Lame-Legged Old Man? Watch Loli Gojo Break Your Legs!

Sampo's hand stopped dead half an inch above the little girl's head.

That half inch might as well have been a wall of solid iron.

The palm of his battered leather glove touched nothing.

No hair. No cold, damp snow.

He simply couldn't push it any lower.

The ingratiating smile on Sampo's face froze.

Unwilling to believe it, he quietly pressed down with his wrist.

His fingers strained, and veins bulged on the back of his hand.

The invisible barrier didn't budge.

Instead, he pushed so hard that his feet slipped in the snow, nearly sending him sprawling face-first.

The wind and snow stopped at the invisible barrier.

Su Chen stood inside a circle of absolute stillness, frowning.

He had barely stepped off the train, and already he'd run into an overfamiliar hustler.

His long journey had left him irritable enough. This made his mood worse.

His little round sunglasses slid half an inch down his nose.

Pale blue eyes appeared above the lenses.

His gaze cut straight across Sampo's face like a blade drawn from icy water.

Su Chen bit down.

Crunch.

He crushed the last bits of his mint and swallowed them.

He lifted his chin.

"Old man with the bad knees."

His clear, childish voice rang through the snowstorm, its disgust undisguised.

"Your hand is filthy."

Sampo went still.

He'd spent years scraping by on this frozen plain. There wasn't a scam or a swindle he hadn't seen.

Yet the look in this seven- or eight-year-old girl's eyes made every hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He instinctively tried to pull his hand back.

He could try a different pitch.

Too late.

Su Chen moved.

He raised his right foot in its little black leather shoe.

The motion looked casual, like a child kicking a pebble off the road.

But a layer of deep blue Cursed Energy instantly wrapped around the shoe's toe.

The violent energy tore through the air with a sharp crack.

Bang!

The kick landed squarely.

Right on the front of Sampo's shin.

The impact was low and heavy, like a hammer slamming into a frozen wooden post.

For an instant, the dull thud drowned out even the howling storm.

Sampo's body locked in place.

His false smile shattered, and his features twisted.

His eyes bulged, their whites filling with tiny red veins.

His mouth opened wide enough to fit a fist.

But no sound came out.

The pain had driven every scrap of air from his lungs.

Only a wheeze like a broken bellows escaped his throat.

A full two seconds passed.

"Aaah—!"

A shrill scream split the silence of the snowy plain.

Sampo jerked backward like a shrimp dropped into boiling water.

His back slammed into the knee-deep snow, leaving a deep pit.

He clutched his injured right leg with both hands.

His body thrashed and rolled through the snow.

White snow coated his short blue hair, then smeared with the black mud beneath it as he rolled.

Shards of ice slashed several tears in his thin leather armor.

"It's broken! Broken! Broken!"

Sampo wailed in a ragged voice.

Tears and snot streamed down his face.

He rolled one way through the snow, then the other.

He looked like a worn-out rag tumbling inside a washing machine.

The agony in his shin made him feel as though his leg had been cut off.

Su Chen stood where he was.

Both hands rested in the pockets of his black uniform.

He looked down at the man rolling across the snow.

His little leather shoe tapped the frozen ground twice.

"Quiet."

Su Chen's voice was cold.

He took one step forward.

Limitless pushed the snow ahead of him aside, plowing a clean path through the plain.

He stopped beside Sampo's head.

Then he raised the right foot he had just used to kick him.

It hovered over Sampo's bruised face.

A little snow still clung to the sole.

"Roll again."

Su Chen spoke softly, but every word reached Sampo's ears.

"And I'll break your other leg too."

Sampo's wailing stopped at once.

He sounded like a rooster whose neck had suddenly been grabbed.

His arms froze around his leg.

His bulging eyes locked on the sole hovering above his nose.

He could see every groove in its tread.

He had no doubt that if that palm-sized shoe came down,

his head would burst like a ripe watermelon.

Sampo stopped rolling.

Gritting his teeth, he endured the tearing pain in his shin.

He planted both hands in the freezing snow and struggled to push his upper body upright.

He didn't dare put any weight on his right leg. It dragged limply behind him.

With an awkward twist in the snow, he turned over and dropped to both knees.

"My lady! Oh, my merciful ancestor!"

Sampo raised a hand without hesitation.

Slap!

He smacked himself hard across the face.

A red handprint swelled visibly on his cheek.

He rubbed his wet gloves together twice as fast as before.

The leather rasped against itself, quick and grating.

His teeth chattered wildly from cold and fear.

