Ray Chu thought he heard someone calling his name.
When he turned around, there was only an undulating sea of yellow sand.
Unlike the previous two times, this jump left him fully conscious from start to finish—no blackout at all. He'd simply passed through an "invisible door," and in the blink of an eye, he'd gone from a street in Japan to the middle of a desert.
The sun blazed overhead. The air was hot and bone-dry. Here and there, you could make out the faint shapes of withered skeletons half-buried beneath the sand. Aside from a few cacti standing in silence, there wasn't a trace of life.
For an ordinary person, being dropped into a place like this would likely mean death.
But Ray Chu was a martial artist. Not only was he tough as nails—he also wasn't one of those fossilized "traditionalists" who refused to use technology.
To him, time was money.
POOF!
He tossed out a capsule he'd brought from the Dragon Ball world. An off-road vehicle popped into existence on the sand. Ray Chu pulled on goggles and a windbreaker, then gunned the engine and tore forward.
"Lots of people that way… a town?" He wrenched the wheel and veered toward it.
Before long, a settlement rose out of the desert. Beside it lay an oasis, thick with shrubs and water.
The roar of the engine drew the town's attention—though the "locals" didn't look like saints by any stretch.
The moment Ray Chu got out, a group subtly closed in, hemming him in. Their guns were all but pointed at the stranger.
"Hello, traveler from afar. Welcome to Ganlu Town." A man who looked like the mayor stepped in front of the car.
"Do you speak English?" The man's features leaned Western, so Ray Chu answered in English.
The other man blinked, then paused as his gaze lingered on Ray Chu's face—especially the blond hair—before breaking into a smile. "Of course. I studied in America for a time. May I ask, honored guest… are you from the country up north?"
"Where is this?" Ray Chu ignored the question and asked his own.
A few questions in a row, and the "mayor's" patience visibly thinned. And when he saw Ray Chu shut off the engine of that strange vehicle, he seemed to decide the prey had already walked into the trap.
"Welcome to Mexico, stranger. If I were you, I'd get out—nice and obedient—before you end up suffering something worse."
Several men stepped out behind him, reeking of bandit bravado. They carried double-barreled shotguns, axes, and spiked maces, all glaring Ray Chu down.
"Heh heh heh. What a soft-looking pretty boy. Didn't your mama tell you not to run around?"
"An American young master—looks like we can squeeze a fat ransom out of this one!"
"What a pretty face." The third man spat, eyes raking Ray Chu from head to toe, lingering on his blond hair and red eyes. "Look at him—skinny, delicate, all clean like a doll. He's the kind of pretty little thing who cries the moment you grab him."
Filth flooded his ears. They'd already decided Ray Chu was theirs, and they didn't even bother pretending otherwise.
Ray Chu sighed, rose from the driver's seat, and stepped out.
"Ohhh, good boy." A skinny man with a greasy face and rotten teeth leered as he reached out. "You're real obedient. Don't worry—Daddy'll take good care of you."
"I've already seen what passes for 'the worst' in this world," Ray Chu said calmly. "But your face still qualifies as an eyesore."
No one saw him move.
The next instant, the skinny man's hand folded backward with a sickening snap—palm bent until the back of it pressed tight against his forearm. Pale tendons tore open, exposing white, ghastly bone.
The man stared blankly at his own hand for a heartbeat—then the delayed scream arrived.
"Aaaah—my hand! My haaand!"
The others were still reeling when the axe and the spiked mace came down with murderous force, aimed straight for Ray Chu's skull.
And again—no one could see him do anything.
The axe handle and the mace snapped back even faster than they'd swung, slamming into their wielders. Bone fragments and blood sprayed. The axeman's skull caved in; even if he lived, the rest of his life would be spent with his face crushed inward.
Still, he was luckier than the one with the mace.
A dark-red iron spike—an inch or so long—punched clean through that man's forehead and burst out the back of his skull. He didn't even make a sound as he toppled backward.
It was the first time in his life Ray Chu had taken lives—and he felt nothing at all.
He believed in wiping out evil at the root. When it came time to purge the wicked, he didn't do it with words.
"M-Monster!"
They hadn't seen so much as a twitch, yet their own people were dropping one after another. Panic exploded through Ganlu Town's scum. Shotguns thundered—bang, bang, bang—firing wildly at Ray Chu.
This time, they finally saw him move.
His hands flashed through the air so fast no one could follow them. He made a series of quick snatching motions and every bullet vanished.
"N… no way…"
One of the shotgun men swallowed hard. He knew exactly how strong his modified shotgun was. From dozens of meters away, it could blow a man's head apart. And right now, they weren't even five meters apart.
So when Ray Chu opened his hands and revealed the bullets—now visibly deformed from being caught—every last shred of resistance snapped in the bandit's mind.
Thud!
Some threw down their weapons and ran. Some took one look at Ray Chu and dropped to their knees to beg. More—too stupid to know fear, convinced violence solved everything—charged him in a suicidal rush.
"He's only one man! Kill him!"
"Monster! Taste my righteous head-chopping axe!"
Against this pack of rabid chickens, Ray Chu had no habit of wasting time.
He flicked the bullets into the air. Both hands rose, ten fingers bending and snapping out like a pianist playing a rapid, elegant run.
With that force behind them, the bullets spun at high speed, whipping across dozens of meters and punching precisely into bodies ahead. Screams rose—high, low, ragged—while the bandits who'd been swaggering moments ago dropped one by one into spreading pools of blood.
Of course, since it was his first time using this technique, not everyone died instantly. A few weren't hit in vital spots and clung to life.
But in a desert with no doctors or medicine, their wounds would fester soon enough—and then they'd die anyway.
Besides, judging by what they'd been doing, this clearly wasn't their first time. Ray Chu had no sympathy to spare for people like this.
With cold intent to eradicate the rot completely, he turned his eyes to the figure already sprinting dozens of meters away—the "mayor," likely the gang's leader.
As the ringleader, he received special attention: Ray Chu allotted him two bullets.
Yet this world really did have something to it. Even a petty bandit chief had startling reflexes and raw muscle power—he narrowly dodged one shot, and the other only tore into his arm, missing a fatal spot.
This instance's description had…
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T/N: heuheuheuheu ill touich ray chu come to mommy
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