Clang—!
In the wide, empty warehouse complex, the workers on duty recoiled in terror and scattered away from the area.
The harsh shriek of metal striking metal rang out again and again, and bright bursts of flame flashed repeatedly through the air.
A Feline woman—dressed provocatively and locked in a brutal fight—hardened her expression and swung her long blade forward with savage force, driving back the opponent holding her in stalemate.
Panting, she swept her gaze across the crowd that had fully surrounded her—dozens of figures gripping knives and clubs—then let her injured arm hang limp at her side as she kept the saber in her other hand.
The tables had turned.
Not long ago, she'd led her own people to encircle Penguin Logistics and humiliate them. Now she was the one trapped in a dead end.
"Damn it… how the hell do those Bloodhand bastards from District 18 dare come here and provoke us?"
Blood streamed relentlessly from the wound on her arm, and exhaustion seeped deeper into her battered body.
The sisters who'd come with her were already down—strewn across the ground, their fates unclear. Only she remained standing, fighting alone.
She glared at the Vouivre woman who had clearly been leading this assault—the same one who'd been trading blows with her—and demanded loudly, refusing to show weakness even now:
"Do you have any idea what the consequences of this will be?!"
"Oh, we know," the Vouivre woman replied, casually dusting grime off her clothes. She hoisted her blood-smeared spear onto her shoulder, and a chilling smile spread across her handsome face.
"We just know that soon, Lungmen's District 19 will be renamed… District Bloodhand."
"You're only the beginning, Wildcat. Before long, all those cash-cow shops in your territory will belong to us too."
So it really was a declaration of war.
Wildcat wasn't surprised by that. What shocked her was their nerve—the sheer audacity to come for District 19 at all.
District 18 was a cesspool of competing factions, never ruled by one underground power for long. Today it might be the Bloodhand Gang; tomorrow it could be the Bloodfoot Gang for all anyone knew.
And precisely because it was so chaotic, even if they drooled over District 19's money-printing entertainment streets, they'd never dared to light the fuse of an outright war.
"You're wondering why we'd dare make a move?" the Vouivre woman laughed. "Because your Fire Dragon has already left the Hungry Wolves. Why wouldn't we strike now?"
"What…?"
Even the filth on her face couldn't hide Wildcat's fear. Her weakened body staggered half a step.
"…So you've planted a mole inside us."
She gripped her saber tighter, her mood sinking straight into the abyss.
The news had only circulated among Hungry Wolves' upper ranks yesterday—and today outsiders were already using it.
That meant the traitor wasn't just some low-level nobody. They'd climbed into the core. Maybe they'd even been standing behind Hungry Wolf when she spoke with Fire Dragon, watching everything.
And as if confident Wildcat would die here, the Vouivre woman stepped closer, spear in hand, closing the distance with leisurely contempt.
The reeking, grime-smeared spearhead tapped lightly against Wildcat's fierce face.
"Hungry Wolf… the gang that rose by leaning on a man," the Vouivre woman said, voice thick with mockery. "Tell me—do you really think we're afraid of you?"
"Not just us. All of Lungmen. Even the gangs in the slums. Everyone's been waiting to laugh at you."
The spear tip traced along Wildcat's cheek, leaving thin, vivid lines of blood.
Wildcat looked like she wanted to bite the woman's throat out.
The Vouivre woman savored it—the intoxicating thrill of humiliating someone who could do nothing about it.
Addictive.
"You've had it too good for too long, kitten," she said softly. "You were like a man holding a gun called Fire Dragon—threatening, screaming, swallowing an entire district."
"But once this so-called Hungry Wolves 'man' loses Fire Dragon—once he loses the gun in his hand—he becomes a fat sheep on the butcher's block."
Thud—!
"Gah—!"
The Vouivre woman drove a full-force punch into Wildcat's abdomen. Wildcat's face contorted as blood burst from her mouth, and she collapsed to her knees.
It hurt.
