Chapter 199: Dirty Tricks
Click!
A circular grenade pin dangled uselessly from Dorian's finger. The main body of
the grenade had been kicked away by Ren Shiroki, leaving the old man holding
nothing but air.
The grenade arched high into the sky before landing in a distant clearing.
—BOOM!
The explosion roared, unleashing a thunderous shockwave that sent shrapnel,
flames, and thick black smoke billowing into the darkening evening sky. The
heavy, acrid scent of gunpowder drifted over on the wind.
"…Phew!"
Dorian took a moment to steady himself. He inhaled sharply, snorting out the
blood clots in his nose with a force that squeezed tears from his eyes.
"Haha... lucky me. I managed to get a hand up in time..."
"That was a dream-like heavy punch, Ren Shiroki."
He stood tall, looking at Ren. Seeing the suppressed rage behind Ren's calm
expression, Dorian couldn't help but offer a serene, mocking smile.
"Ren-san, you seem to have quite the grudge against grenades..."
Ren shrugged, offering no confirmation or denial.
In the distance...
Rob Robinson watched the scene, paralyzed. Already shaken by the initial ambush,
he was now utterly terrified by the sudden explosion.
"F... Fuck!"
Even the sunny, professional athlete couldn't help but let out a curse. Being a
high-level fighter himself, he could tell exactly how close things were getting
to becoming a massacre.
"Ren! Gaolang! Are these lunatics here for an unsanctioned duel with you two?!"
Receiving only a brief glance from his friends, Robinson grew more indignant. He
frowned at the two dangerous attackers.
"Is this what you call a duel between men?!" Robinson roared. "Razor blades,
hidden springs, and now grenades?!"
"What's next? Submachine guns? Poison? Smoke bombs?!"
"This isn't a fight! This is madness!"
"..."
Dorian chuckled in silence. Doyle, standing closer to Robinson, stood up
straight after catching his breath. He looked at the athlete with eyes that were
unnervingly clear.
"You said... 'Duel'?"
Doyle turned his gaze toward Robinson. "Then tell me... what counts as a 'Duel'
to you?"
When Robinson hesitated, Doyle continued, his expression earnest, yet making the
atmosphere feel warped and twisted.
"Teach me then. What is a 'Duel'?"
"..."
Robinson paused, swallowing hard. "Fine. Let me ask you this." He gestured with
his hand. "If you and I were dueling right here, and I suddenly pulled a handgun
and shot you, what would you think?"
"Eh...?"
Doyle's eyes widened. He genuinely looked like he couldn't understand the logic
of the question.
"Then use it!"
His answer was perfectly natural—as if someone had asked what a thirsty man
should do with a bottle of water.
"If pulling a gun wins the fight, then you should pull the gun without
hesitation!"
Looking at Robinson's face, which was now dripping with cold sweat, Doyle spat
out a mouthful of bloody saliva. "You've got it all wrong. I'm not a 'Fighter'."
"I have no desire to be a World Champion. I have zero interest in fame."
Doyle tilted his chin up. "I only need to confirm one thing—that 'I am the
strongest'."
Robinson was horrified by the philosophy. "And what does 'strongest' mean to
you?"
Doyle wiped the blood from his lip. "It means never losing to anyone. Ever."
"..."
Robinson had nothing left to say. But across from him, Gaolang Wongsawat
narrowed his eyes. "You don't want to lose to anyone, yet you joined this
tournament because you want to know what 'defeat' feels like?"
"Precisely." Doyle offered a faint smile. "The best way to taste defeat is to
give everything I have—every trick, every weapon—and still have my victory
snatched away."
"I wonder... can that wish be granted today?"
Doyle looked toward Ren Shiroki, then spared a glance for Dorian.
"I don't know what that white-haired old man is thinking. I didn't know him
before I came to Tokyo. But what I just said is my personal truth."
Finally, his sharp, sinister gaze locked back onto Gaolang.
"I can tell. You're the type who 'fights for others.' A bodyguard, perhaps? Tell
me, why aren't you glued to your master's side right now?"
"What a naive warrior..."
Doyle was talking quite a bit, but he was doing it for one reason: he was
searching for a gap in Gaolang's armor.
But no matter the angle, the boxer was impenetrable. Gaolang hadn't left a
single opening for a close-quarters ambush.
Doyle was thinking: How do I break him? Gaolang was thinking: How do I end him?
Faced with unknown concealed weapons, Gaolang decided to seize the initiative
the very instant Doyle moved.
On the other side...
The fight between Ren and Dorian was getting much "louder."
Tch!
Dorian spat out a blood clot along with half a shattered tooth. He looked at his
left hand—the one Ren had smashed into his own face. Even the back of his hand
had been sliced open by his own teeth.
Compared to the direct elbow strike to his gut, Dorian felt that initial punch
carried a much more piercing pain.
It's different...
