Chapter 438: The Martial Arts Blockade
The chaotic Three Wolves gatehouse had finally fallen silent.
Before Ren Shiroki lay an empty clearing. The mob had evaporated, leaving behind
only cracked concrete, shattered batons, and pools of drying crimson to tell the
tale of the past two days.
In the distance, the residents of the Ward who had watched the bloodbath clapped
their hands in genuine awe, trading hushed rumors before slowly dispersing back
into their daily survival routines.
Ren glanced left and right. Realizing there was no one left to hit, a strange
hollow sensation crept into his chest. He felt unfulfilled, slightly
disappointed, and a little lonely.
That gloom vanished the second his crew came jogging over.
Fusui Kure, Arisa, Marco, and Himuro Ryo—the four of them closed in around him
like a post-match corner crew, celebrating his victory.
"Ren-aniki is so strong!" Marco cheered, grinning ear to ear.
"You really pushed yourself to the ragged edge again, Aniki..." Arisa sighed,
shaking her head.
"Ren-chin, want some water?" Fusui offered, already holding a bottle.
"You really live up to the name, Shiroki," Himuro said, shaking his head with a
low whistle.
Hearing their voices, Ren's sour mood cleared instantly. He bared his teeth in a
wide grin, answering each of them in turn.
He found a dry concrete step and sat down, letting Fusui gently clean the dried
gore from his skin and patch up the shallow cuts scattered across his shoulders
and arms.
Himuro leaned against a rusted pillar, dragging on a fresh cigarette as he
watched the girl dress Ren's wounds.
Once the bandages were secured around Ren's forehead, Himuro exhaled a long
plume of smoke, his expression turning solemn.
"As someone born and raised in this gutter... I never imagined a day would come
where an outsider would bring every heavyweight in the Three Wolves sector to
heel."
"And using the most straightforward, bare-knuckle violence imaginable to do it."
Himuro shook his head, looking down at Ren with profound respect. "You're a
terrifying bastard, Shiroki."
Ren scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish, though his eyes
sparkled with pride. He took a slow swig of water.
"It's just about finding an opponent and throwing down," Ren said lightly. "One
guy or a hundred—the assignment doesn't change. You just show up and do the
work."
He looked toward the bustling black market in the distance, where vendors were
already reopening their stalls.
Ren smirked, teasing, "Though I gotta ask... do people in the Ward see this kind
of stuff every day? I figured after a show like that, the crowd would clap a
little longer. Are the locals always this cold?"
Himuro actually thought about it for a beat, then shook his head. "No. The Ward
operates on a completely different ecosystem than the outside world."
"Hm?"
Before Ren could dig deeper, two figures emerged from the shadows of the
shanties.
They were local residents—plain clothes, weary postures, carrying zero visible
iron. They were practically jogging straight toward Ren, though neither carried
a speck of hostile intent.
"Uh... excuse me..."
The bearded man in the lead stopped two paces from Ren. He scratched his
unwashed hair, offering an awkward, deferential half-bow.
"My little brother and I need to make a supply run to the 'Outside.' Is it cool
if we use the Three Wolves checkpoint?"
Ren blinked, pointing at his own chest. "Wait... me?"
Seeing the bearded man nod nervously, Ren looked bewildered. "Sure, go right
ahead. Why are you asking me?"
The bearded man broke into a relieved grin, nodding profusely without
explaining. He grabbed his brother by the shoulder and hurried through the
gatehouse tunnel, vanishing into the outer corridor.
"That's what I was talking about," Himuro explained, chuckling at Ren's
confusion.
"After two days of non-stop slaughter, the Three Wolves sector has already
integrated you into its food chain."
Himuro took a slow drag from his smoke. "Your absolute force forced the local
ecosystem to adapt. They now recognize your absolute territorial authority over
this gate."
"When a monster of your caliber sits on the threshold, deciding who passes
through the Three Wolves corridor is entirely up to you."
"Those two guys came to ask your blessing because they wanted to be sure you
wouldn't take their heads off on the way out."
Himuro's gaze turned sharp.
"If The Inside is an untamed, primeval jungle... the ones who write the laws of
the jungle are the apex predators who inhabit it."
"A new ecosystem has formed around Ren Shiroki. The locals have already accepted
your presence as their new daily reality."
"To the people of the Ward... that is their version of applause."
Ren finally grasped the concept. He turned his head, staring out at the chaotic,
smoke-filled bazaar.
