Chapter 82: Jiro Umekawa

Ten minutes later.

Su Yifan had just returned home.

At that moment, his phone suddenly rang.

He pulled out his phone and answered the call.

“Hello, what is it?”

“Yifan, help! Please!” came Zheng Yuan’s frantic voice from the other end.

“Speak clearly, what happened?” Su Yifan pressed.

No sooner had he spoken than the sounds of fighting erupted through the receiver.

Zheng Yuan hurriedly cried, “Yifan, please come quickly—it's urgent! We’re at the southern docks, please, you—bang—”

Beeeeep—

The call cut off abruptly, as if Zheng Yuan’s phone had been knocked out of his hand.

Su Yifan lowered his phone. “What’s going on with that guy?”

By rights, he had never cared for these mundane affairs.

But Zheng Yuan and Hong Jinlong had helped him once before; for the sake of gratitude and principle, he had to go and see.

…

Meanwhile, at the southern docks.

Hong Jinlong, Zheng Yuan, and several core members of the Martial Alliance were encircling three masked men dressed in black.

“If you know what’s good for you, surrender quietly!” Hong Jinlong said in a low voice, staring at the masked trio.

“People of Daxia, I suggest you step aside. Your country has a saying: ‘A wise man adapts to the times.’ I hope you won’t bring disaster upon yourselves,” one of the masked men replied in awkward Mandarin, his tone cold.

“Chief, don’t waste words with them! They’ve killed so many of our countrymen—we can’t let them escape!” Zheng Yuan shouted angrily.

In the past few days, martial artists throughout the southeastern province had been brutally murdered.

The authorities had already been alerted.

Today, word arrived from above: those killers had fled to Cloud City and were planning to escape through the port.

But since the Dragon Squad’s agents had not yet arrived, Hong Jinlong and his men were tasked with stopping their escape.

Upon receiving the message,

Hong Jinlong and the core members of Cloud City’s Martial Alliance rushed to the southern docks.

Luckily, they arrived just in time.

As the fugitives tried to flee, they were intercepted.

Hong Jinlong nodded at Zheng Yuan’s words. “Alright, brothers, follow me—let's take them down together!”

At his command,

Zheng Yuan and the other core members surged forward.

“Damn Daxia scum! Since you court death, let me oblige you!” the masked leader sneered.

The other two immediately engaged.

Despite being outnumbered three to five, the masked men fought with ease, outmaneuvering Hong Jinlong and his group.

After several exchanges,

Hong Jinlong’s side was gradually overwhelmed.

Then—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The three masked men, acting together, sent all five opponents flying.

At that moment,

Only Hong Jinlong managed to stay conscious; the other four lay on the ground, unable to move.

“I warned you not to meddle—do you regret it now?” the leader mocked.

“You foreign scum! You dare kill our people? Even if I die today, I’ll drag you down with me!” Hong Jinlong roared. He slapped the ground, forced himself up, and charged at the three masked men.

As Hong Jinlong rushed forward, the leader signaled his companions to stand back.

He launched himself at Hong Jinlong, his fist striking at lightning speed.

Hong Jinlong barely saw it coming.

Caught off guard,

The punch landed squarely on his chest.

Bang!

Hong Jinlong spat blood and was thrown backward, skidding over ten meters.

“So this is the strength of Daxia’s warriors? Pathetic,” the masked man shook his head, pitying him.

“Meichuan Tsujirou, finish them off. Someone called for backup just now—we must leave immediately,” one of the masked men urged.

Meichuan Tsujirou nodded. “Fine. You two, kill those four. I’ll handle this one.”

“Hai!” The two drew knives from their waists and advanced on Zheng Yuan and the others.

“Don’t you dare!” Hong Jinlong shouted as he saw them move to kill his companions.

He tried to intervene, but his wounds made it impossible.

“You can barely protect yourself, and still you think of others,” Meichuan Tsujirou said, walking slowly toward Hong Jinlong.

He relished this moment—watching his foes struggle to save their comrades, yet powerless to help.

Zheng Yuan, seeing the masked men coming for him, closed his eyes.

In that instant,

Su Yifan’s heroic figure flashed through his mind.

Yifan, see you in the next life.

“Daxia scum, die!”

The two masked men reached Zheng Yuan and the others, their knives flashing as they aimed for their throats.

Suddenly—

Bang! Bang!

Two explosive sounds echoed.

The masked men attacking Zheng Yuan were blown apart.

A tall, elegant figure descended from the sky.

It was Su Yifan.

“Yifan!” Hong Jinlong’s heart surged with emotion at Su Yifan’s arrival, his nose tingling, nearly breaking into tears.

Was he really here?

Hearing the chief’s voice,

Zheng Yuan and the others opened their eyes in unison.

Seeing Su Yifan, they were overcome with joy.

Especially the three core members who had never met him—they wept openly.

Su Yifan had saved them, making him their benefactor, a second father in their eyes.

“Baka! Who are you?” Meichuan Tsujirou finally noticed Su Yifan’s arrival.

Seeing his two companions dead,

He was filled with rage and grief.

“Baka? So it’s you, little Nippon,” Su Yifan said, stepping toward Meichuan Tsujirou.

Since childhood, he had dreamed of fighting on the battlefield, slaying the enemy—especially those from Nippon.

Even after becoming immortal, the urge to defeat them remained.

“You—don’t come any closer!” Meichuan Tsujirou retreated rapidly as Su Yifan approached.

He had seen Su Yifan descend from the sky and knew he was no match.

Su Yifan smiled at his cowardice.

With a flash, he appeared before Meichuan Tsujirou, seized him by the throat, and lifted him off the ground.

“Yifan, wait—don’t kill him yet!” Hong Jinlong suddenly called out.

Su Yifan paused. “Why not?”

“They've killed so many of our people, and they likely have other accomplices. We need to interrogate him.”

“Interrogation? That’s my specialty,” Su Yifan replied, turning to Meichuan Tsujirou. “Did you hear that? Tell us everything you know.”

At these words,

Meichuan Tsujirou burst out laughing. “Heh, damn Daxia scum, do you think I’m weak? I, Meichuan Tsujirou, am a loyal samurai of Sakura Country!”

“You’ll never get anything from me—aaaaah!”

Su Yifan had no patience for his bluster; he began a soul search without further ado.

…