Chapter 334: Psychological Warfare
An autumn night of rain.
Flash! BOOM!
Thunder roared, and the sky wept a relentless, drowning downpour.
On the ground floor of the Soul Combat Hub, just outside the sliding glass
doors—Flash!
A bolt of stark white lightning tore through the dark, briefly illuminating the
rainy night and carving out the silhouette of a small, wiry man. He stood there
like a vengeful spirit from the underworld.
Bathed in the interior light of the dojo, his face finally became clear.
He was a middle-aged man with drooping, heavy-lidded eyes and short,
slicked-back hair. His nose was sharp, his expression played with a cruel,
mocking amusement. There was a serpentine malice in his gaze—a cold, venomous
aura that made the skin crawl.
He was [THE POISON HAND] Yanagi Ryuko.
The last of the five Death Row Convicts who had yet to be captured.
Not long ago, he had ambushed Ohma Tokita and Rihito in a dark alley, then
targeted a wounded Ren Shiroki, only to be forced into a retreat by the
intervention of Retsu Kaioh. After that, he had vanished into the shadows.
While Ren was away in Kure Village, Yanagi had hunted down Baki Hanma at his
home. He hadn't expected that Baki—having experienced "love" with Kozue—had
evolved significantly in both spirit and strength. Yanagi had been
systematically dismantled, left weeping with rage as Baki simply walked away
from him.
Yet, even in defeat, his cowardly Poison Hand had found its mark, leading to the
near-fatal poisoning Baki had only just overcome.
And now, on this storm-wracked night, Yanagi Ryuko had come to the Soul Combat
Hub.
Ren Shiroki turned his head, studying the "viper-faced" man outside. He didn't
look shocked; if anything, a slow smile spread across his face as he offered a
casual greeting.
"Yanagi. The door isn't locked. If you don't mind, try not to break anything.
Just slide it to the left."
"..."
This caught Yanagi off guard.
After a brief pause, he didn't initiate a strike. He slowly slid the door open,
his voice low, raspy, and chilling. "Pardon the intrusion."
Yanagi stepped inside, closed the door, and removed his shoes before walking
directly toward the table in the living room. Because he lacked an umbrella, he
was soaked to the bone. His footsteps left dark, wet patches on the wooden
floor—a trail left by a drowning ghost.
Ren remained unfazed. He gestured for Yanagi to sit across from him and even
tossed a pack of tissues his way.
Yanagi hesitated for a second, then took a tissue and wiped the rain from his
face.
Meanwhile, Arisa stood up in silence. She headed to the kitchen to boil water
for tea, the "clink" of porcelain the only sound accompanying the storm outside.
Yanagi sat cross-legged, adjusting his damp black shirt. His sinister gaze
darted around, appraising every corner of the Soul Combat Hub.
"This place is impressive. Truly impressive," he mused. "Modern gym equipment
combined with a traditional martial arts dojo... it's exactly what the youth of
today would find appealing."
"—"
Ren felt a strange spark of pride at the compliment, scratching the corner of
his mouth. He leaned back, bracing his hands on the floor behind him, and
glanced toward the kitchen. He could hear the kettle beginning to whistle.
"Yanagi—"
Ren shifted into a more relaxed posture, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose I should
thank you."
"Thank me?" Yanagi sounded genuinely surprised.
Ren grinned. "For not breaking my door. You saved me a repair bill."
Yanagi let out a mirthless chuckle. "I'm afraid I don't deserve such gratitude.
I came here with nothing but malice. I'm here for a duel."
Ren's grin widened. "Straight to the point. Nice. That's perfect!"
Yanagi thinned his lips and continued his psychological assault.
"Whether it's the family members you keep close, or this dojo you prize so
highly... all of it serves as a shackle. It limits your movements."
"Furthermore, tonight is a night of heavy rain." Yanagi looked toward the
window. "On a normal day, you are surrounded by powerful allies. I couldn't move
against you directly. But tonight..."
Ren's smile only grew. "Don't sweat the details, Yanagi. I don't mind."
Yanagi mocked himself. "No, I mind. I have no desire to fight a crowd. I learned
that lesson the hard way from Retsu Kaioh."
The two of them engaged in a bizarrely civil conversation.
Yanagi's intention was clear: he was looking for a crack in Ren's psychological
armor. To that end, he began to explain his own techniques, attempting to weigh
Ren down with the pressure of the unknown.
"The martial art I practice is called [WAY OF THE VOID] (Kuuda)."
"One of its branches is the [POISON HAND]. I assume you've heard all about that
from Baki Hanma, so I won't bore you with the details."
"Beyond that, I have mastered several lethal arts. I specialize in the [VACUUM
PALM] and the [WHIPLASH ARM]."
Yanagi began to project a dense, suffocating aura of killing intent. His eyes
shifted downward, staring at the low table between them.
"As you can see, this is a fine wooden table."
Yanagi reached out with his left hand, placing his palm flat against the
surface. With a sudden tensing of his arm, he lifted his hand—and the table rose
with it.
He wasn't gripping the edge. His palm was simply flat against the wood, yet it
remained stuck as if fused with industrial glue.
"Oh?" Ren leaned in to observe.
