You're Strong, Sir, but My Art Style Is Above Yours!

"You beast..."

"Hahaha~ I started killing people when I was six. At twelve, I killed the first woman I slept with. At fourteen, I burned to death those filthy student commoners who kept me from sleeping, then violated the principal's wife and daughter right in front of him—am I a beast or what?

But my father told me:

Son, it's fine. Kill whoever you want, fuck whoever you want, because you're the son of Minister Honest. There's no law in this Empire that can judge you!"

Syura sneered. "Those filthy commoners were born to serve heavenly geniuses like me. Anyone who displeases me deserves to be tortured to death!"

"This is great~"

"What a domineering thing to say~"

"How about this? Let's play a game. If you win, I'll let you go. If you lose..."

Syura glanced at the curtain and said confidently, "I bet there's definitely a lot of cilantro in his noodles."

"Th-that's not fair!" The cousin forced back her tears. "Even if there's only one piece, you'll say there's 'a lot'!"

"Yeah, it's not fair. You want to talk fairness with me? Are you worthy?"

"Hahaha!"

The others laughed as well, as if eagerly awaiting what would happen next.

The agonizing seconds ticked by. Under the cousin's terrified gaze, the shop owner set a large steaming bowl of noodle soup on the table.

"Here you go, braised beef noodles!"

"Hmph~"

Syura and the others peered into the bowl with confidence, only for their expressions to freeze.

There really wasn't a single piece of cilantro in it. Instead, out of kindness, the owner had added plenty of braised beef. The rich aroma was mouthwatering.

"Whew..." The cousin let out a long breath, feeling as though she had survived a disaster.

The lackeys silently looked at Syura. After a pause, the brown-skinned young man suddenly threw back his head and laughed wildly. "I don't eat beef!"

With that, a gleaming dagger stabbed toward the shop owner's throat—

Rip!

A torrent of blood sprayed out, crimson dyeing Syura's vision.

"Hahaha... huh?"

Why... was the shop owner still standing there?

No... why did it hurt so much?!

Plop!

A severed hand clutching a dagger fell into the scalding soup pot, sending up a burst of steam. The brown-skinned young man's eyes widened in disbelief.

"My—my hand! That's my hand! You bastard, aaahhh!!!"

One of the three mysterious cloaked figures at another table had somehow appeared beside the shop owner and his cousin. He slowly lowered his bloodstained blade.

"I hate people who waste food the most. How dare you!"

Iori spoke regretfully. "Take this bowl of pig's trotter noodles outside and feed it to the dogs."

Chapter 31: Guh, Can We Make Peace?

The situation changed abruptly. In the blink of an eye, Syura, who had been grinning viciously just moments ago, clutched his forearm and screamed. Blood flooded the entire tabletop, splattering all three of the others across the face.

"Bastard!"

The sinister young man kicked the table over. Scalding soup spilled from the pot, and the petrified shop owner and cousin had no time to dodge. Just as they were about to be drenched, Iori reached out and yanked them backward, pulling them out of harm's way.

Before Iori could turn around, a fierce gust of wind struck. A heavy spinning kick landed squarely on his chest, sending him flying backward with both feet off the ground.

Before the attacker—Syura—could celebrate, his ankle suddenly tightened. In that fleeting opening, Iori had grabbed it, destroying his balance in the process.

Bang!

Using the impact to cushion himself, Iori planted his feet firmly in a bow stance. His battle-hardened martial arts were displayed to perfection. His five fingers clamped down like hooked claws, refusing to let go. Power surged from his waist, his limbs and torso becoming one unified whole as he unleashed it in a single burst!

Whoosh—boom!

The muscular Syura was flung like a child, sweeping through half an arc like a ragged sack before crashing heavily into the solid wall, leaving a web of fine cracks.

At the same time, Iori leaned back without a thought. His flexible waist muscles tensed, his upper body nearly parallel to the floor. Then an invisible vacuum blade swept past his eyes, cleanly slicing apart a long table three meters away.

"He dodged it?!" the sinister young man who had launched the attack cried out in surprise.

"Gah!"

Syura hit the ground. Already missing a hand, he was now even more badly injured. He felt that not only his bones, but perhaps even his internal organs had been damaged.

Having never suffered such a loss before, Syura nearly ground his teeth to pieces. Believing he had nothing to fear, he looked over the battlefield and discovered that aside from the sinister young man, his other two subordinates had not joined the fight.

"Izou! What are you doing? Hurry up and cut this bastard down with Enshin!"

Syura was furious. That woman—Kosmiya—had a Teigu suited for area attacks, so it truly was ill-suited for this kind of melee. But Izou was a top expert he had recruited during his travels. Syura had settled countless murder cases and lawsuits for him, yet now he refused to help?

"Lord Syura, I am already helping."

Yet Izou looked perfectly composed. The black-haired, black-eyed swordsman, whose gaze carried a murderous madness, gripped his sword hilt and stood ready. But his target was not Iori—it was the two people at another table.

Though it could not be seen with the naked eye, the two sides' killing intent had locked onto each other. Victory or defeat would be decided in an instant. If Izou moved rashly, he would lose the initiative, and the same was true of his opponents.

