Old Goldhead, Your Son's Right Here!

On the right side of the ruins, Saeko Busujima swung her knife into the shoulder blade of a clone, the Blade tracing along the gaps in the bone, and the entire mechanical arm detached from the torso.

This is the Bone-and-Flesh Separation Method that Sing Sing taught her, avoiding direct confrontation and using the least effort to dismantle the joints.

As the blade sliced through the tissue, the resistance from her palm kept her awake, even giving rise to a somewhat unspeakable sense of satisfaction.

Saeko Busujima was unwilling to admit it, but the Beast hidden in her heart had feasted to its heart's content here.

Whether it was enjoyment or sin, at least every slash she wielded was to save lives.

A clone with four arms stepped over the remains of its kind, and gears in its chest cavity drove bone blades to slash down alternately.

Saeko Busujima held the sword horizontally to her shoulder, catching the first blow, and used the momentum to twist her wrist outward.

The opponent's arm struck another bone blade. She pressed close to his torso, the tip of the blade penetrating under his ribs and severing the line connecting to his spine.

The continuous slashing had drained his strength, and the numbing effect from the nerve-soothing drug returned.

Saeko Busujima drew her sword and retreated, but her shoe stepped on a broken cable, causing her to stumble.

A clone that had been crawling close to the ground propped itself up, its spinal mechanical structure unfolding in succession, and bone spurs hidden inside piercing towards its heart from behind.

Saeko Busujima forcibly twisted her body, a look of resentment flashing in her eyes.

A figure bumped into her side, and both of them lost their balance and fell in different directions.

Akira Saeko Busujima Meimiya Akihiro aside with his shoulder and took the place where the bone spur had originally passed.

Bone spurs pierced his back, penetrated his chest, and continued to extend outwards.

Hot blood splattered on Saeko Busujima's face, dripping down her eyelashes and chin.

"Ming Palace!"

She knelt up, supporting herself with the knife, and grabbed Meimiya Akihiro's collar, forcibly pulling him off the bone spike.

After losing the support of the bone spurs, the laceration on Meimiya Akihiro's chest opened completely.

Saeko Busujima could even see the lungs through the bloody hole. She pressed her hands against the wound, but blood still gushed from between her fingers.

"Look at me, don't close your eyes! Since you rushed here to save people, you'd better keep your life!"

Meimiya Akihiro could no longer hear her words; all he could see was a shimmering dark red.

He didn't understand why he rushed out; he only remembered that Saeko Busujima had a group of injured classmates behind her.

The body makes choices before the mind; after practicing Aikido for so many years, it can't just be used to compete for rankings at school, can it?

But now it seems that the choice of which opportunity to leverage was extremely poor; they even lost their own lives in the process.

His heartbeat paused for a few seconds, and a muffled thud came from deep within his chest.

The wound beneath Saeko Busujima's palm began to heat up, the severed blood vessels contracted inward, and the ruptured lung lobe was also enveloped by granulation tissue.

The granulation tissue intertwined wildly, first filling the bloody hole that pierced the chest, then pulling the torn skin back into place.

The gushing blood stopped, and even her hand, which she had pressed against the wound, was pushed away by the healing tissue.

Saeko Busujima raised her blood-stained hand in astonishment, her gaze falling on Meimiya Akihiro's chest, where there wasn't even a scar.

Meimiya Akihiro arched his body upwards, and the sound squeezed out of his throat gradually turned into Beast- like roar.

"Ahh!"

He clenched his fists, the skin on the back of his hands was torn open by the sharp bones growing inside, and blood flowed down his fingers to his wrists.

Two sharp, white bone spikes emerged from the back of his left hand, and the same blades followed closely behind in his right.

Before Saeko Busujima could call out to him, Meimiya Akihiro had already turned and pounced on the attacking clone.

The bone spike pierced the monster's lower jaw, penetrated its skull, and tore it apart to the sides, splitting its head in two.

