Wave after wave of unbearable heat slammed into them head-on.
Searing flames had somehow already sealed off the entire open lot. The sudden spike in temperature forced the already-on-edge Vouivre woman to retreat a few steps, instinctively shrinking away.
The jeering that had been aimed at the Fire Dragon faltered for a beat. The armed female thugs exchanged looks—each of them catching the same flicker of doubt in the other's eyes.
"Why does it suddenly feel so hot?"
"You're kidding… It's winter."
"Who cares? Boss, hurry up and grab that man already!"
A bunch of idiots.
She didn't dare look away. Didn't dare relax for even a moment.
The Vouivre's nerves were stretched to the snapping point—so tight she could feel the scorching air licking at her skin. Burning it.
So the rumors were true…
Unable to bear the pressure any longer, she shouted at Chen Mo as he approached with sword in hand, strolling toward her at an infuriatingly unhurried pace.
"Didn't you quit the Hungry Wolf Gang, Fire Dragon?! Why are you meddling? Why are you saving their lapdog?!"
"Because I'm not doing charity," Chen Mo said, stopping in his tracks with a dismissive click of his tongue. "If this were before, I'd have watched you kill that cat, then come out and kill you all afterward."
He shrugged, utterly casual.
"But what can I do? My weapon was bought with money from that she-wolf you hate so much. So this time I'll begrudgingly help her deal with you—and save one person while I'm at it."
What…?
The noisy chaos around them died in an instant.
Even the Vouivre—who'd been tense, poised to flee at the first opening—froze where she stood.
So much bloodshed. So many fights. The Bloodhand Gang's long-cherished ambition. A plan countless Lungmen gangs had spent ages laying down.
They'd poured in resources and manpower, even sacrificed sisters, all to place a mole deep enough to obtain the intelligence they needed—
And that man—standing there with that relaxed, almost bored air—
He was about to crush all of it…
For a joke of a reason.
Three million Lungmen dollars.
With that flippant tone, that careless attitude—he intended to wipe them out? Shatter the dream they'd been clinging to?
Like the stillness before a storm, silence hung for a heartbeat—then the fury exploded.
"Get him, boss! I'm gonna kill that bastard!"
"Damn it—he's just a man! Why's he acting so cocky?!"
"I can't take it anymore! Everyone—grab that—[Lungmen profanity]!"
Roars and curses rose into the air along with the thunder of heavy footsteps. Armed women surged forward with all kinds of blades and weapons, charging straight at Chen Mo—who yawned as though he'd been dragged out of bed.
Their effort was being trampled. Their ambition mocked.
Even the Vouivre felt her blood boiling, swept up by the collective rage of her sisters. She lifted her blood-smeared spear overhead, voice surging as she rallied them.
"Sisters! Show that Fire Dragon that gang warfare—our struggle, our dream—"
"It's not something a man can—"
Boom—
"AAAAAH!"
The stench of charred flesh was nauseating. Screams erupted without end.
Fire. Endless, merciless fire—forming an octagonal cage like the pit of an underground fighting arena—locked everyone inside.
No escape.
No resistance.
All around, people wailed and writhed in orange flames. The thugs who had been moments ago brimming with swagger and bloodlust were reduced, in the blink of an eye, to foul, reeking piles of black ash.
The heat slammed up again. Sweat poured down the Vouivre's face; the blood on her spearhead evaporated in an instant, along with the last of her bravado.
She stared, blank-eyed, as Chen Mo calmly withdrew his sword. Only when the beautiful man approached her did she finally begin to regain awareness.
What… just happened?
"Nice, nice," Chen Mo said, sounding pleased with himself. "Ten experience points. Guess those were your gang's elites, huh?"
He was saying things she couldn't understand. He swung his tail with satisfaction, his refined features lit by a brilliant, almost radiant smile.
"Is today my lucky day or what? Got my precious Ash, and a surprise bonus—"
"Monster…"
Chen Mo tilted his head at the Vouivre woman's dazed murmur, genuinely puzzled.
"What are you trying to say?"
"…You monster," she whispered, eyes full of terror. "You're not Vouivre at all."
Her arms hung limp. She let her spear clatter onto the scorched ground as she stumbled backward, trying—desperately—to put distance between herself and him.
"What… what are you?"
All right. You've chosen death.
Not that Chen Mo had planned to let her live anyway.
"Why obsess over that when you're about to die?" he said lightly.
He'd been about to take her head with a single swing, but after a moment's thought he slid the blade back into its sheath instead. With a strange smile, he patted her weakly slumped shoulder.
"Hey. How about you call some backup? Maybe they can beat me and drag you out."
He wasn't being merciful. He just wanted more experience—like grinding mobs in a game, wave after wave.
And honestly? He didn't rate these gangs very highly. Even if she called more people, they'd just be delivering themselves.
Otherwise, the Hungry Wolf Gang wouldn't have dominated District 19 for so long—only for the trash to come crawling out the moment the news spread that he'd left.
"…Fine," the Vouivre said, as if she'd just been handed a perfect idea. She forced her trembling legs to obey, pulled out her phone, and made a call.
"…Come to the District 20 mall warehouse. The Hungry Wolf Gang's Fire Dragon is here. He killed all our sisters in the Bloodhand Gang."
"…Yeah. I won't run. Hurry."
Beep—beep—beep—
Silence returned.
Chen Mo waited patiently, arms crossed amid the towering ring of flames. Watching the Vouivre's unnervingly calm face, he asked with idle curiosity:
"How many people are you calling? After this wave arrives, can you call more?"
The Vouivre woman—hair singed away, skin burned raw—gave a bleak smile.
"You won't dare lay a hand on them, Fire Dragon," she said. "You won't."
Oh?
Now Chen Mo was intrigued. He couldn't help but wonder where her confidence came from.
"You didn't call the Rat King from the slums, did you?"
"…Like I could move someone like that," she said, glancing at the ash surrounding them with a soft sigh.
"The Bloodhand Gang is finished. We'll vanish from Lungmen's underworld—just like all those gangs in District 18 before us."
She paused, voice lowering.
"I don't care about gang rules anymore. I'm going to die soon anyway."
"Fire Dragon," she added, "don't blame me for being dirty."
Chen Mo's unease grew. Something felt wrong.
Beep—beep—beep—
A piercing alarm sounded.
Chen Mo froze for a split second—then saw countless uniformed officers sprinting toward them from the distance and blurted out loudly:
"You—are you kidding me?! You actually called the cops?!"
In one clean motion he drew his sword, severed the Vouivre woman's head, and burned the remains to nothing. Then he spun to run.
No joke—if he attacked the Lungmen Guard Department, he could forget about ever living peacefully in this city again.
As if the heavens were laughing at him, the moment Chen Mo tried to bolt—
A figure crashed straight through the blazing, heat-distorting ring of fire, utterly unafraid, forcing their way inside.
Chen Mo's eye twitched as he saw the familiar silhouette blocking his path. His tail sagged limply against the ground.
"You've got to be kidding me… Why does it have to be you?"
"I'm Ch'en Hui-chieh, leader of the LGD Special Inspection Unit!" the dragon woman declared. "Suspect ahead—drop your weapon, put your hands over your head, and surrender immediately!"
Once she'd adjusted to the smoke and the punishing heat, she opened her narrowed eyes and fixed them on the underworld criminal ahead.
Her severe, handsome face went slack in disbelief.
"…Sister?"
-------
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