Clang!
Zhang Da Ye swung his sword and precisely knocked aside the scythe that came flying at him again, pressing forward. If the enemy wanted to fight from long range, then he would force them into close combat.
The weapon was a kusarigama: a chain in the middle, a scythe on one end, and a heavy iron ball on the other—something like a meteor hammer.
When the scythe was deflected, the big man quickly gave the chain a flick. While pulling it back a little, he sent the blade whistling through the air once more, this time aiming at Zhang Da Ye's back.
But it wasn't meant to cut him—it was meant to wrap the chain around his neck.
Whips and chains were troublesome to block with a sword. Zhang Da Ye ducked low, letting the chain whip past over his head. Suddenly, he thought: if he could cut through the chain in one strike, then blocking wouldn't be a problem at all.
The chain swept past, followed immediately by the iron ball flying straight at him. Zhang Da Ye slashed at the joint where the chain connected to the ball.
A sharp clang rang out, sparks flying. Cutting through iron clearly wasn't something brute strength alone could achieve—at least not with the power he currently had.
As their weapons clashed, the distance between them shrank quickly. The big man noticed Zhang Da Ye was trying to close in, but he didn't retreat. The kusarigama worked just as well up close, and it gave him more chances to snare his opponent.
But that was his mistake.
As soon as Zhang Da Ye closed in, he unleashed Nie Renwang's ultimate move: "Sweeping Through the Army!"
It was supposed to be a sweeping strike, but in practice it was just a fierce overhead chop.
"Shameless!" the big man cursed, raising his smaller scythe to block. But when blade met blade, the small scythe snapped in two. Zhang Da Ye's swordpoint tore across his chest, leaving a bloody gash.
"You're… a swordsman?" The big man fell to one knee, disbelief on his face. What kind of swordsman starts a fight with a folding chair? That was an insult to the dignity of swordsmanship!
Of course not. Zhang Da Ye's talent with the sword was nothing special—he had only managed to cut through the weapon by cheating with magic. "That makes me a swordsman? I—"
The big man didn't wait for him to finish. He turned and ran. Only a fool would stay and chat after being injured. Once he realized he had no chance of winning, the only sensible thing to do was run.
He knew his crew's strength well. If he was already down on one knee, there was no hope for the others. He had to escape quickly—everyone else would just have to fend for themselves.
Until… he fell flat on his face.
"What the hell!?" He struggled to turn his head and saw a cat pulling its leg back. "You've got to be kidding me!"
His composure shattered. Even if that cat stood upright, it would barely reach his knee. Its leg wasn't even as long as his foot. By all rights, if he had kicked it, the cat's bones should have snapped. How could it possibly trip him?
Because that cat was Tom.
Tom, who knew too many tricks for his own good and suffered from a bit of choice paralysis, hadn't even decided what outfit to wear today. While he was still torn, he noticed someone aiming a gun at his master.
That was something he couldn't let slide. In a blur, Tom darted forward and yanked the barrel just as the man pulled the trigger.
Bang! The net that fired from the gun tangled around another gunman instead.
And as luck would have it, that gunman also accidentally pulled his trigger, firing the same kind of net—straight over his partner.
"Damn cat!" the two men shouted from inside the nets, struggling furiously. "What are you doing!?" they yelled in unison.
Tom spread his hands helplessly, then snatched up a gun, gripping it by the barrel and whacking the two of them over and over with the butt.
He kept hitting until both of them were dizzy, stars spinning around their heads. Only then did Tom wipe his forehead with a paw, flick away a few drops of sweat, and let out a long breath. "Hoo—shoo~"
It probably meant: what a hard life I have.
But Tom wasn't about to rest yet. Instead, he looked around to see if anyone else needed help.
Artoria was fine, of course. She had opened by dropping another kusarigama-wielding fighter in just two moves, then went on to exchange three blows with each of the five who came at her.
That kind of precise score control was enough to make the first man downed spit blood in rage. He was clearly the strongest—so why was he the one to get taken out instantly?
On the other side, Rui Meng Meng didn't need help either. When her opponents saw her draw nothing but a broken sword, they doubled over laughing, ridiculing her mercilessly.
Rui Meng Meng wasn't the kind of girl who could completely ignore what people thought. Their mockery turned her face bright red.
In fact, Zhang Da Ye had given her two swords: one ordinary double-edged blade, and one broken sword salvaged from the battlefield of Camlann.
Today she chose the broken sword because she remembered Zhang Da Ye saying: "When the broken sword is reforged, the knight shall return."
Being a bit of a chuunibyou, she felt fighting with a broken sword might look especially cool. Besides, the broken blade was of far higher quality than the normal sword. It felt better in her hands.
So the harder her enemies had laughed at first, the harder they were crying now.
None of them had expected this seemingly timid girl to fight so viciously. Every strike went for a vital spot—often in every sense of the word.
The instant she swung her first sword, the sweet girl-next-door turned into a battlefield queen. Add a few lines of maniacal laughter, and it still wouldn't have seemed out of place.
Tom watched for a bit and realized the only person who might need his help was Zhang Da Ye.
The big man might not have understood what had happened, but Zhang Da Ye had seen it clearly.
The moment the man turned to flee, Tom had stuck his leg out from two meters away.
By distance alone it should have been impossible—but Tom's leg bent suddenly in the middle, like chopsticks dipped in water, and stretched out just far enough to trip him.
A thin little cat's leg, tripping a two-meter-tall, broad-shouldered brute—it made perfect sense.
Zhang Da Ye rubbed Tom's head, then pressed his sword against the man's neck.
"Well done, Tom!" Zhang Da Ye laughed. He could have caught up easily with his own speed, but he couldn't just ignore Tom's effort.
Tom grinned wide. His good moods always came easily.
"So… organ trafficker, was it? Care to tell me who exactly this client of yours is—the one who wanted our organs?" Zhang Da Ye was already considering how he might interrogate him if he kept quiet.
Should he use Tom's tail to tickle the man's feet? Or maybe recreate on his body all the injuries Tom had once suffered?
The latter seemed a bit too brutal, so it was undecided.
"It was a man with an afro." The big man knew better than to make things difficult.
In truth, he already felt like he had been set up. With the strength of their twelve-man crew, they could have taken down even a pirate worth forty or fifty million. There was no reason they should have been beaten by a tiny tavern. Their employer must have hidden something.
And since his own end was probably near, why should he keep the secret? Better to drag someone else down with him.