"By creating a perfect vacuum within the palm, one can achieve this," Yanagi
explained. "The softer, lighter, or rougher the object, the harder it is to pull
off."
"But if you train it to my level... whether it's a wooden table, traditional
washi paper, or a rough brick wall, I can adhere to it. I can use this to scale
buildings—or I can place it over an opponent's mouth and nose. I call it the
'Suffocating Poison'."
Clang!
Yanagi released the vacuum, letting the table drop back to the floor. "Beyond
that, I am quite skilled with the [WHIPLASH ARM]."
"Imagine your arm from shoulder to fingertip has no bones. Achieve total
relaxation until your limb becomes a liquid. Then, you swing that 'liquid' arm."
Snap!
Yanagi flicked his arm casually through the air. The resulting crack was like a
sonic boom.
"In this way, the arm becomes a whip of mercury. When it strikes human skin, it
inflicts a level of agony that makes death seem like a mercy."
"Heh... pardon my boasting."
Yanagi's words were humble, but the intent behind them was a calculated,
suffocating pressure.
"I know many ways to kill. But of all my arts, these three—including the Poison
Hand—are the ones I am most satisfied with."
Ren stared at Yanagi, his grin never wavering. "Those are some damn good moves!"
Yanagi paused.
The reason he was explaining his moves so patiently was that he had already used
them against Baki; there was no point in keeping them secret. Tactically,
revealing them himself and projecting this overwhelming pressure was usually
enough to shatter an opponent's resolve.
But to Yanagi's mounting confusion, Ren wasn't showing fear. He wasn't even
pretending to be calm. He was genuinely admiring the techniques.
This feeling... I can't read him.
Yanagi recalled the same uneasy sensation he'd felt before fighting Baki—a fight
that had ended in utter humiliation. His own composure began to fray. He
frowned, forcing himself to calm down.
Just then, Arisa returned with the tea, placing a cup in front of Ren and one in
front of Yanagi.
Yanagi muttered a "thank you" but didn't touch the cup.
Ren looked toward the door. "It's wet and miserable out there. Why don't we wait
a while? Let the storm pass before we get started."
Yanagi saw an opening and gave a sinister grin. "In that case, I can't guarantee
I'll be able to resist taking a swing at your sister while we wait—"
It was a direct, lethal threat. Most people would have had a visceral emotional
reaction. Ren did too—but it wasn't anger. It was a dark, playful excitement.
"Are you serious, Yanagi?!"
Ren's teeth bared in a grin, his combat aura surging as he locked eyes with the
convict. "You want to fight me... and try to take on my sister at the same time?
Do you really think you have what it takes?!"
"Of course—wait, what?"
Yanagi blinked, his response dying in his throat. He was baffled. Ren's reaction
felt... wrong.
Ren mocked him with a jagged laugh. "Are you really prepared for a 1-on-2,
Yanagi?!"
Yanagi was genuinely lost now. "Is this... a threat?"
"No. It's a fact," Ren said, raising an eyebrow. "My sister... she's spent too
long being 'the strong one' for us. She's become powerful. Far more powerful
than you can imagine."
"Is that so...?"
Yanagi's unease deepened. He began to consider a pre-emptive strike.
But the next second—Knock, knock, knock!
Someone was knocking on the glass door from the outside.
Yanagi nearly jumped. "—?!"
He spun around to see a silhouette outside. It was a tall, powerfully built man
with long hair, holding an umbrella. His skin was a deep bronze. He wore an
athletic tracksuit, his hair tied over his left shoulder, and a small pendant
hung from a cord around his forehead.
His face was cold, his eyebrows sharp, and his eyes were half-lidded, yet they
held the razor-sharp edge of a blade.
His name: [THAILAND'S GOD OF WAR] Gaolang Wongsawat.
The pinnacle of striking arts was an old friend of Ren's. In the middle of this
torrential downpour, Gaolang's sudden arrival took even Ren by surprise.
"Pardon me."
Gaolang left his umbrella outside, slid the door open, and stepped into the
living room after removing his shoes. His "dead-fish" eyes scanned the room
before settling on Ren.
"Arisa-chan sent me a message this morning," Gaolang explained in his flat,
professional tone. "She said you brought back souvenirs from Kure Village for
both me and His Highness."
"I was worried His Highness would grow impatient, so I came to collect them
myself. My apologies for the intrusion."
The "Highness" Gaolang referred to was the current King of Thailand—Rama XIII.
He was a contemporary of Metsudo Katahara and a close friend of the Soul Combat
Hub.
"Oh! Right, I almost forgot!" Arisa clapped her hands.
To be honest, despite her brother's confidence, Arisa had been a little nervous,
terrified of being a liability. She had been mentally mapping out escape routes
for when the fighting started. Gaolang's appearance had shattered the tension.
"—Hmm?"
As the King's personal bodyguard, Gaolang was hyper-sensitive to hostile intent.
He immediately realized the "small, middle-aged man" was not a guest.
Who is this? Based on the description... this must be the convict, Yanagi Ryuko.
Gaolang made the assessment in a fraction of a second. He shifted his stance
slightly, his lidded eyes narrowing into a sharp, lethal glare. He looked at Ren
and Arisa.
"So... what's going on here?"
☆☆☆
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