Dragon Raja; Chapter 106: Big Brother (3)

Dragon Raja

With two Glocks hanging visibly, a member of the Mint Club, confident in her looks, figure, and passion, who seemed fashionable in every way—Sakatoku Mai’s real pride lay in those two traditional blades.

She was an expert in close-quarters combat.

Just a split second difference—had it not been for those two Desert Eagles slightly blocking Mai, Caesar would have already been cut head-on. A knife fight was different from a gunfight; in a gunfight, they used Frigg rounds, but at this moment, it was a deadly duel.

Mai retreated as soon as she struck.

Caesar lowered his head, concentrating with all his senses.

But he couldn’t locate Mai; his heartbeat was somehow slowed by her, muffled by her whistling.

He also had difficulty detecting the sound of her blade. The two blades had been specially designed, with minimal wind resistance and extremely faint sound. Moreover, the sound of the blades was exactly like the whistling from the butterfly hairpins on Mai’s temples.

Two intertwining whistles circled Caesar at high speed—sometimes high, sometimes low, sometimes from the front, sometimes from behind—like a ghost.

Mai had not yet struck a second time, but where would the next strike come from? It was impossible to predict.

“Are all Japanese people ninjas?” Caesar asked. “The whistling combined with high-speed movement makes me lose my target. Very interesting.”

“Are all Italian men so pretentious?” The voice came from right in front of him, but the whistling was behind him.

“Let’s end this quickly. Three strikes—can you kill me?” Caesar asked.

“Alright, three strikes. But don’t be afraid, at most you’ll just end up severely injured or disabled. I’ve always gone easy on men with good figures who match mine.”

“I also maintain gentlemanly conduct with ladies who have good figures!”

The tip of Caesar’s sword drooped as he gave up all defensive stances, standing upright silently. His spirit, however, was at its peak. Unseen commands were issued, his domain expanded, and the Kamaitachi danced wildly in the void.

“First strike!” A light chuckle was caught a meter ahead of him.

Caesar abruptly raised his hand. The “Dictator” did not slash forward but instead blocked above his head. Just a fraction of a second later, the whistling and blade sound were captured above him; the real attack was aimed straight down at his head. The two blades clashed. As light as a cicada’s wing, Mai used the force of the impact to silently glide away, disappearing once again into the darkness.

“To think Kamaitachi could be so sharp in your hands—that’s impressive, third-year.” Mai’s chuckle seemed to come from all directions.

“It’s only just beginning, and your movement speed has increased again,” Caesar replied, returning to his original upright stance. “Using speed to counteract precision?”

“That’s right—second strike!”

Caesar tensed, hearing whistling and blade sounds simultaneously from above and below, as if there were two sackcloth. He leaped forward, and the Dictator swept smoothly behind him, forming a layer of defense. The straight-edged sword pursuing him brushed past the Dictator at a distance of less than a centimeter, producing no sound. Mai once again vanished into the darkness.

“You created a false image of yourself using the sound from your hairpin.” Caesar rolled on the ground and stood up.

“Clever. Now for the third strike—the last one!”

Caesar took a deep breath, inhaling fully into his lungs with each breath. He had to concentrate, had to give it his all—this was a rare chance for real combat. He had never encountered such an opponent. Sweat poured out from every pore, soaking his shirt completely, as if he had just run a marathon on the track. Yet there was a sense of exhilaration. Every Kamaitachi awakened, screaming with excitement.

He had absolute confidence. Fighting alongside him was an army composed of wind spirits!

He heard the sound of a bamboo flute splitting, and suddenly froze.

The whistling from the butterfly hairpins on Mai’s temples was like the sad sound of a small Japanese flute, but now, the flute sound gradually dissipated, leaving only a faint echo.

There was only one explanation: Mai, who had used speed to gain the advantage, suddenly stopped, abandoning all of her advantages.

But strangely, the final echoes came from every direction, 360 degrees, as if there were a Mai standing in every space around him.

In a world of light, this was completely impossible—no Yanling could produce an effect like “shadow clones.”

But in this pitch-black world, based on the sound captured by the Kamaitachi, it was as if it were real.

Caesar bowed his head. In his consciousness, countless Mais surrounded him in a circle, slowly raising their blades with extreme slowness so that no sound was produced.

Three hundred and sixty sharp blades, ready to strike at any moment.

Caesar smiled silently. His “Spirit” collapsed with that smile, his domain instantly contracted, and the Kamaitachi flew back, like countless birds returning to their nest in the darkness.

He had given up his advantage.

The final strike, like a duel between samurai, the killing intent had frozen time itself, waiting only for a falling leaf to break the silence and unleash a burst of blade light.

“Ding!”

The sound was like a bell ringing, like a blade slicing through and severing a taut string. The balance was broken. Three hundred and sixty Mais lunged in, every one of the 360 degrees filled with blades. Mai’s “Blade Vortex Tempest” brought a storm of knife light.

Caesar spun, squatted, gripped his blade with both hands, and with all his strength, swung towards his right rear!

At the last moment, he didn’t even bother to determine the enemy’s position—his swing, the strength, and the angle were already set in his mind, precise as if measured with a protractor.

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