Another clone raised its mechanical arm and smashed it down on the back of his head, Meimiya Akihiro didn't even turn around to defend himself.

The mechanical bone blade sliced open his shoulder and back; before the wound had even finished gushing blood, new tissue was already being squeezed out from within.

Meimiya Akihiro thrust his hand back into the opponent's abdominal cavity, the bone spurs gripping the mechanical spine, pulling the gears and fascia out of the body together.

Two more clones surrounded him, and he charged into the middle of them, facing the bone blades, letting the sharp weapons pierce through his abdomen and thigh.

Each wound closed between attacks; those injuries, enough to kill an ordinary person, only made him more ferocious.

His fighting style no longer bears any trace of Aikido; it is nothing but a savage slaughter where injuries are exchanged for lives.

Sing Sing had just finished clearing out a group of clones and arrived here when his peripheral vision was drawn to those bloody bone spikes.

Healing Factor, bone spurs on the back of the hand—isn't this just a low-budget version of Wolverine?

Meimiya Akihiro, Daken

Sing Sing recalled the birth records Liu Jianyi had found; Itsu had given birth to a baby boy at full term that year.

The child moved to Tokyo with his mother and subsequently lost his household registration. His age also perfectly matched that of Meimiya Akihiro.

When he was compiling the publicly available student roster, he also looked at the Ming Palace's records. The father's column was blank, and the mother had disappeared in her early years.

Previously, this information was scattered in different places, but now those few bone spurs have connected all the clues.

"Old Goldhead, you've had your own son right under my nose for so long, and I didn't even recognize him!"

Sing Sing wiped the blood splattered on his face. The thought of recognizing his relatives had just surfaced when it was suppressed by the loud noise coming from underground.

On the other side of the playground, Logan also smelled that odor.

The stench of blood carried the same life force as him, along with a name buried deep in his memory for many years.

Itsu.

Fragmented images flashed through Logan's mind: the wooden house, the paper door, and the woman who sewed his clothes.

The Silver Samurai seized the moment when he was distracted and cut him down with a single stroke.

"You dare look away while fighting me? Logan, you're still as arrogant as ever!"

Broken bricks rolled down, Logan pulled his arm out of the hole in the wall, but his gaze remained fixed on Meimiya Akihiro, who was wielding bone spikes.

He saw the boy pierced by a sharp blade, saw the wound heal, and saw those irrational eyes.

Even the roars he made when he was angry were exactly the same as when he was young.

"Itsu, what are you hiding from me?"

Now is not the time to press for answers. The Silver Samurai will not give him the chance to acknowledge his family, and the clone will not wait for the child to regain his senses.

Another impact came from below the old school building, and the gap that was originally only wide enough for one person to pass through was completely forced open by the internal forces.

Sing Sing tucked the Pig Butchering Knife behind his back and impatiently unbuttoned the top two buttons of his Zhongshan suit.

It was too late to continue cutting them down one by one; he only had enough time to unleash one palm strike.

He rushed up to Ichirai Hisako, "Hisako-chan, grab my arm and throw me up high! Throw me as high as you can, don't hold back!"

Ichirai Hisako froze, wearing a transparent demon mask helmet, looking completely bewildered.

"Ha?"

The shock from the suppressor on the back of her neck made her tremble, but she still obediently nodded.

"Good."

After saying that, Hisako grabbed Sing Sing's arm and spun him around three times like she was swinging a sledgehammer.

With a loud shout, she flung Sing Sing into the air like a shot put.

As Sing Sing soared upwards, he felt the powerful airflow, exhaled the turbid air from his chest, and let the Inner Qi dantian flow along the meridians into his arms. Golden light spread outwards from the edge of his palms in concentric circles.

He flipped over in mid-air, head down, and pushed out with one palm.

"The Ninth Form of the Tathagata Divine Palm: Ten Thousand Buddhas Pay Homage to the Supreme to the Ancestor!"