Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 401: Sakura’s Fall (8)

Dragon Raja 3

Ruri leaped from the steps, his long sword moving so swiftly it appeared as a dark red arc behind him. He jumped and slashed in mid-air like a soaring eagle, seeming as if he would cut both Osho and the Maybach in half. But as the clappers sounded, this eagle instantly lost its wings; his strength drained from his body like a receding tide. Ruri fell into the puddle, rolling in pain, his face sometimes ferocious, sometimes confused, occasionally showing fear as if seeing hell. He struggled to crawl away from the Maybach, but in fact, he couldn’t move an inch forward. He feebly scraped at the water, like a turtle trapped in a mud pit.

Osho maintained an elegant posture, playing that strange music with his clappers. The driver followed Ruri, holding an umbrella over his head.

To outsiders, Osho didn’t show any malice; he was just playing some unpleasant indigenous music, while Ruri seemed like a madman losing control.

As the music ended, Ruri lay powerlessly in the puddle, without even the strength to lift his arms. The doorman stood dumbfounded on the steps, not understanding what was happening. Ruri lifted his eyes to look at him; his pupils were a mix of pale gold and blood red, like two dyes blending into each other. His lips moved, as if saying “help me” or “please,” but he couldn’t even make a sound. The doorman stood still, perhaps scared stiff, or perhaps he understood that such “gang affairs” were not something an outsider could interfere with.

Osho didn’t give any orders, yet the driver pulled out a silenced pistol and fired at the doorman’s heart. Three shots formed a triangular pattern on the old man’s chest, instantly destroying his heart, making a trip to the hospital unnecessary.

No one in this world could save Ruri now. This unparalleled kabuki master, the lofty performer, the man confident he could control everything, was now just a dead turtle lying in the water.

A strong light pierced the darkness; a Toyota sedan was approaching at high speed, not slowing down even when it was very close. The driver sharply turned the steering wheel, and the car spun in the rain, splashing a huge circular spray of water. With this splash, the Toyota crashed into the rear of the Maybach at nearly 120 kilometers per hour.

The Maybach lurched forward from the impact, taking Osho inside with it. The Toyota’s trunk completely disappeared in the collision, turning into a crumpled piece of metal. Compared to the fragile Toyota, the Maybach was like a tank; that was precisely why Caesar had performed that maneuver. If they had collided with the front of the car, the Toyota’s engine would have been crushed. Losing the trunk was better than losing the engine compartment. This rented Toyota was still quite useful when properly filled with coolant.

Both side doors popped open simultaneously. Chu Zihang flipped over the car roof, his long sword tracing a curved arc as he violently attacked the driver’s neck. He had no intention of holding back; from a distance, he had already witnessed the resurrected Osho and the brutality of this driver. Chu Zihang didn’t mind being even more ruthless.

At this hair’s breadth moment, the driver responded correctly, reaching out to grab the back of Chu Zihang’s blade. In Cassell College’s undergraduate department, perhaps only Caesar could catch Chu Zihang’s blade, but Caesar would never do such a thing.

Chu Zihang released the hilt, and a fierce punch struck the driver’s face directly. The driver was sent flying, crashing onto the steps. Chu Zihang picked up the fallen long sword and flashed back into the car. Caesar never tried to catch Chu Zihang’s blade precisely because his punches were also formidable.

As a swordsman trained from a young age, Chu Zihang didn’t have the Japanese samurai’s consciousness of protecting his weapon. All his skills existed solely to defeat the enemy.

The brief fight lasted less than five seconds, and that five-second gap was enough for Lu Mingfei to drag Ruri back into the car. Caesar floored the accelerator, and the Toyota fled the scene. From beginning to end, neither Caesar nor Chu Zihang considered greeting Osho in the Maybach or casually sending a couple of bullets into Osho’s heart. They had no confidence in killing this demon-like man. For the first time, the arrogant nobleman and the reckless fighter had lost confidence.

In the rearview mirror, Osho slowly stepped out of the Maybach. Caesar drove with one hand holding a Desert Eagle, ready to fight this demon at any moment. Fortunately, Osho didn’t chase after them. Even after the car had driven far away, they could still see those pair of golden pupils shining brightly in the night.

“How is he? Is he still alive?” Caesar finally had a moment to ask Lu Mingfei.

“He still has breath,” Lu Mingfei replied.

He could only answer that way. He wasn’t sure whether Ruri was alive or dead. From a biological standpoint, he was indeed alive, with breath and a heartbeat, but as a person, he seemed already dead. He lay in the back seat, his head resting on Lu Mingfei’s lap, his whole body convulsing and curled up, trembling slightly, his eyes blank. Since Caesar and Chu Zihang had known him, he had always been that mysterious, alluring, and captivating man. But now, he looked like a frightened girl. Lu Mingfei even suspected that he had only retrieved Ruri’s body; his soul had already been taken away by Osho.