In the cold storage warehouse, Uesugi Yue held two Tang-style Greatswords, surrounded by unconscious frogmen.
He had agreed to help Angers, but did not want himself or his son drawn in any deeper. Against the private soldiers sent by those old men in the Secret Party, he used only the backs of his blades to knock them unconscious, never striking to kill.
Even so, the battle was completely one-sided.
To turn him from a Frenchman into a Japanese man, the Sheqi Eight Clans had invited master swordsmen from all over Japan to teach him. As a result, he understood the essence of almost every school of Japanese swordsmanship. When he wielded his twin blades, the frogmen looked like clumsy rabbits, running into him one after another.
And after taking down more than thirty A-Rank Hybrids in a short time, Uesugi Yue was in about the same condition as after a baseball game, sweating slightly.
Angers, who was watching while leaning against a shipping container nearby, gave him a thumbs-up. "As expected of the last naturally born Emperor. Your son probably isn't a match for you."
"Don't say such unlucky things. My son and I haven't had nearly enough good days together yet. Why would we ever turn our blades on each other?" Uesugi Yue raised his middle finger.
"All right, on a serious note, I just checked. These frogmen aren't the real operators. Whoever is actually commanding the Immortals should be hiding somewhere," Angers said. "The Immortals are stable at low temperatures. We either move the container immediately or destroy it immediately."
"It looks like we're too late..." Uesugi Yue's expression grew grave.
On a small hill beside the docks, "Fujiwara Nobunosuke" pressed the injection button, then crushed the remote. More than a dozen fully armed shadows of the Gattuso