Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 185: Girl with Sandalwood Scent (17)

Dragon Raja 3

Behind him, countless headlights formed a bright wall of light. The earlier gunshots had drawn the entire gang of bōsōzoku to the freight passage outside, and now their glowing lights resembled the eyes of monsters.

The rider pulled back on the throttle, launching the motorcycle into the air. Clearly trained in swordsmanship, he slashed downward mid-air, employing a cavalry technique called “Jumping Horse Cut.” While slicing toward Chu Zihang, he aimed to ram Caesar with the weight of both his motorcycle and himself, totaling hundreds of kilograms. A collision would almost certainly result in broken bones.

The black blade arced upward, and Chu Zihang slightly sidestepped, effortlessly countering with a Gyaku-Kesa cut from Japanese swordsmanship. The bōsōzoku’s blade and front wheel were split in two, and the motorcycle crashed to the ground like a horse tripping over its own hooves. Chu Zihang then delivered a powerful knee strike to the bōsōzoku’s abdomen, sending him flying several meters away. His violent side had surfaced, and he was no longer holding back. Caesar didn’t even bother moving, calmly collecting more shotgun shells. If Chu Zihang couldn’t handle such a small fry, he had no business being at Cassell College.

More motorcycles charged forward, their riders revving their engines furiously, like a herd of enraged bulls.

Caesar drew two short-barreled shotguns from his waist. These old-fashioned shotguns could only hold two rounds each—powerful, but with shortened barrels, the trajectory was erratic. Not as precise as the MP7s or Berettas, but Caesar hesitated to use military-grade weapons. For people like him and Chu Zihang, holding such weapons was akin to wielding the scythe of death itself, and these reckless boys were just rushing into the blades.

“Don’t clash with these maniacs! Retreat the way we came!” Caesar fired both shotguns at once, blowing out the front wheel of a motorcycle.

Before the gunfire erupted in the hall, the boys in the corridor had surrounded the hottest female server, groping her. In a corner, Makoto sat with her hands over her ears, unable to do anything but try not to listen to the girl’s cries. Her limbs were cold, her lips turning purple as her heart raced irregularly.

She had always been the timid type, despite her tall, graceful figure. Whenever there was thunder or rain, she would curl up under the covers clutching a large stuffed animal. Before working at the toy store, she rarely went out at night, always fearing that someone was following her on the silent streets. On her first day working at this internet café, she’d made a fool of herself—when a customer casually touched her arm while getting his shoes shined, she thought he was trying to assault her. Terrified, she couldn’t even scream as her irregular heartbeat triggered an episode, and she fainted on the spot. Luckily, the customer was a medical school graduate, and after calling for the manager to bring the first-aid kit, he administered nitroglycerin pills and massaged her heart for fifteen minutes until she regained consciousness.

But whenever Caesar and his companions were around, Makoto found herself unusually brave—braver than she’d ever thought possible.

She really did like Caesar, and of course, the first reason was his tall, handsome appearance and his polite demeanor. But another reason that made Makoto’s heart flutter was Caesar’s pride. It was a kind of imperial pride, completely unattainable for commoners, a “my will is justice” kind of pride.

When Caesar was around, she wasn’t afraid of these violent and brutal boys at all. But now, without him, these boys felt like devils surrounding her, tearing at another girl’s clothes as if preparing to feast on her. Once they were done with that girl, they would come for her. Makoto was so scared she was on the verge of tears, regretting that she had separated from Caesar. If only Caesar were here, he would have knocked these boys down with his fierce punches. Every girl fantasizes about a prince on a white horse, and Asou Makoto was no exception. She had grown up with her grandmother, in a household that was not well off, and had been bullied a lot. At school, she always walked with her head down and never dared report to the teacher when harassed by older students. Others lived in a colorful world, but hers was always clouded with gloom. The prince she longed for would have to be like the blazing sun, because only the sun could dispel the shadows.

Suddenly, gunshots erupted, and the sound of hurried footsteps drew closer. Then, with a fierce punch, one of the boys clinging to the girl’s legs was knocked out… Caesar had seemingly answered her call, returning like a whirlwind!

Chu Zihang used the hilt of his sword to strike the back of the boys’ necks. Lu Mingfei, lacking a proper weapon, took off his high heels and rushed to smash one over another boy’s head. If they didn’t care about making noise, the three of them could easily take down a few bōsōzoku.

“Caesar!” Makoto excitedly called out his name, which she had repeated in her mind so many times that it now came out effortlessly.

Chu Zihang was momentarily surprised by the intimacy of the name. Clearly, it was only used by someone close. Lu Mingfei called Caesar “boss,” but in Japan, only Chu Zihang himself would normally call him “Caesar.” He recognized Makoto and swiftly tackled her to the ground.

The roar of engines descended from above, and a shadow loomed over Chu Zihang and Makoto’s heads. Makoto, too overjoyed at Caesar’s appearance, hadn’t noticed that these were not heroes come to rescue her at her call, but more bōsōzoku forced into the hallway. Blinding lights chased them from behind, and the lead bōsōzoku lifted the front wheel of his motorcycle, aiming it straight at Makoto. Caesar grabbed a monitor and smashed it into the boy’s face. The boy, along with his motorcycle, fell backward, blood covering his face.

Caesar stomped on the still-revving motorcycle to prevent it from harming the girls behind him, while Chu Zihang leapt up, firing the short-barreled shotgun repeatedly, collapsing the tatami mat in front of them. The second motorcycle crashed right into the hole.

The two motorcycles created a small barrier, blocking the rest of the bōsōzoku from charging forward.

While Lu Mingfei hurried the girls out of the hallway, Caesar and Chu Zihang provided covering fire. They didn’t bother reloading; with seven or eight short-barreled shotguns strapped to their waists, they just tossed the empty ones aside and grabbed fresh ones. The dense barrage of bullets slowed the bōsōzoku’s momentum, forcing them to lift their front wheels and use the bike frames as shields. Caesar and Chu Zihang weren’t shooting directly at them, as a direct hit with the buckshot would be lethal. Instead, they fired at the walls, letting the ricocheting pellets strike the motorcycles, producing a series of “ping” sounds.

“Retreat!” Lu Mingfei shouted, closing the emergency door at the end of the hallway.

With the girls evacuated, Caesar tossed aside his empty shotgun and drew his Beretta. He fired several rounds into the gas tank of one of the motorcycles. Flames shot into the sky as he and Chu Zihang ran for the hallway’s exit.

Just as Caesar burst out of the hallway, the pursuing bōsōzoku arrived. These boys, hyped up on adrenaline, fearlessly maneuvered their motorcycles through the fire. Chu Zihang slammed the door shut, catching one rider’s face with it. The dirt bike got wedged in the door, and Caesar pulled it out with one hand, while Chu Zihang closed the second half of the door. Caesar twisted the lock, and Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei slid the top and bottom bolts into place. The three of them leaned against the door, panting heavily. Normally, this level of exertion was nothing for Caesar and Chu Zihang, but they were both extremely hungry. Lu Mingfei was doing a bit better—at least he had ramen and boiled eggs in his stomach—but even on a good day, running would leave him this winded.

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