"So they aren't cold after all... Just a little shy, huh?"
In any case, the Three Wolves sector checkpoint was officially under total
lockdown!
After a war of attrition, recovery was mandatory.
Night settled over the ruins.
Ren, Fusui, Arisa, Marco, and Himuro remained camped near the checkpoint breach,
utilizing the abandoned tents and pallets left behind by the routed gang to
build a crackling bonfire.
Snap, crackle, pop.
The wood popped rhythmically, tossing golden embers into the dark autumn air.
Himuro had slipped into the black market earlier, returning with several thick
cuts of fresh beef and local spices. The crew gathered around the fire, turning
dinner into an open-air barbecue.
The beef was marbled and fresh. Grilled over open embers, rendered fat hissed
and dripped onto the burning wood, filling the clearing with an intoxicating,
savory aroma.
Ren picked up a massive, sizzling strip on the tip of his combat knife, took a
violent bite, and tore the meat apart with his teeth. The juices burst across
his tongue. He slapped his thigh in pure ecstasy.
"Damn! This is incredible!!"
The others ate with equal gusto. Arisa had even managed to pack cans of cold
soda into her backpack, treating this high-risk infiltration like an exotic
camping trip with her big brother.
Himuro watched Arisa chug a soda, shaking his head in wonder. Her mental
fortitude for a high school girl is completely unhinged... Then again, she
shares his blood.
He glanced toward Fusui and Marco.
The girl's black-and-white eyes marked her as elite Kure royalty—her lethality
went without saying.
Marco spoke like an innocent toddler, yet the sheer mass of his frame and the
effortless way he moved heavy iron hinted at a physical outlier whose limits
were unknown.
And reigning over them all was the monster: [THE SOUL COMBATANT] Ren Shiroki.
Every time Himuro replayed the phantom strikes Ren had executed that afternoon,
a cold shiver traced his spine.
As Ren chewed his beef, his mind was running through the same data.
[HASHOGEKI].
A core technique of Master Ryu, born from the depths of the Ansatsuken.
Yet as Ryu had taught him, the exact same principle wielded by two different
souls would birth two entirely different executions.
Ryu gathered his concentrated Ki into his palms, blasting it forward as an
invisible, point-blank shockwave.
Ren's execution, however, relied on the absolute perfection of his Stance. By
projecting the unyielding intent of the strike into the very air, he forced the
opponent's brain to accept the physical trauma as absolute reality!
It wasn't magic. It was the synthesis of his entire martial journey condensed
into a single posture.
Striking...
Right now, Ren could make his stance project the impact of a blow, but he knew
this was merely the baseline.
There was something higher waiting above mere "Striking."
A realm that existed beyond mechanical impact—a true Way.
The thought made his spine tingle, a film of sweat breaking out across his skin.
Ryu had told him: {I found the answer I was seeking. To me, it was a profound
watershed. But even now... I continue to march forward.}
Ren clenched his right fist, watching the orange glow of the fire reflect off
his knuckles.
Yeah. Past the watershed... I'll keep marching forward, too.
The fire popped warmly, casting long, peaceful shadows against the concrete
ruins. The night inside The Inside wasn't half bad.
Fusui leaned her weight sideways, resting her head against Ren's shoulder, her
mismatched eyes blinking lazily. She spun a tactical sidearm around her finger
with practiced ease, giggling.
"I've never taken an assassination contract inside the Ward before. This is my
first time here, and honestly? It's pretty cozy!"
Himuro smirked. "As long as nobody comes looking for trouble, any place is
fine."
"Though to be fair, while the Three Wolves sector has plenty of top-tier
killers, its overall chaos rating is relatively low because we don't have five
different syndicates waging a constant turf war."
"The most stable zones in the Ward are Three Wolves and Eight Hawks."
"The true slaughterhouses are Six Insects and Ten Tokita. No single faction has
absolute control there, so bodies drop every hour."
Himuro crossed his arms, laying out his intelligence. "Word is several other
outsiders have made serious waves at other checkpoints lately, kicking up a
massive storm."
"If we need deeper intel, I can reach out to my contact in Three Wolves. A
Korean guy named Zhang, goes by [THE GENERAL]. Former mercenary. The only reason
this district stays relatively peaceful is because his faction keeps the smaller
gangs on a tight leash."
The Hub crew listened like children hearing ghost stories around a campfire.
Just then, Fusui's tactical phone began to vibrate.
She checked the encrypted screen. It was an incoming video call from the
Chairman of the Kengan Association himself—Metsudo Katahara.
