Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 411: God’s Downfall (3)

Dragon Raja 3

Even after Asuya left Cassell, the legend of the Demonic Blade endured—until Chu Zihang enrolled. From then on, the college’s close-combat crown belonged to the new Lionheart Society president.

Unfortunately, by the time Chu Zihang enrolled, Asuya had already returned to Japan to take up his role in the Kanto Division. There was no justification for returning to the college to duel a student in a real fight.

Asuya, of course, refused to admit that a Chinese student had broken his record. He suspected Chu Zihang had been secretly trained by a master of Japanese swordsmanship. He even emailed Chu Zihang from Japan, asking who his swordsmanship teacher was. Chu Zihang replied sincerely, stating that apart from two years at a kendo center called “Musashi,” the rest was self-taught through kendo match videos.

Convinced that Musashi must harbor a hidden master, Asuya applied for a business trip to China and brought his family’s heirloom sword. Landing in a coastal city, he took a taxi to find the Musashi Kendo Training Center.

Standing before the “Musashi” sign, Asuya fell silent. Beside it was a larger sign reading “City Youth Palace.”

The so-called Musashi Kendo Training Center was just one of the many profit-driven programs run by the Youth Palace, alongside the “Nie Er Piano Center,” “Sabbali Belly Dance Center,” and “Baishishan Watercolor Painting Center.”

There were no fixed instructors at the training center, only a few kendo enthusiasts teaching children to wield bamboo swords. As Asuya wandered through the training grounds in a daze, children bounced and skipped around him.

There were only two possibilities: either Chu Zihang had lied, or Chu Zihang was a one-in-a-million genius.

Asuya was eager to challenge Chu Zihang in a fight. However, even though Chu Zihang had arrived in Japan, Asuya was not permitted to confront him. The family’s designated host was the future patriarch, Chisei, who would never allow a subordinate to challenge someone sent from the college headquarters.

But now, it didn’t matter. From the moment he unleashed the Death Servitors, Asuya had severed all ties with the Yamata no Orochi. His plan now was to seize Red Well, challenge Chu Zihang next, and after defeating him, face an even more thrilling opponent—Chisei, the patriarch.

In the end, he would prove that, with a blade in his hand, he was Japan’s number one!

Betrayal truly was a delightful thing. While Tachibana Masamune was still alive, the Kanto Branch had maintained a sliver of gratitude toward the old man and hesitated to immediately pledge allegiance to the Oni Clan. But last night, Tachibana Masamune had died, and nothing bound Asuya any longer. He was free.

“Two hundred and fifty corpses in total. I’ve counted them,” Kageshu said, walking up behind him.

“Then this will be the last one.” Asuya looked at Ryoma Genichiro, lying in a pool of blood. All the soldiers were dead, yet this lieutenant colonel, who had been the first to be attacked, was still alive. As the head of the Ryoma family, his powerful bloodline kept him clinging to life.

Death Servitors continued to maul Ryoma Genichiro, who was clutching a walkie-talkie with trembling hands. He couldn’t even bring it to his lips, let alone speak. His hand shook uncontrollably, tapping the walkie-talkie feebly against a stone as if in a seizure.

“Haha, so this is the justice of the family, huh? The family’s justice is dying right before our eyes,” Kageshu sneered coldly. “Even at the brink of death, the Ryoma patriarch wants to notify the Miyamoto patriarch. Truly moving.”

But Asuya remained silent. He stared at Ryoma Genichiro’s trembling hand for a full five seconds before letting out a slow sigh. “This is indeed the family’s justice, and that’s not something to mock. I was careless—he’s already sent the message.”

Finally, a Death Servitor bit through the spinal nerve at the back of Ryoma Genichiro’s neck, ending his life completely. His twitching hand fell lifelessly onto the rock, still clutching the walkie-talkie.

Asuya drew his blade and severed the Death Servitor’s head in one swift strike. “These mindless creatures are utterly useless. He lost his throat and vocal cords, so he used Morse code! What he tapped out was ‘Kanto betrayal.’ The people at Red Well already know we’re here!”

Kageshu’s face showed surprise. To the younger generation, the patriarchs were seen as relics of the past—especially Ryoma Genichiro, who was considered the most mediocre among them. His only merit was his sturdy physique, which had earned him a position in the Self-Defense Forces.

Yet this unremarkable man, on the brink of death, had displayed such resolve? How strong must one’s conviction be to ignore the mauling of beasts and tap out precise Morse code?

“What do we do now?” Kageshu asked.

“Even if the message got out, it’s too late. It takes half an hour just to send reinforcements from Tokyo, and there won’t conveniently be a helicopter ready for the patriarch tonight. He won’t arrive for at least an hour,” Asuya replied coldly. “We have enough time!”

Shio’s arm slowly lowered, and no more sound came from the walkie-talkie. Perhaps the secret transmission had been detected, or perhaps the sender was dead—there was no more Morse code.

“Kanto betrayal, Kanto betrayal, Kanto betrayal…” The message repeated endlessly, its meaning crystal clear: the Kanto Branch had betrayed them. The branch had always been a source of concern for the family.

Ryoma Genichiro was likely unable to speak, which meant he had encountered significant trouble. His location was only a kilometer from Red Well, and if he faced such difficulty there, it meant the traitors were already close to Red Well. For Ryoma Genichiro to lose his ability to resist so quickly, the Kanto Branch must have used overwhelming force. Shio understood Ryoma Genichiro; even if there was a sliver of hope, that man would never surrender without a fight. So, he guessed that Ryoma Genichiro was dead. After Tachibana Masamune, the third patriarch had fallen.

“Farewell, Ryoma-kun,” Shio murmured softly. He reopened the walkie-talkie and connected to Chisei’s channel. “Patriarch! Received Ryoma-kun’s report. The Kanto Branch has betrayed us. I believe they’re already near Red Well!”

Though Chisei wasn’t always online, this report would reach him as quickly as possible. The next issue was how to protect Red Well.

With Ryoma Genichiro dead, the entire defensive perimeter around Red Well had collapsed. Chisei couldn’t directly command the Self-Defense Forces; he had to rely on Ryoma Genichiro, the lieutenant colonel, to mobilize them. The fighter jets at the Kisarazu Air Base were useless, the Camilla radar was down, and the air-defense missiles were offline. The only effective force left was the Fūma Clan’s ninjas hiding in the forest, but the Kanto Branch wouldn’t even enter the forest—they’d just speed down the road. A kilometer was just a few minutes’ drive.

The security personnel at Red Well were too few to withstand the Kanto Branch. Shio broke out in a cold sweat as he tried to think. Not all patriarchs were fighters; Shio had always been a technical expert.

He had no clue what to do; his mind was a tangled mess.

The Oni Clan’s assault must have been meticulously planned. Why choose this moment? It was indeed a critical time—the excavation was nearly complete, and the Well of Bones could be opened at any moment. But what would the Oni Clan do after seizing Red Well?

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