The Celestial Dragons Deserve to Die!
A storm of meteor-like Finger Guns met flashing sword shadows as Yang Ning and Fangsi Ge clashed—teeth gritted, eyes burning, neither willing to yield.
Unlike their earlier tactical exchanges, both fighters had now abandoned all defense. Their blades didn't seek to parry—only to wound. There was no fear of death in their eyes, only the raw will to end the other.
Blood pooled beneath Fangsi Ge's feet, his body torn open, ribs and organs half-exposed. Yet Yang Ning showed no mercy. He targeted the wounds, kicked the injured leg, pressed the advantage without hesitation.
Fangsi Ge, however, was relentless. Even on death's door, he kept firing Finger Guns into Yang Ning's body.
[Health Points: 1224/2660]
[Health Points: 1136/2660]
[Health Points: 1021/2660]
[Health Points: 979/2660]
…
Despite his double-layered defenses, Yang Ning's health bled away fast.
After one final brutal exchange, they broke apart—needing space, if only for a breath.
But Yang Ning got none.
Two CP8 agents, waiting in the wings, lunged with longswords. Between them, bullets hissed—fired with cruel precision.
"For the glory of the adults!"
The dark-skinned CP8 leader barked the order with righteous fervor—though behind his back, a smug grin spread. He thought Yang Ning, riddled with holes and drenched in blood, was already finished.
"Clang!"
Their blades met—and the CP8 leader's confidence shattered.
Yang Ning's strength hadn't waned. His defense was as solid as at the start of the battle.
"How… how are you still—?!" the man stammered.
"Heh-heh."
Yang Ning kicked him away, then—without looking—swung Kotetsu to block a side slash from the second agent.
In this system, injuries didn't affect performance. His stats remained full—only his health pool shrank.
While Yang Ning fended off the ambush, Fangsi Ge faced Esdeath.
Her greatsword, though massive, moved with feather-light grace. Black sword light arced upward like a shadow rising from the abyss.
Fangsi Ge crossed his arms—both instantly blackened with Armament Haki—and blocked.
"Clang!"
The impact sent him flying, though he'd technically parried the strike.
The greatsword was deceptive: light as a reed in her hands, yet each blow carried the weight of a mountain.
Caught off guard by the shifting rhythm, Fangsi Ge barely recovered before Esdeath spoke—not with words, but with presence.
"What superb swordsmanship," he rasped mid-air. "Given time, you'd become a legend."
"Unfortunately… you chose the wrong enemy. Your journey ends here."
Esdeath said nothing. She never did. Her answer was always in her blade.
"Greatsword Style: Heavenly Might!"
The sword descended—not with speed, but with **weight**. The air itself seemed to collapse under its presence. Black as the void, vast as the sky.
Fangsi Ge met it head-on.
"Iron Fist Technique – Super Steel!"
"Clang!!!"
The collision boomed like a gong struck by a god.
Esdeath coughed blood and crashed onto the deck.
Fangsi Ge landed steady—but with a fresh, horizontal gash across his chest.
"Esdeath?!"
Yang Ning, having just cleared the CP8 agents, saw her fall and shouted in alarm.
She pushed herself up, leaning on her sword.
"Fine."
"Like hell you are! Switch!"
Yang Ning checked his panel:
[Health Points: 986/2740]
Kills were too slow. Only twenty enemies down—just 80 health regained. Not enough.
New plan: Yang Ning would take over Fangsi Ge. Esdeath would clear the grunts. And Willie?
Yang Ning glanced over—and almost laughed.
Willie wasn't stupid. He avoided direct fights with CP8. Instead, he focused on the lower-tier CP agents—**crippling them, not killing them**, leaving them as walking health packs for Yang Ning.
Smart. Efficient.
With fresh "blood packs" fed to him by Esdeath, Yang Ning re-engaged Fangsi Ge, trading wounds without fear.
Fangsi Ge spat blood, voice trembling with fury:
"You insignificant ant! If I hadn't been injured first, would a lowly pirate like you even be *worthy* of fighting me?!"
Yang Ning just shook his head.
He'd never understood this world's obsession with hierarchy. The Celestial Dragons? Sure, they were nobles. But CP agents? **Watchdogs**. And yet they strutted like kings.
*If you're so proud, why be a dog?*
Too tired to argue with a deluded guard, Yang Ning pressed the attack.
He knew Fangsi Ge would recover faster—raw stamina favored the native fighter. So Yang Ning's goal was simple: **no rest**. Use his system's health regen and data awareness to grind Fangsi Ge down.
Fangsi Ge understood too.
He took a deep breath. His eyes sharpened. His right hand turned black once more.
"Iron Body Fist Technique: Mountain Collapse!"
This was his ultimate strike. His aura condensed into something almost solid. The wind of the punch arrived before the fist itself—a dark, bomb-like force aimed to shatter bone and soul.
Yang Ning didn't retreat.
Because Fangsi Ge, in his desperation, had **left his own body wide open**.
"One-Sword Style: Ultimate – Star River Slash!"
Black fist met starlit blade.
The explosion deafened. Shockwaves tore through the deck, splintering wood, scattering bodies.
For a heartbeat—they held.
Then Yang Ning's stamina gave out.
He left one last wound on Fangsi Ge's chest—before being blasted backward, crashing through the cabin wall and vanishing into the ship's interior.
"Yang Ning!"
Esdeath moved to intercept Fangsi Ge—but the man just laughed, stepping back.
Inside the cabin, Yang Ning lay sprawled on cracked flooring, head spinning.
"Am I… already in hell?"
He groaned, vision blurred from the beating.
Then he looked up.
And froze.
The cabin wasn't empty.
Rows of **skinned humanoid figures** hung from hooks—like carcasses in a slaughterhouse. Some large. Some small. All dark red, glistening in the dim light.
Only the slow, rhythmic *drip… drip… drip* of thick liquid broke the silence.
The bubbly-headed noble's words echoed in his mind:
> "I really like this hair… and um, the skin is nice too."
> "This lowly commoner doesn't deserve these things. Hang him up and skin him alive! I want him whole!"
"Could it be…?"
Yang Ning's breath caught.
His fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked.
A fire—cold, devouring, inhuman—rose in his chest.
He forced out the words, voice trembling with fury:
**"The Celestial Dragons deserve to die."**