The call connected. On the other end, the old Chairman looked as spry as ever,
his long white beard neatly combed and his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Oho! Little Fusui! You're already inside the Ward, are you? And you've linked
up with Shiroki-kun! Excellent!"
Metsudo laughed, leaning forward.
"I have quite a bit of interesting news for you all!"
"First: Sukizo Urita, CEO of Penasonic, and his personal fighter, Ryo Inaba."
"My people have extracted them. They are currently resting under my protection
at my estate."
Metsudo pivoted his camera. Sitting in the room behind him were the long-haired
assassin Ryo Inaba and a clean-cut young businessman in glasses—Sukizo Urita,
the engineer behind the Secret Key Cards.
"H-Hello, Shiroki-san..." Urita bowed deeply, his expression heavy with guilt.
"I am deeply sorry for dragging you into this syndicate war. I was fleeing for
my life from IDEAL hitmen and thought I was going to be liquidated. I begged
Inaba-kun to scatter the cards..."
"I never imagined they would fall into your hands and cause this much
trouble..."
Urita braced himself for an earful of rightful fury.
Instead, Ren Shiroki grinned broadly through a mouthful of grilled beef. "Are
you kidding? You gave me an incredible opportunity, Urita-san!"
Urita: "..."
Urita and Inaba blinked in total bewilderment.
Metsudo burst into uproarious laughter. "Gwahaha! What did I tell you, Sukizo?!
Real combatants don't cry over a little trouble—if they did, why would they
volunteer to jump into the fire in the first place?!"
Metsudo tapped his walking stick, his tone turning sharp and grand.
"And your desperate struggle bore magnificent fruit, Sukizo!"
"The armed riot planned by IDEAL and The Worm was supposed to breach the gates
today. Instead, their forces were blockaded at every single sector checkpoint by
a handful of martial arts monsters!"
"I sent my retrieval teams to survey the perimeter today. Want to see the fresh
footage?"
The five gathered tightly around the screen.
Himuro laid out his satellite tactical map over a flat stone, tracking the
coordinates.
On Metsudo's end, the feed split into a live reconnaissance display.
The Three Wolves checkpoint showed [THE SOUL COMBATANT] Ren Shiroki.
And diagonally across the map, at the gatehouse of the Six Insects sector, stood
a name everyone in the room knew.
[THE DEVIL LANCE] Kuroki Gensai.
"I hired Kuroki to do the Association a small favor," Metsudo chuckled. "Can't
let riots ruin the stock market, after all."
The video played.
The massive concrete tunnel of the Six Insects checkpoint was completely
mutilated. Hundreds—thousands—of puncture wounds had been driven straight
through the reinforced masonry, each hole dripping with the blood of syndicate
mercenaries.
Kuroki stood alone in the center of the corridor, resting in the pristine [NEKO
ASHI DACHI] of the Kaiwan Style.
His calloused fingertips were stained red, yet his dark trench coat was
completely spotless, save for a light dusting of chalk.
At his feet, a single straight line had been carved into the asphalt with his
big toe—an impassable border.
A grandmaster of assassination. Not a single outlaw dared cross the line.
Kuroki had turned the entire Six Insects vanguard into paste single-handedly,
holding the gate against an army.
The video captured Kuroki turning his head toward the Chairman's surveillance
agent, his voice a low, grinding rumble:
"Hm. An acceptable warm-up. Inform Katahara-dono that the Six Insects gate is
secure."
Then, the feed switched to the southwest sector—the lawless birthplace of Ohma
Tokita: Ten Tokita.
Universally acknowledged as the bloodiest zone in the entire Ward.
Unlike Kuroki's finished execution, the camera crew had arrived just as the
clash was igniting.
Standing before a massive, armed host of syndicate outlaws was an unnatural,
colossal wall of hyper-dense muscle. A silhouette that defied biological norms.
Height: 190 cm. Weight: 170 kg!
Unrivaled raw power! Mr. Unchained! The King of the Blackgate! The Freest Man on
Earth!
Biscuit Oliva!!
"A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen..."
Oliva stood in his flamboyant Hawaiian shirt, arms spread wide as he offered a
deep, gentlemanly theatrical bow to the armed mob staring at him. He flashed two
rows of brilliant, white teeth.
"Even in a lawless territory... crime is strictly prohibited, you know."
He grinned, his voice dripping with playful menace:
"Do you understand?"
☆☆☆
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