mingfei was both exasperated and furious. Senior Brother, can’t you count tiles? There was clearly someone holding two nines of wan, just waiting to win. How could you play that?

Chu Zihang, unfazed, accepted his loss. He removed his belt and placed it on the table, then began reshuffling tiles. Lu Mingfei noticed that Chu Zihang had another nine of wan in his hand—he had broken up his own set.

It suddenly dawned on him: Chu Zihang still had several pieces of clothing left to lose, but Caesar was already on his last garment. Chu Zihang was willing to take the fall to protect Caesar. Such loyalty! A simple act of aid, yet one of profound solidarity.

Even Caesar was moved, realizing his rival had stepped up in his moment of need.

At that moment, a waiter stumbled into the room.

“Can’t you see there’s a guest here? What could possibly justify interrupting?” Caesar asked, though inwardly pleased at the delay this caused.

“Your faces have appeared on the billboard outside!” the waiter exclaimed in shock. “I asked the manager, and he said the store hasn’t run any advertisements.”

Caesar froze, then his expression shifted dramatically. He bolted out the door, only to realize he’d forgotten his clothes. Returning quickly, he grabbed them. Chu Zihang, meanwhile, had already redressed, looking as pristine as if nothing had ever been removed.

“Hey! As staff, you need to follow the house rules!” Finger shouted, his exposed muscles gleaming.

“Put your clothes back on! Something’s wrong!” Lu Mingfei jabbed him in the waist. “What’s more important, the rules or your life?”

Finger was still immersed in the thrill of strip mahjong. Today’s guest exuded a mature and seductive charm, which distracted him from a critical question: why were their faces suddenly appearing on a billboard when they were supposed to be hiding in Takamagahara?

There was only one man in the world who always operated in secret but still made billboard appearances—his name was James Bond. For anyone else, it could only mean one thing: their whereabouts had been compromised.

The dance floor on the first floor was eerily empty, void of any patrons. These days, nightlife venues closed early. No matter how much people loved the neon-lit debauchery, nobody wanted to stagger home drunk in the rain.

Caesar pushed open the door and stepped out onto a commercial street known as The City That Never Sleeps. A torrential downpour battered the streets, turning the roads into rushing rivers. Each of them held large umbrellas, the rain drumming against them with a constant pitter-patter.

To their surprise, all the shops on this street were closed, except for Takamagahara’s neon sign, which still flickered in red and purple hues against the black backdrop. The accumulated rainwater quickly rose above their ankles. Caesar stood on the sidewalk, scanning his surroundings.

The street was desolate from end to end, but it felt as though an imminent danger was about to descend. Caesar couldn’t tell from which direction it would strike, what form it would take, or even where to flee.

“Where’s the billboard you mentioned?” Caesar asked gravely.

“Look up. They’re everywhere. They were lit up just now,” the waiter replied.

A pale blue glow shimmered on the water’s surface. As the rain struck, ripples spread out like radiant blossoms, blooming in clusters.

They looked up. Across the street, atop a tall building, a massive billboard screen lit up, casting a bluish hue over the wet pavement.

On a rose-colored background, Caesar’s face appeared first, followed by Chu Zihang’s, and then Lu Mingfei’s. Beside each portrait were details such as their nicknames, ages, heights, blood types, hobbies, time of entry into the industry, quirks, and Takamagahara’s address, along with a call for Tokyo’s elite ladies to pay a visit.

Finally, Kazama Ruri’s face appeared on the screen—obviously a candid shot. Yet, even in a casual glance over his shoulder, his gaze and smile radiated a deadly allure. Of course, that was back when he was still Kazama Ruri.

“Why am I not on there?” Finger asked, a bit disappointed. “Are they looking down on newcomers?”

“Not being on a wanted poster is a good thing, bro,” Lu Mingfei sighed.

