"That flat red paper one is mine." Bai Zhu glanced at Hisoka. "The heap of assorted meat underneath should be enough to keep you busy."
Hisoka licked his lips, his eyes gleaming. "Gladly."
Before he had finished speaking, Bai Zhu stepped forward. He did not bother with Hadō or Bakudō this time. His right hand went straight to his sword hilt.
A twist of his wrist, and the long blade slid free. Its edge pointed diagonally at the ground.
"All Things in the Universe, turn to ash. Ryujin Jakka."
Flames erupted skyward. In less than half a second, the asphalt street had nearly melted into black glass.
Bai Zhu kicked off the ground and hurtled toward the Flesh Mountain that filled half the street, trailing a long tail of fire.
A slit opened in the Red Paper Figure atop the Flesh Mountain, and it let out a piercing shriek. More than a dozen misshapen arms, each thicker than a water tank, thrust out of the rotten flesh and grabbed at Bai Zhu in midair.
Bai Zhu did not dodge.
Slash!
It was an ordinary horizontal cut. A line of fire swept through the arms, and the heat vaporized them before they could even give off a charred smell.
With one stroke clearing his path, Bai Zhu landed in the middle of the Flesh Mountain. He reversed his grip and slashed again, straight at the Red Paper Figure on top.
The Red Paper Figure slipped swiftly into a split in the flesh, but the edge of the sword's wind still scorched it, drawing a strange sound like air leaking from a ball. The Flesh Mountain began to writhe wildly, as though trying to drag Bai Zhu into its mass of rotting, stitched-together meat.
Bai Zhu stepped through bursts of flame and