Chapter 567: Complete Defeat of Hatsumi Sen, Brutal Beating of Kure Raian
Up in the spectator stands, Kure Raian leaned against the railing, a dark smirk twisting his features as he evaluated Ren's physique. He had initially pegged the chef as a frail, soft-handed civilian, but seeing him under the arena lights revealed a dense, coiled substance to his musculature. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a boring slaughter after all.
Kure Erioh turned his head slightly as a man in a tailored suit approached, wearing a perfectly practiced, diplomatic smile. The bodyguards flanking the VIP section didn't even attempt to stop him.
Katahara Metsudo let out a booming laugh. "Nogi! You actually managed to drag Hatsumi Sen out here in person! It seems you're absolutely terrified of losing this one!"
Nogi Hideki adjusted his glasses, his smile unwavering. "Chairman Katahara loves to joke. You likely haven't paid much attention to these smaller-scale Kengan matches in quite some time. This man standing in the arena, Ren... it is no exaggeration to call him a monster."
Erioh scoffed, a harsh, grating sound. "A monster? You dare speak of monsters while standing in the presence of the Kure clan?"
Beside the elderly patriarch, Kure Karura paid absolutely no attention to the old men's bickering. Her wide, fascinated eyes were glued to the two combatants casually chatting down in the arena. Raian merely clicked his tongue, his expression dripping with disdain.
Nogi kept his polite smile. "He knocked out Sekibayashi Jun in exactly three seconds."
Erioh opened his mouth to retort, but Nogi cut him off with a soft, chilling addendum. "Three seconds, Elder Kure. And that included the time it took to cross the distance between them."
That gave Erioh pause. The old man's eyes narrowed slightly. They all knew of Sekibayashi Jun, the 'Hell's Angel' of pro wrestling. He wasn't the absolute pinnacle of the underground, but his durability was legendary. To completely incapacitate a super-heavyweight of that caliber in three seconds... what kind of freakish existence was this chef?
Down in the arena, Hatsumi Sen scratched the back of his head, letting out a lazy, drawn-out laugh. "Hahahahaha! What did you just say? Your main business is running a restaurant? Hey, hey, hey, are you serious? Where is it? I'll have to drop by for a bite if I ever get some free time."
"Let's talk about reservations after the fight," Ren replied, his tone perfectly flat. "I still have a package to pick up, and I'd rather not be late."
The regulars in the audience were already well-acquainted with Ren's dry, business-first personality. Hatsumi, for his part, seemed highly amused. Finding such a laid-back combatant was a rare treat. Uncharacteristically motivated, Hatsumi stripped off his loose top, tossed it aside, and rolled his shoulders until the joints popped. "Alright then. Let's begin!"
Ren gave a single, brief nod.
The very next fraction of a second, Hatsumi's pupils contracted into pinpricks. Ren had simply vanished from his field of vision.
When the chef reappeared, it was already too late. A leg was whipping directly toward Hatsumi's neck, cutting through the air with a vicious hiss. Relying purely on his elite instincts, Hatsumi threw both arms up to block the strike.
An extremely unscientific, deafening crack rang out through the arena.
Hatsumi was launched backward, his feet leaving the concrete as he skidded across the arena floor. When he finally stabilized himself, angry purple bruises were already blossoming rapidly across both of his forearms.
Up in the stands, Raian's eyes widened in genuine shock before a manic grin split his face. "Hey, hey, hey! Is that brute force for real?! Gahahaha! Now this is getting interesting!"
Hatsumi shook his stinging arms, his lazy demeanor evaporating into sharp focus. "You're really something else, you know that? If that's the case... wait, what?!"
Before Hatsumi could even finish his sentence, Ren materialized directly inside his guard. What followed was an unbroken, suffocating barrage of strikes. Hatsumi desperately slipped and parried, waiting for the inevitable moment Ren would have to draw a breath to reset his tempo. To his absolute horror, he realized Ren wasn't breathing at all. The chef's expression remained entirely placid, his heart rate seemingly unchanged as he unleashed a storm of violence.
Sensing a microscopic shift in Ren's joint alignment, Hatsumi saw his opening. He stepped in, preparing to execute his signature technique: Gathering Clouds: Triple Strike.
But Ren simply freed one hand. With a casual, almost dismissive flick of his wrist, he deflected Hatsumi's kinetic force, completely parrying the arm aside. Then, Hatsumi watched in sheer, paralyzed disbelief as Ren perfectly mirrored his stance and executed the exact same Gathering Clouds: Triple Strike against him.
In the split second Hatsumi's focus shattered, Ren delivered a brutal whip kick that launched the Aikido master completely off the ground. As Ren raised his leg high to deliver a devastating axe kick to finish it, Hatsumi desperately twisted in mid-air, grappling Ren's elevated leg to drag him down.
Ren didn't even blink. He arched his back, using Hatsumi's own gripping momentum to hurl the man higher into the air. Pivoting on his planted foot, Ren followed up with a blindingly fast spinning back kick aimed squarely at Hatsumi's exposed chest.
But the crushing impact never came.
Instead of kicking Hatsumi into the concrete walls, Ren simply extended his arms, caught the falling fighter by the waist, and casually tossed him aside onto the floor. Had that spinning kick connected with its intended force, Hatsumi would have been drinking his meals through a straw in the intensive care unit for the next six months.
