"Oscar Golden Fist — Forward Punch!"
Ren quietly crept close enough before slamming a fist straight into the guard's face. Teeth flew alongside his fading consciousness.
The doorman collapsed silently, out cold.
His partner cursed and swung a machete, but Ren caught his wrist and drove a sharp kick straight into the man's crotch.
The thug's eyes bulged in pain as he fell limp to the ground, the reflection of Ren's incoming fist flashing across his trembling pupils.
Bang—!
The last guard went down hard. One of the thugs lying nearby cracked open an eye, then quickly shut it again after seeing his comrades' bloodied faces.
What?Fight back?
For a measly few thousand Berries a month? Not worth dying for!
Damn it! Missed again—but whatever, problem solved.
Ren glanced at the two bodies sprawled on the floor as the golden aura around him faded.
His Indestructible Vajra Body seemed to operate passively—it automatically restored nearly half of his Qi after about half an hour.
That gave his risky plan at least a sliver of safety.
Still, his Qi drained fast. He had to end things quickly.
Ren reloaded the small, battered hand crossbow in his grip.
It was a prize he'd drawn from the Dimensional Roulette, barely functional as a ranged weapon—but better than nothing.
After a few tries, he'd more or less figured out how to use it.
Of course, hitting anything was another matter entirely.
Once reloaded, Ren kicked the door open without hesitation.
"Hands up! FBI!"
Thunk!
Six thugs sitting around a card table jumped up in shock.
"Who the hell is this lunatic? Daring to invade the Godfather's turf?!"
The burly leader—Gus—grabbed his machete and stormed forward with fury.
"This brat lost his way or what? Gus, kill him already!"
The other five looked amused, practically cheering Gus on like it was a show.
Ren raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt missed, of course—but it startled them just enough.
He didn't panic. Instead, his sharp eyes swept the room, quickly taking stock.
Six enemies. None with firearms. With Nezuro's status, getting flintlocks from the Marines shouldn't be hard—but his men have none.Only he carries one himself… so he's been hoarding the firepower to maintain control. Lucky me.
Ren clenched his fists. Golden light burst across his body.
"What the hell—?"
Gus froze mid-step, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
Damn, he's glowing?! Is that gold or a person?!
Before he could react, Ren lunged—his golden fist shooting toward Gus's face.
But Gus was no rookie. Instinctively, he swung his machete.
Who cared what that glowing freak was? Kill first, question later!
Maybe it was just some maniac who painted himself gold. Charging barehanded? Fine—he'd send him straight to the underworld.
Clang—!
The metal shrieked, the blade edge curling on impact.
Gus's pupils constricted. His machete bent from hitting flesh?!
"What the—what kind of monster are yo—"
Before he could finish, Ren's punch silenced him permanently. Then, without slowing down, Ren charged at the five remaining men.
"Gus is down!"
"What?! But I saw him hit the guy!"
"Forget that—he's coming this way!"
Panicked, the five thugs snatched up their weapons.
"He's just one man! Five on one—we've got the advantage!"
"Yeah! Get him!"
They rushed in together, blades swinging wildly.
"You think you're some kind of martial arts master? Eat my fist!"
Ren didn't back down. He couldn't.
Time was against him—any hesitation could get him killed.
The corpses back in the general store were ticking bombs, set to blow any moment.
If the explosion went off before he escaped the island, he might as well dig his own grave and lie down.
At least then, he'd have chosen his own burial spot.
The thugs weren't strong, but they had teamwork. They surrounded Ren from all directions, blades flashing.
Golden light or not, he didn't have three heads and six arms.
Couldn't kill him with one strike? Then try again!
Clang—!
A machete struck Ren's back. His face tightened, but he swiftly dodged the next blow aimed at his head and countered with a sharp jab to the throat.
The crack of bone echoed. The thug collapsed instantly.
Relying on the defense of the Indestructible Vajra Body, Ren took hits head-on, focusing on delivering lethal counters.
The remaining four froze, staring at their dented weapons.
Now they understood how Gus fell so easily.
Their hesitation was fatal. Ren moved like lightning, targeting weak points—groin kicks, eye gouges, throat strikes—dropping them one by one.
"Bastard! You fight dirty!" one screamed, clutching his eyes.
"Righteous men are already in their graves," Ren sneered. "Only the despicable live long—and lucky for me, I'm a shameless outsider."
He gave a hollow laugh, then plunged his dagger straight through the man's throat.
The thug convulsed like a fish on a chopping board—then stilled forever.
Ren methodically finished off the unconscious ones too, wiping the blood from his blade without emotion.
In his situation, any loose end could mean death.
Killing Nezuro had already sealed his fate—the Marines would hunt him no matter what.
These low-lifes who served under him? Not worth pitying. Every one of them deserved it.
"Goodbye. With their company, you won't be lonely on the road to hell."
Ren murmured softly, then walked toward the warehouse entrance.
The Indestructible Vajra Body included not just defense but also fragments of martial experience.
He wasn't yet proficient, so he always made sure to deliver a finishing blow—no room for surprises.
As for using weapons, unfortunately he lacked combat training. And truth be told—he preferred the feel of fists meeting flesh.
Still, when he opened the warehouse door, surprise awaited him.
The two unconscious thugs who should've been there—only one remained.
Playing dead?
Expressionless, Ren stepped inside. He knew his inexperience had left gaps in his plan.
But regret was useless—action was all that mattered.
This time, he moved fast.
The escaped thug would naturally run to report to his boss—Nezuro, now lying dead in the general store.
That meant, soon enough, someone would discover the bodies, alert the Marines, and trigger an island-wide manhunt.
He had maybe twenty minutes.
If he didn't draw a reward from the Dimensional Roulette that could help him escape by then—
—his second life would end in a hail of Marine bullets.
But Ren didn't regret coming here.
After all—
Life is like a salted fish. Without struggle, how can it ever turn over?
(End of Chapter)