They kept clacking together.

"I, Sampo, was blind! I wasn't thinking straight!"

"These paws of mine deserve to be chopped off! How dare I reach for your head?"

Sampo spoke so fast the words nearly tangled together.

He was afraid that if he slowed for even a second, that shoe would come down.

As he spoke, he shuffled his knees half an inch backward through the snow, putting a little distance between them.

On his cold-reddened face, he forced a fawning smile uglier than a sob.

"You're generous. Please just let me go."

Sampo sniffed back the snot about to reach his lip.

"I'm just a penniless junk trader from the Underworld. My life isn't worth a thing."

"It wouldn't be worth dirtying your shoe!"

His shameless display left the Astral Express Crew, who had just regained their footing behind him, staring.

The ice arrow in March 7th's hand had yet to vanish.

Her bowstring was still drawn tight.

She watched the man who had been sweet-talking them into hiring him as a guide kneel in the snow and slap himself.

He had changed his tune faster than she could turn a page.

March 7th relaxed her grip, and the ice arrow dissolved into white mist in the storm.

Su Chen looked at Sampo kneeling by his feet.

He gave a cold snort inwardly.

Try reasoning with a shameless hustler like this, and he'd only take advantage.

Only a beating that truly hurt would teach him any respect.

The Divine Court's Seventh Seat was no mild-tempered saint.

Su Chen lowered his foot.

He planted it once more on the hard, frozen ground.

He raised a small, pale finger and pushed his sunglasses back up his nose.

"You said you were a guide?"

Su Chen stared at Sampo's miserable face, his voice devoid of feeling.

At those words, Sampo saw a chance.

His life had been spared.

He nodded frantically.

The red scarf around his neck bobbed with him.

"Yes, yes! A guide! The best guide there is!"

Without bothering to wipe the melting snow from his face, Sampo loudly declared his devotion.

"There isn't an alley anywhere in Belobog that I, Sampo, don't know!"

"Where do you want to go? The upper district or the Underworld?"

"I'll lead the way! Safest route, most discreet route, guaranteed!"

He thumped his thin chest with a series of hollow knocks.

"Free! Completely free!"

"Getting to guide you is a blessing my ancestors earned for me! The luck of eight lifetimes!"

Su Chen watched him grovel.

Having a local who knew the area lead them around would save a lot of trouble.

It beat wandering blindly through the snow.

"Enough."

Su Chen waved a hand, cutting off Sampo's torrent of words.

"Lead the way."

He pointed into the storm ahead.

"If I find out you've taken us the wrong way, or that you're trying something..."

Su Chen raised his right hand.

He held up his thumb and pressed his index and middle fingers together to form a gun.

His fingertips aimed straight at the knee of Sampo's uninjured left leg.

"Bang."

Su Chen supplied the sound softly.

Sampo shuddered from head to toe.

Cold sweat broke out across his back, and his clothes clung to his spine.

He had no doubt that the little monster's finger was a hundred times more dangerous than a gun.

"I wouldn't dare! I swear I wouldn't!"

Sampo waved his hands frantically, forcing a smile despite the swelling on one side of his face.

He braced both hands on his knees and gritted his teeth, trying to rise from the snow.

The moment he put weight on his right leg,

a searing pain shot straight through his head.

His leg buckled, and he nearly dropped to his knees again.

Sampo had no choice but to put all his weight on his left leg.

His right foot barely touched the ground, leaving him standing crookedly.

He looked like a one-legged duck struggling to stay upright in a blizzard.

He took a deep breath.

Then he turned, opened his mouth, and prepared to point the way.

From deep within the snowstorm ahead,

a series of dull thuds suddenly sounded.

"Clank, clank, clank."

The sounds came in perfect unison.

Heavy metal-armored boots were striking the hard ice together.

The footsteps were heavy.

Each step made even the frozen ground tremble faintly.

The sound cut through the howling wind.

It drew closer.

And it carried an unmistakable air of deadly intent.

Sampo's face went pale.

The curtain of wind and snow parted.

A column of fully armed soldiers emerged from the white haze like a flood of steel.

Their heavy silver armor gleamed coldly in the dim light.

Dozens of sharp spears angled toward the sky.

Massive metal shields formed an unbreakable wall before them.

At their head stood a tall man with a stern face.

He wore a thick cloak and carried a heavy shield shaped like an enormous instrument case in one hand.

A thin layer of snow rested on his short blond hair.

Led by Gepard, the fully armed Silvermane Guards raised their spears and shields as they closed in through the snowstorm.