Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner
Chapter 219 - 140: The New Sect Hierarch Fushimi Roku

Chapter 219: Chapter 140: The New Sect Hierarch Fushimi Roku

The moves of the Unrivaled Heart Style are poetic; the breathing technique is called Cherry Blossom Falling Breath, the footwork is named Leaping Star Chasing Moon, and the ultimate strikes are called obscured moon sitting and Clear Wind Fall. They sound like sword techniques for women, similar to China’s Wing Chun... but when truly performed, they are real killing sword skills.

At Level 6 and above, swordsmanship is no longer just swordsmanship. Just like China’s martial arts and internal power, Japan’s sword skills also pursue the unity of mind and technique, the integration of sword and Zen.

Grandmasters touch the limits of the body and begin seeking spiritual transcendence, striving to step into more mystical realms, just to become faster, stronger.

At this very moment, when Fushimi Roku swung his blade, his mind went blank.

He could have dodged that bullet, but he captured the trajectory of the gun being drawn, predicted when it would fire—knowing he could slash through that bullet, he drew his sword—without any other reason or thought.

Not until the intense vibration traveled down the sword and the bullet remnants brushed past Fushimi Roku’s skin did he come to his senses, realizing what he had done.

A dead silence filled the hall.

Six heads rolled to the ground, headless bodies spurted blood from their necks, making a strange hissing sound. One of the heads still had a reflex; it blinked, looking bewildered, mouth slightly open but unable to utter a word.

Otomachi Hayashi knelt on the ground, momentarily forgetting to stand up; Horie Kei doubted his eyes, his mind went blank; the other cult members wore the same bewildered expression, only Horie Kei’s mother seemed unaware—she was the only one among all present with firm belief in superpowers.

"Again," Fushimi Roku sneered.

He readied himself, intending to recreate it once more, to familiarize himself with the sensation of slicing through bullets. In that moment of entering the Heart Flow state, it was as if his brain nerves were boiling, cold as fire, blazing as ice, a rather remarkable feeling... he wanted to experience it again.

"Maniac, maniac!"

Asano Yoshi’s voice broke, his previous calm now turned into intense fear. It was like picking up a little gecko, raising it only to find it had turned into Godzilla, capable of swallowing six little brothers in one bite—who wouldn’t be scared by that?

There were only six gunmen in the hall, and to say they were more than enough to subdue a single unarmed person shows the high regard they had for Fushimi Roku, given this is not some Hollywood action movie. The other cult leaders were all there to participate in the Five Mozi Ritual, wearing nothing but loincloths, and the only thing they had in abundance was lubrication...

How to fight now?

Asano Yoshi’s right hand holding the gun trembled; he had to support the grip with his left, using both hands. He had seen it clearly just now, even if the gunmen kneeled and begged for mercy and promised to hand over all their savings, what they got was still a ruthless beheading.

At the thought that he might end up the same way, chills ran down his spine, his heart raced wildly.

"Shoot," Fushimi Roku urged, "What are you waiting for?"

Asano Yoshi couldn’t bear the pressure and instinctively pulled the trigger. The gun roared, Fushimi Roku swung his blade again, but it was a miss; the bullet shattered the automatic door’s glass with a pop.

Everyone froze, Asano Yoshi’s shock turned to joy, as it seemed that the sword-slashing bullet was just a coincidence.

He laughed and fired three more shots, each time, Fushimi Roku’s blade missed, his attempts to catch the bullet with his sword’s edge appeared somewhat comical... Fushimi Roku, feeling displeased, slashed and flung Asano Yoshi’s gun slide away with a single cut.

The laughter ceased abruptly.

Asano Yoshi reacted quickly, turning to run; there were other exits behind the white curtains. The cult leaders scattered like frightened birds, someone had to cover the retreat.

Fushimi Roku was in no rush to chase them; he reviewed the situation in his mind for a moment, figuring out why he failed.

The first reason was a lack of solid basic skills, as his body hadn’t formed muscle memory;

The second was that his mind was too distracted just now, trying too hard to cut the bullet, which led to misses.

After understanding these reasons, Fushimi Roku stepped forward, with a flourish of his blade, slicing through the ropes binding Horie Kei in a couple of swift moves. Under the latter’s astonished gaze, Fushimi Roku leaned on his sword with both hands and smiled, saying, "You see, I didn’t lie to you, did I?"

Horie Kei, looking up, really didn’t want to cry, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing, his voice turning choked.

More than a month ago, the cult leaders learned that he was Junko’s brother, took him out of the shipping container, kept him well-fed and -watered every day, forcing him to watch videos of Asano Yoshi assaulting his mother and sister... he wished for death every day, but didn’t dare to die.

If he died, what would happen to Junko? What about mother?

But if he lived on like this, what could he do? He could only endure constant humiliation, reduced to a tool for their degradation... he was truly in despair, completely overwhelmed by suffering, unable to climb out of this mire no matter how hard he struggled.

He couldn’t even pray to the gods, because these human-skinned demons were the gods’ emissaries.

When brought into the hall, Horie Kei thought, whoever it is, I just pray for someone to stop all this—even if it means throwing a bomb, so long as it relieves them, Horie Kei would sincerely thank the person.

Whether they were a villain or hero, lunatic or Saint, Horie Kei was willing to pay any price to repay them, even if it meant sacrificing his life.

The man before him was imposing yet his face was hidden in darkness, only his neon-reflecting eyes gazed down at him.

"Now that we’re friends, our combined strength is your true strength!"

Fushimi Roku looked around, his voice resonant: "There are no saviors in this world, no gods or superpowers; everything must be fought for by ourselves... since this society is so messed up, let’s band together to change the world!"

Junko stopped crying, staring upwards blankly, thinking Mr. Fushimi’s voice was indeed as gentle and firm as in the phone call, far more perfect than she had imagined... suddenly she felt ashamed and filled with gratitude and admiration.

Otomachi Hayashi didn’t know what Fushimi Roku went through, but in just a dozen minutes, Fushimi Roku seemed like a changed person, making Otomachi Hayashi feel strangely unfamiliar... yet he didn’t dislike it; he just needed someone to lead him.

Only Horie Kei’s mother was a bit of a killjoy; she knelt down with a thud, kowtowing repeatedly, shouting, "A miracle has manifested! This must be the True God’s favor! Shiva has chosen a new emissary!"

Horie Kei, infuriated, told his mother to shut up; he wouldn’t allow her to insult their benefactor like this.

But his mother remained obstinate, claiming it was because the Zen masters were too corrupt and indulgent, using the True God’s power to wreak havoc on earth and angering Shiva, which was why He sent Fushimi Roku to clean the house—everything was destiny’s guidance! All was Shiva’s will!

"He’s the future Sect Hierarch!" Shirakawa Miki shouted, raising her arms: "Long live! Long live!!"