The footsteps of Han Feng running and Kurosaki chasing behind echoed rapidly on the damp alleyway floor. Kurosaki's footsteps followed closely behind, about ten meters behind. The two figures moved swiftly through the alley, the distance perfectly controlled by Han Feng, so Kurosaki noticed nothing amiss.
"Almost there...just a little closer and it should be ready..."
Han Feng deliberately made his breathing heavy, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if he were exhausted. When the footsteps behind him closed to within five meters, he suddenly staggered, using his right hand to steady himself against the wall. The flaw was so natural that even he himself had to believe it.
"Can't run anymore?" Kurosaki's voice was mocking, like a cat playing with a mouse, his eyes filled with murderous intent as he looked at the person in front of him.
Han Feng didn't turn around. His ears twitched slightly, and Kurosaki's breathing rhythm, the distance between his footsteps, even the rustling of his clothes, all created a vivid image in his mind. Three, two, one...
Just as Kurosaki was about to touch the back of his neck, Han Feng suddenly turned around, and his right palm, like a viper spitting its tongue, pierced through the opponent's defensive gaps and went straight for his throat!
\"Bang!\"
Kurosaki reacted with astonishing speed. While blocking with his left forearm, he drew a short blade with his right hand and stabbed it towards Han Feng's ribs. Han Feng twisted his waist and abdomen strangely, and the blade grazed his shirt, leaving a clean cut in the fabric.
The two clashed briefly, then collided again like magnets. Kurosaki's attack trajectory was unpredictable; his short blade flew through the air, sometimes held upright, sometimes in reverse, with no discernible pattern in his moves. Several times, the tip of his blade almost grazed Han Feng's eyeball, the resulting air pressure causing him to tear up.
"I see... These family practitioners don't follow the orthodox, forceful path of Bushido in Japan; they're more like the sinister and cunning school of ninjutsu."
Han Feng fought and retreated, suppressing eighty percent of his strength within his body, barely managing to parry. His pupils contracted slightly in the darkness, taking in every tremor of Kurosaki's muscles and every change in his breathing. He was terrified that if he made a single careless move, he might accidentally kill Kurosaki, ruining the entire plan.
"Is that all you've got?" Kurosaki suddenly changed his move, his short blade flying out of his hand, while he spun like a top, sweeping Han Feng's lower body with his right leg.
Han Feng feigned a slow reaction, his knee being swept off its feet. He leaned back, but just before falling, he braced himself with one hand, performing a backflip to create distance. This series of movements was fluid and seamless, seemingly clumsy but actually without injury, though Han Feng deliberately made his landing a little more unsteady.
"Is this all the Miyamoto family's trash has to offer? Kneel down and beg for mercy, and I might consider leaving you a whole corpse." Kurosaki sneered, drawing another short blade from his waist, crossing the two blades into a cross. "Don't make any futile resistance. What you did to Young Master Makino, the Makino family head won't let you off, and the Miyamoto family can't protect you either. You'd better beg for mercy obediently, and I'll give you a quick death."
Han Feng straightened up, panting, and secretly formed a hand seal behind his back. The stars in the night sky seemed to brighten a little, and a faint silver light flowed into his meridians through his fingertips.
"Pah! What a load of crap, the Makino family! They're nothing but a fart compared to my Miyamoto family!" Han Feng provocatively beckoned with his finger. "Come on then, if you can't kill me, I'll wipe you out."
Kurosaki lunged forward like a ghost, his twin blades drawing two intersecting silver lines. Han Feng appeared to parry in a panic, but deliberately slowed down by half a beat. A sharp pain shot through his left shoulder; the short blade pierced his shoulder but couldn't go any further. He skillfully controlled the distance, and Kurosaki was taken aback, thinking that he wasn't fast enough. Han Feng groaned, his facial muscles contorted with "intense pain."
Just as Kurosaki was about to exert more force, Han Feng, who had been preparing for a long time, brought his two right fingers together, and the power of the stars condensed into a cold light at his fingertips, stabbing towards the Yanglingquan acupoint on the outside of Kurosaki's right calf like a venomous snake.
\"puff!\"
His fingertip pierced three inches into his flesh, and Kurosaki's pupils suddenly contracted. This seemingly casual strike actually contained the power of stars that pierced his meridians like fine needles. He staggered backward, his right leg twitching involuntarily.
"You...!" Kurosaki stared at Han Feng in disbelief. The other party was clearly seriously injured, yet his finger strike was terrifyingly accurate.
Han Feng clutched his "bleeding" shoulder and backed away, secretly channeling his stellar power to seal the pain receptors near the wound. His acting was flawless; his face was pale, his breathing erratic, and even cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Only he knew that the "serious injury" was nothing more than a superficial wound, not even touching the bone.
"The Makino family is nothing but trash. They might as well learn from your young master and get surgery to become a girl," Han Feng mocked, panting heavily, while secretly observing Kurosaki's reaction.
Sure enough, those words became the final straw that broke his reason. Kurosaki took a deep breath and suddenly crossed his two short blades in front of his chest, forming a strange hand seal. The surrounding shadows seemed to come alive, gathering at his feet like ink.
"Ninjutsu! Shadow Assassination!"
With a low shout, Kurosaki's figure suddenly split—no, not a real split, but an illusion created using light and high-speed movement. Four "Kurosaki" attacked simultaneously from four directions: front, back, left, and right, their kunai flashing with a deadly cold light.
"Ninjutsu? Looks like I was right." Han Feng's interest was truly piqued. He feigned panic and ducked, narrowly dodging the first attack from the dark figure. Then, he used his legs to propel himself to the side, avoiding the second blow. As the third short blade grazed the back of his neck, he deliberately let the tip of the blade draw out a drop of blood.
"Got you!" The last dark figure declared in victory, thrusting straight at Han Feng's back.
At the critical moment, Han Feng suddenly changed direction, his body slipping through the gaps in the four attacks like an eel. He didn't retaliate, but instead ran wildly towards the alley entrance, his back view looking as disheveled as could be.
"Don't even think about running!" Kurosaki dispelled his clone and, dragging his injured leg, gave chase relentlessly. His right leg, struck by pressure points, throbbed with excruciating pain with every step, but his samurai pride wouldn't allow him to let this severely wounded prey escape.
Han Feng's "escape" route was not chosen randomly. He deliberately selected dimly lit alleys with complex branching paths, and occasionally kicked over a few trash cans to create obstacles. When the thirty-story glass curtain wall building came into view, a barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips.
A commercial building belonging to the Ikegami family appeared prominently at the street corner in the distance.
When Han Feng was still fifty meters away from the building, he suddenly accelerated, displaying an explosive power inconsistent with his "seriously injured" appearance. He leaped up, grabbed the railing of the fire escape, and flipped up the stairs with the agility of a monkey. When he reached the third floor, he deliberately paused for a moment to make sure Kurosaki could see the sign at the main entrance of the building.
As expected, Kurosaki stopped the moment he saw the building clearly. He stared intently at Han Feng's figure disappearing through the window, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. He understood better than anyone that trespassing on the territory of an enemy family was tantamount to declaring war.
"Damn it..." Kurosaki pulled out his phone and dialed Makino Yuta's private number. "Master, the young master's genitals were kicked and crippled. I just chased after him and injured the culprit, but he got away."
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