The gorgeous Kosmiya was the most uneasy of them all. She knew Izou's strength well, and anyone who could make him wary was surely a swordsman of comparable caliber.

Her Melee Combat ability was average. If she were ambushed at such close range... Izou might be able to handle it, but there was an eighty-percent chance she could not. So she remained motionless, waiting for Izou to attack first and draw their attention so she could escape.

"Are there others?"

Only then did Syura remember that the bastard who had cut off his hand had companions... Judging by this, they were no ordinary passersby or foreign spies.

To dispatch so many experts at once, they had to be assassins from the Revolutionary Army!

In that brief distraction, Enshin had already been driven into a desperate position by Iori within a few exchanges and was about to collapse. Then, from the corner of his eye, Syura spotted the shop owner and cousin trembling in the corner.

A vicious idea immediately flashed through his mind. Just as he tried to rise, searing pain shot through his right foot.

Iori's earlier grip had crushed his ankle!

What terrifying finger strength! Even the martial monks of the Imperial Fist Temple who specialized in finger techniques might not be capable of such force!

Syura's heart trembled. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand...

"Everyone, stop!"

Syura pressed his severed wrist against the cousin's neck while pointing his intact left hand at Iori. "Didn't you want to save these two? If you don't stop now, I'll snap her neck at once!"

"Help me!" the cousin screamed miserably.

"What—"

Iori, who had been exchanging blades with Enshin, suddenly froze. Grief and fury appeared on his face. "You despicable coward!"

"Ha!"

Syura was overjoyed. Another idiot fooled by the Revolutionary Army's propaganda. He actually cares about the lives of these filthy commoners.

Good. Since you have weaknesses, you're destined to be controlled. Just wait and see how I deal with you!

That woman you want to save—I'll properly enjoy her right in front of you!

Enshin, who had barely been holding on, also revealed a secretly delighted expression when he saw this—

Zheng!

A flash of sword light separated the sinister young man's head from his body. Drops of blood sprayed through the air, reflecting Iori's icy gaze.

"Enshin... you—"

Ding!

Pain struck the back of Syura's neck. His vision suddenly blurred, and his hand abruptly felt lighter. Somehow, the wailing cousin had escaped from his grasp.

"What's going on..."

A numb sensation spread from the back of his neck. Syura was clearly conscious, yet his body would not obey him. Like a drunkard, he stumbled backward and fell.

No! Something was very wrong with him!

Syura might have been scum, but he was experienced scum. He immediately recognized that he had been poisoned.

Severe wounds and poison—this was no time to stubbornly hold on. He had to escape!

Instinctively, he reached for a hidden pocket on his body... then froze.

"It's gone?"

He frantically searched elsewhere, growing more panicked with every touch.

"It's gone? Gone? How could it be gone?!"

His Teigu—Dimensional Square Array · Shangri-La—was missing!

"Could it have been during the fight... impossible!"

Having lost his greatest support, Syura instantly panicked. Even when his hand had been cut off earlier, he had only been furious, never as anxious as he was now.

Shangri-La was a rare spatial Teigu. With it in hand, Syura could advance or retreat freely. No matter how dire the situation, he could withdraw calmly.

It was precisely because of this confidence that Syura had always thought himself extraordinary. He had never feared even the legendary Imperial General or the strongest Teigu users.

Though he had just arrived and had not had time to set any markers, making it difficult to use in battle, escaping should at least have been no problem.

—but now it was gone!

Severely wounded, Syura suddenly felt a lethal threat!

"This... was it you? You bitch!"

Syura raised his head resentfully. The timid, weak cousin had long since replaced her expression with one of cold indifference, looking down on him with the contempt one might show an insect.

On the other side, that "cousin" had also shed his honest, simple disguise. He picked up an iron hammer hidden behind the counter and walked over.

"You never thought someone who looks down on women would ultimately fall into a woman's hands, did you?"

Bang~

A cloud of smoke dispersed, and the plainly dressed village girl transformed into a fashionable, beautiful young woman with long light-crimson hair.

She flipped her hand over, and as though performing a magic trick, a flat box engraved with a Bagua Yin-Yang fish appeared in her palm.

It was Syura's Teigu!

"The Faceless One was right. You really are the kind of guy who gets careless the moment he gets carried away, then gets killed in a reversal—nothing but a paper tiger."

"You dare steal my things, you bitch! I'll sell you to a military camp and make you breed like a sow!"

"You're still saying things like that? What a spoiled young master... So many innocent people, all because of people like you..."

By then, the shop owner had walked up beside Syura and raised his iron hammer.

"Wait! What are you doing?! Do you know who I am? My father is the Chief Min—aaahhh!!"

Bang!

The iron hammer mercilessly shattered his right knee.

"They said they wanted him alive, but leaving only his mouth should be fine, right? After all, it would be troublesome if he escaped."

"How could someone as noble as me be in a place like this, at the hands of filthy commoners like you—aaaaahhh!!!"

Bang!

This time, it was the five fingers of his left hand.

"Yamete! I'll cooperate with you! Stop already!"

Syura swallowed. "Guh, can we make peace?"

"Are you joking at a time like this?"

The shop owner raised the iron hammer again—