Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 186: Girl with Sandalwood Scent (18)

Dragon Raja 3

The emergency door rattled as motorcycles rammed into it from the other side. There were even loud knocking sounds. These boys’ brains must’ve been fried—who knocks on a door like this expecting someone to answer?

Without a second thought, Caesar stabbed his Dictator into the door. The blade went in four inches, with an inch protruding on the other side after accounting for the door’s three-inch thickness. When Caesar pulled the knife back, the tip was stained with blood—some idiot must have had his hand stabbed. Engines roared all around, and motorcycles rampaged through the internet café. They were now surrounded by what felt like a hundred riders. A hundred might not sound like much, but in this situation, it felt like there was no escape—no way out.

Caesar reloaded the remaining short-barreled shotguns. “Surrendering obviously isn’t our option, right?”

“Surrendering definitely isn’t something you or Senior Brother would do, but for someone without much dignity, there’s always the saying, ‘A wise man knows when to retreat,’” Lu Mingfei muttered, his leg shaking like a plucked guitar string.

“If they’re intent on killing us, using force should be justified,” Chu Zihang said coldly.

Lu Mingfei knew exactly what the killer in Chu Zihang was thinking, and the other two were probably thinking the same thing. However, using King’s Blaze was too destructive, and it was hard to guarantee that bystanders who were caught up in the gang’s schemes wouldn’t get hurt. Not every one of these boys was necessarily a hardened criminal.

“Aren’t you heading for the changing room? It’s just up ahead,” Makoto chimed in.

“Hello, Chu Zihang, we’ve met before,” Chu Zihang awkwardly extended his hand, much like Lu Mingfei had when they first met Makoto. It felt like soldiers in the trenches exchanging greetings.

“Eva said the changing room was through that hallway,” Caesar replied.

“The hallway over there does lead to the changing room, but this way works too,” Makoto said. “The only reason we couldn’t get through earlier was that the bōsōzoku blocked it.”

Caesar let out a sharp whistle, but before he could say anything, the wall behind them, along with the security door, suddenly collapsed! A massive four-meter-high front-end loader burst through the dust, roaring as it crashed forward at 30 to 40 kilometers per hour. The enormous bucket was raised high in the air, its iron teeth gleaming from years of wear against gravel. Chu Zihang quickly yanked Lu Mingfei out from under the iron teeth, and Caesar grabbed Makoto, tossing her aside as he leapt backward, firing his MP7. The raised bucket shielded the driver’s cab, and bullets sparked harmlessly off the giant machine—their regular ammo couldn’t penetrate such heavy equipment.

Berettas, MP7s, front-end loaders… the bōsōzoku were deploying increasingly dangerous gear. This wasn’t just a simple gang vendetta—this was a coordinated military operation.

“Run!” Caesar shouted.

The four of them bolted, not daring to look back. The loader spewed thick black smoke as it pursued them. Rooms, walls, and sliding doors crumbled under the loader’s teeth, and dense dust rolled down the hallway. The bright beams of the loader’s headlights cut through the smoke, illuminating Caesar and his group’s retreat. Up ahead was another security door, and beyond it, the roar of motorcycles echoed. They were trapped—there was no time for Chu Zihang to unleash King’s Blaze. If they didn’t do something, they’d be crushed alive against the wall by the loader.

Caesar abruptly stopped, turning to face the massive machine tearing through the dust. He made a decision—he would gamble. He planned to use his enhanced jump to reach the top of the loader and take out the driver.

Just then, someone grabbed his arm, dragging him into the darkness. The loader roared past, barely missing his face, leaving the two-meter-wide hallway reduced to a three or four-meter-wide pile of rubble.

A delicate hand covered Caesar’s mouth to keep him from making a sound, and he caught a faint whiff of Makoto’s familiar scent.

“The loader can’t see us. The bucket’s blocking the driver’s view, and he’s just charging forward blindly,” Makoto whispered.

Caesar realized she was right. The bōsōzoku driver had raised the bucket to shield himself from bullets, but that had also rendered him blind. Sure enough, the loader continued forward, with the bōsōzoku following, firing their guns as they searched the debris. They assumed Caesar and his group were already crushed beneath the rubble.

Makoto led Caesar’s team through a narrow service passage that only allowed them to squeeze through sideways. It was a typical Japanese design—staff passages were always hidden in corners or behind secret doors to avoid employees running into customers in the hallways. At the end of the passage was the changing room. Compared to the refined, small cubicles, the changing room was downright shabby—bordering on dilapidated. The air was stuffy, with yellow stains covering the walls, wooden benches rotted away, and the rusted-out shower stalls clouded with steam. Rows of iron lockers stood in the mist. Young girls would change into their sultry, tight-fitting qipaos here and emerge through hidden staff doors, all smiles and batting eyes, to greet the customers. Caesar felt a slight twinge of emotion.

Chu Zihang pressed his ear to the wall. “There’s the sound of running water. Looks like Eva’s intel was correct. The drainage pipe from the Turkish bath is behind this wall.”

Caesar scanned the room but didn’t see any tools they could use. That didn’t stop him, though. He gathered his strength and kicked the water-stained wall hard. The wall collapsed with a loud crash, revealing a drainage pipe about two feet in diameter. Chu Zihang touched the pipe’s surface—it was about 40 degrees Celsius. It was indeed the drainage pipe for the Turkish bath, carrying used bathwater down into the ground.

“Shit! You want me to crawl through used bathwater?” Caesar grimaced.

“That’s the least of our worries. The real issue is that we don’t have tools to break open the pipe,” Chu Zihang said.

“What about King’s Blaze?”

“The explosive force is too hard to control. This old building could collapse if we use it.”

“Then we’ll use the gunpowder from the bullets to blow it open at the base. We’ll need about 50 handgun rounds worth of powder.” Caesar started removing the magazine from his Beretta. Compared to the buckshot or MP7 rounds, the Parabellum rounds had more gunpowder.

“We don’t have anything to use as a fuse,” Chu Zihang pointed out.

“I’ve got this.” Caesar pulled out a crumpled pack of “Mild Seven” cigarettes from his pocket, wrapped in an ad flyer. He hadn’t had the heart to throw away the cigarette, even after the grumpy old lady had given him a dirty look when he bought it. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he muttered.

While Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang pried open the bullets, Caesar worked on setting up the simple bomb. He had learned this skill from hunters in East Africa—using the powder from bullets to make a small bomb capable of scaring away rhinos.

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