It hurt like someone had stabbed a knife into her gut and twisted it again and again, wrenching her insides into knots.
Getting hit by a Vouivre like that… was no joke.
But—
"Ptoo!"
Wildcat spat bloody saliva straight onto the Vouivre woman's smiling face—then laughed, hoarse and pained, utterly reckless despite the danger.
"Hahaha… what's wrong? Hesitating?"
"Aren't you going to kill this 'fat sheep'?"
"Your sisters are watching you, you coward. You talk so big—are you still afraid that a gang 'propped up by a man' might take revenge? Hahahahaha!"
The warehouse yard fell unnaturally quiet.
Even the women closing in around them swallowed hard and unconsciously stepped back.
Under that suffocating silence, the Vouivre woman calmly wiped her face clean, looking down at Wildcat with a long, weary sigh.
"Sigh… how boring."
"I wanted to play a little longer."
Whoosh—!
The spear ripped through the air. A violent gust followed, tearing at Wildcat's blood-soaked skin like fangs.
Seeing the crimson spearhead rushing toward her at point-blank range, Wildcat's taut body suddenly slackened.
She closed her eyes.
Relief—terror-soaked, exhausted relief—escaped her in a single breath.
Sorry, Boss. I'm actually… really afraid of pain.
Clang—!
"What—?!"
Sparks exploded outward.
A razor-sharp, ear-splitting crash of metal on metal detonated in front of her.
A sword.
A silver-black longsword that looked like a work of art—effortlessly stopping the Vouivre woman's killing thrust.
The sound was so deafening that Wildcat's mind went blank for a beat. Then she slowly opened her eyes, staring dumbly at the familiar back now standing between her and death.
"Fire Dragon… sir?"
"Hey," a lazy voice said, almost amused. "How'd you end up this pathetic?"
A slight twist of the wrist—
—and the Vouivre woman, who had just crushed Wildcat with a single blow, was flung backward, launched into the distance.
Chen Mo had arrived.
The Vouivre woman's face tightened instantly. Both hands clamped down on her spear as if it were the only thing anchoring her in reality.
A cold bead of sweat slid down her cheek.
"Fire Dragon… didn't you leave the Hungry Wolves?"
Her words detonated panic among the surrounding thugs.
"Fire Dragon? The one from the rumors?!"
"He's that pretty—yeah, it has to be him…"
"What are you scared of?! He's just a man! Everyone together—grab him!"
But the Vouivre woman didn't take the bait.
She hadn't climbed to her position on brute strength alone.
She'd heard the stories: Fire Dragon had wiped out every other gang in District 19, the flames raging so violently they burned for an entire day and night.
The flawless silver-haired underworld man.
The one everyone feared and coveted.
The "gun" Hungry Wolf used to intimidate every rival.
A man who incinerated enemies in seconds—cold, ruthless, absolute.
Remembering the rumors—and the stern warning from the real power behind her—she swallowed hard. Her palms grew damp around the spear.
Does a monster like that… really exist?
Chen Mo ignored the chaos and the trembling Vouivre. Instead, he weighed the sword in his hand, then nodded with satisfaction.
"Yeah. Quality's solid."
He glanced at Wildcat—badly hurt, but not dead—then flicked a hand at her in a casual dismissal.
"Get moving. You're in that condition and you're still standing here? Don't get in my way while I work."
"…Thank you, Fire Dragon," Wildcat rasped.
Knowing she was only a burden now, she dragged her wrecked body away, step by step, toward the distance.
No one tried to stop her.
At this point, every gaze was locked on the man standing there so calmly.
Wildcat didn't worry about Chen Mo's safety.
Compared to him, what worried her more was that if the Bloodhand Gang got wiped out completely, there'd be no one left to interrogate—no trail to follow.
One man taking on a dozen armed enemies… maybe some people could do it.
But the Fire Dragon—who arrived like a natural disaster wrapped in flame—
He definitely could.
-------
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