He unleashed everything—his strongest form.
Chen Xiao watched Aokura Seiya's unraveling with cool detachment. He wouldn't let this perfect opportunity slip away.
"Wouldn't betray you? Hahaha!" Chen Xiao mocked. "Little Sakura boy, this is the end. Only the strong get to talk about loyalty. To be fair, Kawakima Aki was gentle—she liked hiding a blade behind her words. When I called her out, she dropped her guard. I enjoyed that."
Aokura snapped. He knew, now, that Kawakima had a hidden dagger in her speech—if someone else could say that, it meant…
His voice went hoarse. "What did you do to her…? What did you do…?"
He refused to believe it; without photos or proof it sounded like a lie. Chen Xiao sighed and shook his head.
"All I can say is, her service was quite good. I was comfortable."
Those words broke Aokura. He surged forward, his speed pushing past his body's limits.
So what? Chen Xiao only sneered. He loved watching these Sakura brats lose their heads—especially those who hollered "damned Huaxia."
Nine-Foot Seal—snap. The brown energy around Aokura vanished.
The water blade cut the air. In an instant the shell armor shattered. Half of Aokura Seiya's torso was sliced clean away.
Three fire seeds tumbled free; Chen Xiao swept them into his bag without hesitation. Aokura collapsed onto the stone, blood staining the glowing rock, eyes wide and glassy.
"Go down and see Kawakima. She's waiting for you." Chen Xiao said casually.
Aokura gurgled, lifted his head. "I… I didn't find the blade… Kawakima Aki… was never mine." A cough of blood, and he died.
A Yao stepped close, staring at Chen Xiao. "Brother Chen Xiao—was that true?"
Chen Xiao smiled faintly. "Of course it was a lie."
A Yao frowned. "Then how did you make it sound so real?"
Chen Xiao pinched her cheek. "All's fair in war. Learn from me."
She mulled it over. "What about your injuries? Are you better? More people will come up soon. You're not planning to fight every one of them, are you?"
Chen Xiao remembered the injured act he'd put on. He clutched his chest and forced a strained smile. "It's nothing. For the national fortune, I'll hold on."
A Yao's heart ached.
Below, Hokusai and the last Sakura man watched their comrade die, faces stunned.
"Aokura!" one cried. "He died of rage!" "Let's take this Huaxia freak down!"
They knew Aokura's defense—how could one strike cut him in half?
Hokusai drew his samurai blade with the speed of legend. A monstrous, earth-shattering force rushed toward Chen Xiao.
"Mad Ghost Boss, I've got your back!" Zhang Longqi roared, channeling Tremor Earth.
Rumble—
Hokusai leapt and brought his sword in a single, horizontal slash. The blade carried the weight of his Bushido inheritance; its force was enough to topple a shrine.
But the slash stalled an inch from Chen Xiao, stopped dead.
Ripples of water spread out—an absolute defense.
Hokusai's eyes widened; he scrambled backward, but it was too late. Close range favored Chen Xiao. Even a Ram Head could not withstand this—much less a mortal.
Chen Xiao's fist moved in a terrible, inexorable arc, as if time itself slowed to watch.
"Sakura camp, see you in the underworld."
Boom—Rumble—
Hokusai exploded under that punch, torn into chunks.
Four fire seeds flashed under Chen Xiao's [Dragon's Breath]—no hiding place. He swept them into the Mountain and River Map.
In a breath, the two strongest Sakura were dead. Brutal. Final.
A Yao had not expected the carnage. She looked at Chen Xiao—he showed no signs of injury at all. He had blown Hokusai apart with his bare hands.
"Chen Xiao! You said you were hurt!" she cried.
Chen Xiao cleared his throat and feigned a wince. "Ahem. Still recovering. I'll need A Yao's healing tonight."
She rolled her eyes, understanding his wink.
A strange new murmur rose from the cave: the larger group he'd mentioned was finally surfacing. Voices carried through the haze as more survivors pushed out one after another.
"Temperature spiked at night—Alva got heatstroke!" "We lost someone even with Neil's gear on!" "There's fighting outside!"
"Peace? Forget it. Once the Rules let us out, those injured will die first—we're going to slaughter our way through!"
This group was the largest yet—ten people, three of whom had already died by the end of the stage. In their center strode a young man with messy blond hair: Little Zeus. His handsome face and cold eyes made an impression.
"The National Fortune Game pretends to allow peaceful survival," he said, voice cold. "That umbrella is fragile. I need more points. I'll hold the cave mouth, kill the weak, ally with the strong—Europe will win."
Little Zeus had grasped the stage's real calculus: if you block the surface exit, the weak below cannot exit to finish the game; they die. If you can hold dominance, you can take everything. He'd planned to bully and hold. Until now, he'd never met someone more extreme.
Everyone looked toward the molten rock below the cave mouth. Then, without warning, a halberd tore through space itself and slammed into the molten ground less than a meter from Little Zeus.
Rock shards flew. Impaled on the halberd's shaft was a human figure.