This was perhaps the most extravagant advertisement for host clubs in Tokyo’s history. Anyone in Shinjuku who was still awake could simply open their window and see their faces flaunted across the night sky. From the east to the west of The City That Never Sleeps, the streets lit up section by section as hundreds of giant billboards displayed the ad, like countless mirrors reflecting each other, filling the world with their faces.

Chu Zihang silently drew his blade, sweeping it through the rain in a graceful arc. Finger instinctively stepped aside, knowing Chu Zihang never unsheathed his sword without intent. When he did, it meant someone was about to be cut down. But there was no one around—yet.

“Soon, this place will be swarming with people. Lu Mingfei, take Finger back into Takamagahara,” Caesar ordered softly. “You two are in charge of guarding Chime.”

The rain curtain around him trembled, the vibrations rippling outward as he unleashed Kamaitachi, forming an invisible field.

He stood in the middle of the street, his twin pistols aimed in both directions, safety switches off.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” Finger still hadn’t caught on.

The killing intent had already descended. Even Lu Mingfei could hear the engines roaring in the distance, growing closer by the second.

“It’s like an army,” Chu Zihang muttered.

“I can hear engine roars, tires screeching against pavement, frantic heartbeats, and guns being loaded… It is an army,” Caesar confirmed, focusing on the fragmented sounds relayed through Kamaitachi.

The wind whipped through the streets, rippling the pools of water. A black helicopter descended from the sky, its glaring spotlight locking onto them.

“Tokyo Metropolitan Police? Or the Yamata no Orochi clan?” Chu Zihang asked.

“Do you even need to ask? The Yamata no Orochi clan would never let Chime fall into the hands of the police. They’d make sure to arrive first. And considering they’ve deployed helicopters, do you think government agencies move this efficiently?” Caesar replied.

Suddenly, beams of light pierced through the storm from all directions, illuminating Caesar and Chu Zihang’s brows in silvery tones.

The wind howled between the skyscrapers, like demons and ghosts roaming the city. Even though Lu Mingfei was hiding behind the door, his heart felt as if it might burst out of his chest.

The Yamata no Orochi clan wouldn’t deploy such a massive force just for them. Their true target was Chime. In their eyes, he was a monster—someone they wouldn’t dare face alone.

But could they hand Chime over to the Yamata no Orochi clan? Maybe when he was still Kazama Ruri, but now he was just the timid boy from years ago, so frightened that even an alarm clock’s sound could make him tremble.

No one could predict the outcome of a negotiation. Today’s Chisei was no longer the turtle who constantly sought to escape Japan. With Tachibana Masamune dead, he sat alone on the throne of Japan’s underworld, burdened by the great mission of his family.

“Senior, here’s your tempura and miso soup.” The waiter who went out for supper pushed the door open, puzzled to find Lu Mingfei and Finger huddled nervously behind it.

“Ah! Perfect timing!” Finger grabbed the plastic bag.

“Dude! Your foodie soul still burns bright at a time like this?” Lu Mingfei was in awe.

“What else can I do to stay calm? I know this isn’t the time to eat, but if some pretty girl wanted to help me repopulate humanity right now, I’d gladly put down my food. But since we’re in a host club with nothing but flamboyant men… eating’s all I’ve got,” Finger retorted, munching on tempura.

Meanwhile, Fūma Kōtarō strode into Chisei’s office. Despite the “Kōtarō” in his name, he was actually the most senior of all the clan heads—a living relic among ninjas.

Chisei was preparing to leave. The helicopter had already landed on the rooftop platform, and their destination was a red well near the Tama River. Thirty minutes earlier, Shio’s report had landed on his desk, but the family had been caught off guard with no helicopters ready to deploy.

The Kanto branch had tampered with the fuel valves; the first aircraft had caught fire and crashed right after takeoff, and the other two were found to have similar issues during inspections. Chisei had no choice but to wait for helicopters to be dispatched from elsewhere.

“They’ve located your younger brother.” Fūma Kōtarō’s words were always succinct. “He’s hiding in Shinjuku, in a host club, together with people from Cassell College.”