At the announcer's desk, Sayaka Katahara stared blankly at the monitors. "Art... this is the work of an impeccable fighter! Speed, strength, technique—every single aspect is exceptionally flawless!"
Erioh leaned forward, his knuckles white on the railing. "Ho! This kid..."
Metsudo's dark eyes gleamed with manic delight. The veteran monsters in the VIP box had all noticed the most terrifying detail: Ren hadn't shed a single drop of sweat.
Nogi exhaled a long, shaky breath. "Thankfully, he held back."
Metsudo threw his head back and cackled. "Hahahaha! Nogi! Even if he pulled his punches, the match is pretty much over, isn't it!"
Nogi shook his head slowly. "No... you misunderstand, Chairman. Up until this very second, Mr. Ren has been completely playing around. He once told me that he will only consider getting slightly serious if an opponent can actually make him sweat."
Metsudo blinked, genuinely startled. Erioh opened his mouth to speak, only to suddenly realize the space beside him was empty.
Karura whipped her head around, her voice ringing out in panic. "Grandpa! Raian just left! He said he's going down there to kill him!"
Before Erioh could issue a command, Nogi adjusted his glasses, his voice dropping to a grim whisper. "Elder Kure, I highly suggest you arrange for an emergency trauma team to be on standby for Mr. Raian. Attacking Mr. Ren with genuine lethal intent will have dire consequences."
Erioh said nothing, his piercing gaze snapping back to the arena.
Without a word of warning, Kure Raian vaulted the barricade and charged at Ren like a rabid dog. He threw a vicious haymaker aimed at the back of the chef's head. Ren didn't even turn around. He casually raised a hand, blocking the heavy strike with his palm, then tilted his head slightly.
"Is this considered overtime?" Ren asked the empty air.
Raian roared, unleashing a flurry of bloodthirsty punches. Ren casually swayed and stepped backward, dodging every single strike by mere millimeters. Frustrated by hitting nothing but air, Raian lunged forward with his entire body weight.
Ren simply extended his hand. His fingers clamped over Raian's face like a steel vice. With a sharp pivot of his hips, he slammed the Kure assassin face-first into the concrete floor, cracking the stone beneath them.
"Did some mental hospital forget to lock your cage?" Ren asked in a deep, unimpressed voice.
Raian lay motionless for a fraction of a second. Up in the stands, Erioh's face drained of color. "Raian! Stop! How dare you casually display the secret technique in public! Raian!"
Ren looked down at the purple, bulging veins suddenly crawling across Raian's skin. The chef tilted his head, his tone analytical. "A secret art designed to forcefully unleash the body's latent potential, huh."
Up in the stands, Kure Henzo, Karura, and the rest of the clan froze. He had seen through the mechanics of the Removal at a single glance?
Raian slowly pushed himself up off the shattered concrete, his skin turning a deep, demonic purple as his body steamed. He let out a wet, psychotic laugh. "So you figured it out! Now, die!"
Ren let out a long, tired sigh. He looked up toward the VIP box. "Boss over there, will there be overtime pay for this?"
Nogi leaned over the railing, shouting frantically. "Yes! Yes, absolutely!"
"OK," Ren muttered, turning his attention back to the purple-skinned freak charging at him. "Why do you think multiplying a fraction of a fraction by a hundred suddenly makes it a whole number?"
Ren didn't dodge. He simply twisted his neck, planted his feet, and met Raian's full-power Removal punch head-on with his own fist.
The sickening crunch of bone echoed through the silent arena.
Everyone in the stands stared in absolute shock. Kure Raian's entire right arm was shattered, the bones splintered and hanging limply at an unnatural angle.
Ren's eyes narrowed into cold, dangerous slits. "Your killing intent is a bit too heavy for a public venue. I'll teach you some manners."
With that, Ren moved at a speed that completely defied human perception. His ankles shifted twice, producing two sharp whooshing sounds that tore through the air. Before anyone could blink, Raian was suddenly on his knees.
Ren grabbed the assassin by the face again, dragging him downward as he drove a devastating knee strike directly into Raian's sternum. In a singular, explosive motion resembling the blinding draw of an Iaijutsu strike, Ren lifted him and slammed him down.
Raian violently coughed up a massive mouthful of dark blood, his eyes rolling back into his head.
Ren casually wiped his hands, turning his head toward the VIP stands where Erioh and the others were frozen in disbelief. "Aren't you going to take him for emergency treatment? All the bones in his upper chest cavity are shattered. You should move him carefully; be mindful of the bone fragments piercing his internal organs."
Erioh stared at the chef, his jaw completely slack.
Ren ignored the stunned patriarch, looking directly at Nogi with a polite smile. "Remember to wire the ten million yen for the overtime pay. That's all for today, gentlemen. See you around."
With his hands tucked casually into his pockets, Ren turned and walked toward the exit tunnel.
Erioh finally snapped out of his stupor. Letting out a frantic shout, the proud Kure patriarch, along with Katahara Metsudo and their bodyguards, scrambled out of the VIP box, rushing after the chef in what was undoubtedly the first hurried chase of their long, arrogant lives.
Watching them go, Nogi Hideki slumped back into his chair, letting out a heavy sigh.
"Monster..."
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