Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 196: Girl with Sandalwood Scent (28)

Dragon Raja 3

The call ended. Monkey face sat there, dazed, letting the phone slip from his grasp. Caesar, holding his gun, walked through the rain—steady, unhurried. He fired six shots in total, blowing out the rear tires of all three box trucks.

The drivers, still desperately pressing on the gas pedals, hoped their flat-tired vehicles could manage a few more kilometers, just enough to escape the man who seemed like a god of death behind them. But Monkey face yanked the key out of the ignition.

“Stop dreaming! Either we kill him today, or he kills us. If we kill him, we get everything: money, women, the best drugs. I’ll take you to Shinjuku, and we’ll have different women every day!” Monkey face grabbed one of his subordinates by the collar, his face twisted beyond recognition.

The cargo hold opened, and beams of light shot out simultaneously. The beasts roared as they were unleashed.

The Akazonae launched their final assault. Each of them had injected excessive doses of drugs and LSD. Their adrenaline rushed, suppressing all fear. They mounted their motorcycles, blaring deafening heavy metal music, and charged forward.

Caesar closed his eyes as the Desert Eagles roared like thunder.

Kamaitachi activated, its domain expanding—further, and further.

The modified Desert Eagles fired rapidly, sending out a rain of bullets. Once the gang members entered Kamaitachi’s range, they were within Caesar’s exclusive battlefield. The tide of motorcycles clashed head-on with the storm of bullets. Shots tore through fuel tanks, snapped axles, and shredded wheels, sending sparks flying. One after another, the heavy motorcycles toppled into the rain-soaked street, catching fire and exploding. The boys rolled to the ground, wailing like banshees. Caesar fired mechanically, his face emotionless—neither joyful nor enraged.

The Akazonae had hoped their group charge would force Caesar to abandon his position. They had always been arrogant, undefeated, roaring into battle with heavy metal blaring and blades on the back of their bikes, fueled by testosterone, believing everything in front of them would be crushed under their wheels. The police had never dared to shoot at them, hiding behind their squad cars, shouting futile warnings because these were just “young people” who society should forgive for their mischief. The Akazonae would simply laugh, driving their motorcycles over the police cars, spinning around and speeding off into the night.

But today, they were met with absolute violence. The Desert Eagles spewed fire coldly, and the Akazonae fell one by one, while Caesar didn’t retreat a single step.

Caesar took the Uzi from Lu Mingfei’s hands and continued firing. The Kamaitachi brought back the sounds of the boys’ racing hearts, quickened by fear. The drumbeat of terror echoed—thump thump thump thump thump—growing faster and faster. The rain of bullets wasn’t what scared them most; it was the fear Caesar imposed upon them. In the face of this industrial, mechanical coldness, their supposed bushido courage crumbled like a tiger with its spine broken.

“Run them down! Run them down! Run them down!” Monkey face screamed like a madman. Even with only one arm left, he mounted a Ducati and led the charge. If he didn’t lead, no one would dare advance. The only way out was to crush Caesar under their wheels.

The boys mustered their final courage, spinning their swords above their heads, some firing their shotguns wildly. Caesar fired in a steady rhythm, leaving the street littered with wrecked motorcycles and flaming debris. The last few motorcycles grouped together for a final push. This was their last chance—if the cavalry broke through the musket line, they could slaughter at will. The boys screamed as they charged, their spiky hair shaking wildly. These were the core members of the Akazonae, those who had committed real crimes—people who didn’t care much for their own lives, let alone others’.

Caesar pulled out a grenade and rolled it across the street. The gang had overestimated Caesar’s limits—if there had been a rocket launcher in the equipment box, Caesar wouldn’t have hesitated to use it.

In the explosive firelight, the black Ducati soared through the air—Desmosedici RR, the emperor of the racetrack. Monkey face, hiding behind his most loyal subordinates, aimed to ensure that he reached Caesar. The Ducati passed over Caesar’s head, its spinning wheels coming down to crush him, while the man’s blade targeted Caesar’s heart. He had thrown everything aside, with hormones surging through his veins like a tidal wave—he was going to kill this foreigner! If Caesar didn’t die, he would.

Caesar raised his leg and kicked the Ducati’s fuel tank!

Monkey face suddenly realized his motorcycle was gone. He was suspended in mid-air. The Ducati, traveling at 60 kilometers per hour, had been sent flying by Caesar’s kick, crashing to the ground. Caesar grabbed the man by the head with one hand, pulling him from the air, while his other hand unloaded bullets into the $100,000 Ducati, obliterating its four-cylinder engine, axles, silver-plated exhaust, leather seat, and even the Akazonae battle flag—the symbol of the gang’s pride.

Monkey face had once cherished the motorcycle as much as he loved a beautiful woman. He had even killed for it, but Caesar had destroyed it like crumpling a paper cup.

Monkey face didn’t have time to mourn. His fear overwhelmed every other emotion. He urinated in terror as he faced the unyielding figure before him.

“I’m going to kill you. But first, you’ll tell me who’s behind all of this,” Caesar said as he shot the man’s ankle, making his foot disappear.

“I’m not patient when it comes to interrogation.” Caesar fired again, this time at the man’s knee, obliterating his lower leg.

“Watashi wa… Watashi wa…” Monkey face gasped in agony, struggling to speak.

Caesar suddenly remembered that Monkey face only spoke Japanese, so he said, “Translate.”

After Lu Mingfei translated, Monkey face muttered a few words.

“He said it would take a long time to explain, and he’s in so much pain that he’s about to pass out. He wants a drink first,” Lu Mingfei translated.

“A drink?” Caesar was surprised at the man’s audacity.

Monkey face reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small vial filled with purple liquid. Before anyone could react, he shoved the vial into his mouth, biting down hard on the glass and swallowing the contents.

“Poison?” Caesar was startled, but it was too late. The shattered vial fell to the rain-soaked ground. Monkey face’s arm went limp.

But his heartbeat didn’t stop. In fact, it returned to a steady, abnormal calm. Moments earlier, due to his injuries and drugs, his heart rate had skyrocketed to over 200 beats per minute, but now it had slowed to a mere 50 beats per minute, beating powerfully and evenly. Caesar could hear it clearly.