Dorian was now certain. Compared to the kid he had run into by chance in the
underground tunnels, the Ren Shiroki standing here now was a different beast
entirely.
His technical repertoire was vast, and his movements were far more refined. In
other words—he had grown stronger, and he was far more "synchronized" with the
reality of combat.
"Haha!"
Dorian let out a hearty laugh, though he winced as a sharp pain flared in his
shoulder.
Ren noticed the reaction. Was Dorian already injured? Based on where Dorian had
emerged from, if you kept going that way across the river, you'd hit the
Shinshinkai Headquarters.
Knowing Dorian's obsession with Doppo Orochi, it wasn't hard to guess what he'd
been up to.
Ren arched an eyebrow. "Did you go pay your respects at the Shinshinkai Dojo?"
"My apologies. I'm just so fascinated by Doppo Orochi. Too bad he wasn't there
today, so I had to say hello to some of his students instead."
Dorian clenched his fists, smiling at Ren. "But now, I've changed my mind. I
find myself wanting to see you more."
Ren looked surprised. Dorian's gaze turned sincere as he continued, "Because
right now, I feel like the two of us... are actually of the same kind."
"..."
Ren blinked, then scratched his head. "Is that an insult? Am I supposed to be
offended?"
"Hahahaha!"
Dorian roared with laughter, the air around him filled with a twisted sense of
joy.
The next second—
Zip!
Ren lunged forward, launching a frontal assault. But the moment he entered
Dorian's reach, he halted his momentum, retreated half a step, and fired a
rapid-fire left straight.
[LUKE'S MUZZLE]!
Bang!
Dorian was feinted. A punch clipped the tip of his nose, but he tanked the hit
to press forward. He lunged with a right spear-hand, aiming straight for Ren's
throat.
In a heartbeat, Ren raised his knee to parry the spear-hand, then slammed that
same foot into the ground with a thunderous stomp. He twisted his waist,
channeling the torque into a horizontal right elbow.
[DRIVE IMPACT: TIGER'S RETRIBUTION]!
Whoosh!
The Drive Impact derived from Muay Thai allowed him to transition from a parry
into a relentless offensive rhythm in a single motion.
THUD!
Dorian's chest took another heavy hit. He coughed up a spray of blood that
splattered across Ren's face. It wasn't planned, but it was the classic "blind
the eyes with blood" dirty trick!
But Ren was ready for it.
His pupils vibrated violently. [ENGINE] was fully active. His intense conscious
will commanded his eyelids, overriding the instinctual blink reflex. Every one
of Dorian's movements remained visible through the crimson-tinted vision!
"TAKE THIS!"
Ren let out a roar, driving his left elbow upward at point-blank range, smashing
into Dorian's face and sending blood and teeth spraying in a wide arc.
[SAGAT'S TIGER STONE]!
After creating a small amount of distance, Ren suddenly lifted his leg—not for a
knee strike, but to stomp down on Dorian's lead knee to pin his footwork.
Ren clenched his fists, elbows bent at 90 degrees. He pulled both arms back to
their limit and unleashed a dual-hand horizontal strike.
[GUILE'S SONIC BLADE]!
Schwing!
The double-strike slammed into Dorian's chest. In an instant, his hoodie was
shredded, and two bloody gashes appeared across his torso.
However, Ren could feel that the wounds were too shallow. He had only grazed the
skin; it was far from a deciding blow. Dorian had retreated just in time to
minimize the damage.
But then, Dorian didn't counter-attack. He retreated further, his hand clutching
something.
—A lighter!
And at the corner of the lighter's base, two nearly invisible "threads" were
drifting through the air.
Here it comes!
Ren's consciousness surged, his memories of Dorian's fights flashing by. If
Doyle's vileness was visible through his body modifications, Dorian's was
entirely submerged in his soul.
Of course he had a trick up his sleeve.
Those invisible lines drifting in the air were aerospace-grade high-tensile
fiber. They felt lighter than a spiderweb and were impossible to detect by touch
or sight. Only four micrometers thick, they could withstand two hundred
kilograms of tension. If they looped around a human limb, a single pull would
slice through flesh and bone like butter.
Another one of Dorian's "Masterpieces"!
Ren had already planned his counter. He lunged forward, stepping deep into
Dorian's personal space until they were chest-to-chest. At this range, a Muay
Thai elbow strike would be several times faster than the fiber line could be
retracted!
Come on!
The moment he felt a sting on his skin—the moment the fiber started to cut—he
would twist to shed the momentum and pulverize Dorian!
Do it!!
Come... wait, what?
Ren didn't feel the anticipated sting.
Instead, a short distance away—
Doyle suddenly jerked. His left wrist was yanked violently. He was dragged
off-balance toward Dorian, crashing right into Gaolang along the way.
Crash!
Dorian's fiber wire hadn't caught Ren. It had snared Doyle's wrist—and looped
around Gaolang as well!
(End of Chapter)
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