But with the atmosphere already built up, Mitsuhide felt that if he turned tail and ran now, this Chassis would be socially dead in Night City. He stubbornly raised his blade to meet Takemura.
The whistling of blades and the low growls of the two men echoed in the middle of the riverbed.
As the saying goes, the shorter the inch, the greater the danger.
As the two swung their blades, they simultaneously dodged the other's weapon.
The space between the flashing blades was incredibly perilous; one moment of carelessness from either man would lead to them being caught in the opponent's woven offensive, leading to eternal doom and inability to recover.
Blades collided, sending sparks flying.
Both men gasped for breath, crashing into each other like raging bulls, neither willing to yield.
But the next second, Takemura proved superior. The hand gripping the hilt suddenly shifted, delivering an elbow strike right to Mitsuhide's face.
This force was enough to elbow open a helicopter door.
Ah, it's Landa.
Just as this thought flashed through Mitsuhide's mind, his vision blurred, and he stumbled backward.
The fragile equilibrium they had barely maintained flipped completely at this moment.
Takemura gave Mitsuhide no chance to recover, following up with quick steps, swinging his katana down and up.
With two loud *kua-kua* sounds, two large gashes were cut into Mitsuhide's chest armor.
In his haste, Mitsuhide dragged his blade across in a horizontal sweep.
But this powerless attack was easily dodged by Takemura, who shifted backward. Next, he reversed his grip on the blade and, with another upward swing, smashed the hilt onto Mitsuhide's head.
The strike made his helmet rattle and his head ring.
I'm BBQ'd.
This was the only thought left in the ringing head of Mitsuhide.
Staggered by the heavy blow, Mitsuhide lost his balance and fell to the ground.
He struggled to swing the blade in his hand forward in a desperate stab, but the prepared Takemura avoided it.
A kick landed on Mitsuhide's abdominal armor, sending him sprawling face-up on the ground, his blade falling away to the side.
Now, he was completely finished.
Looking up at the bright midday sun, Mitsuhide had a bad feeling, because the next second, Takemura stood astride him.
"Rest easy as you depart for Tokoyo, Samurai!"
After giving Mitsuhide one last look, Takemura gripped the blade with both hands, point downward, raising the hilt high to deliver the final blow to Mitsuhide.
"Bang!!!"
Just as Mitsuhide was staring at Takemura's deadpan face in the shadow, and the highlight reel of this Chassis's life began playing in his mind, a gunshot, like a bolt from the blue, rescued him from his predicament.
As if suddenly struck by a whip, Takemura's head snapped sideways, and he collapsed face-first onto the ground.
"What the hell are you waiting for? Grab the guy and run!"
Only after this shout did Mitsuhide react. He turned his head and saw Panam, holding a massive sniper rifle and looking anxious, standing next to the "thunderclap" off-road vehicle.
Shit, she seems to be right.
Mitsuhide was clearly someone who knew how to seize an opportunity.
He grabbed the blade that had fallen from his grasp, scrambled up, and rushed toward the black luxury sedan Takemura had driven.
He violently yanked open the car door. In the back seat, a man in a suit with his eyes tightly shut was securely bound with ropes.
Like carrying a bride, Mitsuhide hastily grabbed the man, hoisted him over his shoulder, and ran toward Panam's vehicle without looking back.
"Kishuku! Samurai, that is despicable!"
The rising Takemura could only see Mitsuhide's cowardly fleeing figure and was instantly furious.
We agreed on a fair duel.
Why did you pull out a massive sniper rifle?
"Don't you dare take another step!"
Just as Takemura attempted to pursue, a stern female voice delivered a timely warning.
Panam was still guarding the vehicle, pointing her pink-painted "Ice Blast" sniper rifle directly at Takemura.
"Damn it, that woman too!"
Takemura, who had fallen to the ground, was covered in dirt and sand, looking extremely disheveled.
He clutched his shoulder, blood leaking through the gaps between his fingers.
It was the bullet from earlier.
In that flash of lightning, Takemura only managed to turn his head slightly, causing the bullet, originally aimed at his skull, to hit his shoulder instead.
Clearly, having grown up within the Corporation and lacking common social sense, he had just witnessed what true malice was like.
Someone could pull out a sniper rifle for an ambush during a fair duel.
But unfortunately, Panam was a Nomad.
There was no such thing as a "fair duel" in a Nomad family.
Only the cautionary wisdom: if the opponent is tough, everyone jumps in together.
So this time, Takemura had failed.
He could only watch helplessly as Mitsuhide, carrying the unconscious Anders, ran like a runaway stray dog, quickly diving into the back seat of Panam's car without looking back.
It was just that Mitsuhide didn't have the time right now.
If he did, he would definitely say:
You know nothing. Daring to fight and daring to flee—that is the true model of a warrior family.
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