Although little Rope knew Jeanne was powerful, her impression was limited to the speed Jeanne displayed while chasing her. She didn't have a deep understanding of Jeanne's actual combat prowess.
But now, looking at the "zombies" lying on the ground, unable to get up, and then glancing back at the deep craters smashed into the pavement by Jeanne, she could only gape in stunned silence.
Just moments ago, as those zombie-like fellows were sprinting this way, they spotted the two of them. In that instant, they turned and launched an attack. Little Rope, who had been yanked behind Jeanne, thought this would surely be a fierce, uphill battle. Instead, Jeanne ended the fight as decisively as a god descending to the mortal realm, resolving the threat in a heartbeat.
As for the process of the battle? little Rope felt she could only describe it as a one-sided massacre. It seemed there was no challenge at all for Jeanne. She had simply grabbed them—much like the Hulk slamming Loki—and smashed them repeatedly into the ground until their bones were shattered and they could no longer move.
"So strong... with strength like yours, if you had punched me back then, I feel like my life would have reached its conclusion right then and there. I'd probably be a pancake by now."
Looking at the victims of Jeanne's violent output, little Rope felt incredibly grateful for her own principle of "seeking wealth but not harming people" and not resisting after being caught. It had saved her life. She silently offered three seconds of mourning for the "warriors" who had dared to test Jeanne's limits.
No wonder Jeanne had been so calm when she saw these monsters, without even an exclamation of surprise. It turned out she simply looked down on the power these people had risked their lives to obtain!
little Rope stared blankly at Jeanne's arms, which were about as slender as her own. She couldn't understand how they could look the same, yet have such a massive disparity in power. If their arms were the same size, where did Jeanne hide the muscles required for such strength? Surely she wasn't hiding them behind that "heavy frontal armor" of hers?
"I can't put a finger on why, but I can feel the way you're looking at me. You can't hide the weirdness in those eyes."
Jeanne looked at little Rope, who was scanning her body up and down, with a touch of helplessness. From the expression on the girl's face, Jeanne could guess her thoughts weren't exactly normal. However, she was used to it. Most people wouldn't believe a slender, elegant person possessed the strength of a titan until they saw it with their own eyes.
Common sense dictated that one's physique indicated their strength—much like how one look at Talulah would tell you she couldn't beat Patriot in an arm-wrestling match. But Jeanne was an exception. Her physical stats couldn't be estimated by her build. She was one of the few in the entire vanguard who could actually hold her own in a test of strength against Patriot.
Tap, tap, tap... tap... tap...
Before little Rope could say anything, light footsteps echoed nearby once more. The footsteps, initially hurried, began to slow down as they approached. The newcomer's steps were extremely light; an average person wouldn't have heard them. But between Jeanne's extraordinary hearing and little Rope's professional instincts as a thief, both picked up the approaching presence.
Jeanne gave little Rope a look, signaling her to move further back. If a fight broke out, Jeanne didn't want to be unable to protect her from stray injuries. little Rope understood immediately and retreated into the alley. The footsteps became even slower, nearing the corner.
Both sides were now fully aware of the other's presence, yet neither knew if the other was friend or foe. They waited, vigilant, for the right moment. It was like a standoff in a Western film; neither knew when the other would draw, but both wanted to be the first to fire.
Seeing that the enemy wasn't making a move, Jeanne—confident in her power—pushed off with her legs and vanished like the wind, launching a proactive strike. The people on the other side only saw a gust of black wind before a woman in black efficiently subdued them and confiscated their weapons.
"A... a woman? You probably aren't affiliated with the gangs, right? We are here to 'clean up' these gang members. If there's a misunderstanding, please stop."
Jeanne noticed that these people clearly had nothing to do with the two gangs from the brawl. The reason was simple: the race was entirely different. According to little Rope, one gang was purely Ursus, and the other was a mix of Feline and Lupo.
These people, however, didn't belong to either. They likely came from a higher organization. The massive rat ears atop their heads made it quite clear: they were subordinates of the Rat King.
This "anthropomorphic Mickey Mouse" look was rare in the mixed-up slums, and seeing so many at once explained everything. Most Zalaks running the underworld in Lungmen chose to swear fealty to the "Gray Lin," the Rat King of the slums. Out of kinship, the Rat King would provide them with a living.
"We are just passing through and have no intention of joining this fight. If you're looking for the ones who ran away, they're in those pits over there."
Jeanne didn't lower her guard; she didn't know if they were telling the truth. She stood there, staring at the Zalaks, waiting to see their next move. Meanwhile, other members of the cleanup crew heard the commotion and rushed over to see what was happening.
These gang members in black suits gathered, looking warily at the suddenly appearing Jeanne. They couldn't figure out her identity. If she was a mercenary hired by the other gangs, she didn't look the part. Someone with her speed could have swept through those "trash fish" easily; the battle wouldn't have been so bloody. But calling her a random passerby... they couldn't commit to that either. A fresh face with this level of strength in the slums was highly suspicious.
"In that case, we must ask you to wait a moment. Once we finish processing this, we will inquire about your situation."
A man who appeared to be the captain spoke up, trying to ease the tension. He chose to temporarily believe Jeanne and intended to complete the mission without starting a fight if possible. They felt that a peaceful resolution was best—mostly because, looking at the situation, they weren't sure they could actually win against her.
Jeanne nodded in agreement. She walked back into the alley and brought out the hiding little Rope. Behind her, a few subordinates raised their firearms and glanced at their leader, silently asking if they should take the chance while her back was turned to strike first.
The captain weighed the options and ultimately rejected the idea of a "cold arrow." First, he wasn't sure he could subdue her. Second, since the other party chose to trust them, they had to uphold their code of honor, even as mobsters.
He led his men into the alley and saw the targets lying on the ground like dead dogs, surrounded by craters made from their own bodies. They were shocked; they had still underestimated Jeanne's strength. The men threw admiring glances at their leader. If they had fired that shot and failed to incapacitate her, they'd be in the same state as those guys—or worse.
"What are you looking at me for? Get to work!"
The captain barked in a low voice, wiping non-existent cold sweat from his forehead. He thanked his cautious nature for saving his life once again.