Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 235: Sakura and Red Lotus (4)

Dragon Raja 3

“If you reveal the identities of Osho and the Dragon King, I guarantee your freedom. The clan will monitor you, but you’ll be free to live with the person you love, anywhere you want.”

“You’d imprison my kin but grant freedom to me, a red-classified oni?” Sakurai Kogure shook her head. “Family head, do you even know what the Oni Clan really is? To you, we’re just a group of oni resisting your clan. That’s all, isn’t it?”

Chisei hesitated, slightly taken aback.

“Forgive my rudeness,” Sakurai Kogure smiled again. “You don’t need to understand these things. You’re the great Amaterasu, always standing in the light. No matter how much I say, how could you ever know the coldness of the night?”

She reached into her wide sleeves, pulling out a small green cup and a wooden box. She broke the last purple vial in the box and poured its contents into the cup.

“Don’t!” Chisei shouted.

“A toast to the family head.” Sakurai Kogure downed the liquid.

Kumogiri flashed from its sheath as Chisei shot toward her like lightning. Burning beams crashed around them, and he wielded his sword to shield himself. Through the shower of sparks, he saw dark purple veins crawling up Sakurai Kogure’s pale neck toward her face, like writhing serpents. The cup fell to the floor as she tilted her head back, tears sliding down her now grotesquely contorted face. On the ceiling above was a large mirror, and through it, she could see her own hideous transformation—as though the monster inside her was awakening, claiming her once-beautiful body.

“How ugly… That’s why I hesitated to take the last dose. I wanted him to see me at my best when he returned,” she whispered.

Her head and hands retracted into the flowing layers of her kimono, like a giant turtle pulling into its shell. The collar and wide sleeves collapsed, but the lower part of the junihitoe swelled violently. The cloud-like layers of fabric burst apart, and a monstrous oni, gray-green in color, emerged as if from a cocoon. It grabbed the fallen white-sheathed sword and, with a blinding flash, charged at Chisei, screaming in rage.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Crow screamed as he hurtled down the mountain, but Sakura was even faster.

They had assumed the family head, given his status, would understand the principle of “the son of a thousand gold never sits under a dangerous roof.” If negotiations failed, they thought he would retreat—if Ryoma wanted to burn, so be it. Even if she turned on him, surely she wouldn’t be able to threaten Chisei.

But even after ten full minutes inside Elysium Hall, Chisei hadn’t emerged, and everything seemed quiet inside. Crow and Sakura, though worried, guessed that perhaps the negotiation was progressing—otherwise, Chisei wouldn’t have been delayed for so long. Then, ten minutes later, a sharp scream and the loud clash of metal erupted from inside, clearly indicating an intense fight had broken out. Crow slapped his thigh and yelled, “So after all that talking, it still came to blows! Should’ve just tossed in a firebomb earlier and sent Ryoma straight to Buddha!”

Without saying a word, Sakura shot down the mountain like a bullet.

Crow sprinted while reloading his magazine, filling it with mercury-laden explosive rounds. As a hardened enforcer who had long forgotten any sense of sympathy or mercy, he intended to shoot every one of those rounds into Ryoma’s heart. How dare she challenge the newly appointed family head?

Elysium Hall was already on the verge of collapse, with tongues of flame licking out of every window, as if a hundred sulfur-eating red dragons were hidden inside. Crow and Sakura had seen Chisei casually push open the doors and walk in earlier. At the time, they hadn’t thought much of it, assuming they could do the same. But now, as they approached, they realized that there was a fundamental difference in their bloodlines. What Chisei had done so effortlessly was nearly impossible for them. The temperature around the burning building had soared to over a hundred degrees Celsius, and even standing in that scorching air for just a few seconds would cause severe burns—not to mention the oxygen in the air was almost completely consumed.

Crow swore under his breath, feeling the heat searing his lungs with every breath. He had inhaled air over a hundred degrees.

“Careful!” he grabbed Sakura’s wrist, afraid she might recklessly charge into the inferno, unaware of the dangers inside.

But he couldn’t hold her back. Sakura lunged forward, slamming her shoulder into the scorching bronze door. In an instant, her clothes caught fire, and the temperature of the door was so high Crow couldn’t imagine what it was doing to her skin. He instinctively felt defeated, thinking he lacked the courage. After all, they were both members of the Execution Bureau, both sworn retainers of Chisei, yet here was the girl risking her life at the front while he hesitated.

The bronze door still didn’t budge. Its lock had melted in the heat, and Sakura’s body weight wasn’t enough to force it open. Female ninjas had to commit seppuku if they weighed more than fifty kilograms.

Crow rushed in and kicked the door hard. The hinges snapped, and the bronze door crashed to the ground. He quickly grabbed Sakura, frantically tearing at her burning clothes.

“I’m fine…” Sakura shrugged him off, curling her shoulders to wriggle free. Her uniform was ruined, and beneath it, she wore a black skintight suit—a special armor so form-fitting that it left little difference from being fully exposed.

“Ah, good, you’re okay, you’re okay!” Crow stammered, scratching his head and bowing awkwardly to show he hadn’t meant to take advantage. Then, he hurriedly tried to pat out the flames in her burning hair.

Sakura ignored him, turning to look at the figures in the center of the inferno. To be precise, one of the figures could hardly be called human, and their embrace was far too bloody.

She could imagine how the final moments of the battle had played out. Ryoma had leaped into the air, executing a powerful downward slash. With her dragon-enhanced body, she could jump four or five meters high, and her strike was akin to the violent Satsuma Jigen-ryu style, an ultimate technique where the sword is simply raised overhead and then brought down in a deadly vertical cut. It was a suicidal move—if the enemy counterattacked, both would perish. If they tried to block, the sword and the person would be cleaved in two. Ryoma’s final strike was even more brutal than Jigen-ryu—she had cut through the granite floor when she landed! But Chisei had dodged her strongest blow at the last moment, moving just a few centimeters to the side. Her sword brushed past his shoulder, and Ryoma fell into his arms. Chisei had locked her in a tight embrace, preventing her from struggling, and had plunged the entire length of his sword into her heart.

“Boss! Are you okay?” Crow shouted from behind Chisei.

Chisei waved him off and gently laid Sakurai Kogure’s body down. He didn’t withdraw the sword. Pulling it out would cause her to die instantly, as it would completely destroy her heart.

Crow didn’t understand his leader’s actions—why treat her so respectfully? She was merely a greenish-gray oni, her face covered in bone spurs and bulges, her body scaled in green. Why show such courtesy to a monster? He felt that the hilt should have been kicked in deeper, letting Ryoma feel the agony of her heart being torn apart.