162: Chapter 162 Liquidation

A flare gun?!

Song Yang's mind went blank for a moment.

Faced with this Black Dragon, what use could a survival flare be?

Was it supposed to be fireworks to liven things up for it?

“Do as I say!”

Zeus's voice was as cold as ice. “The activation method is to twist the buckle at the tail.”

Song Yang had no other choice.

He took out a metal flare nearly a meter long.

The Black Dragon's massive maw was large enough to swallow him in one bite!

Now!

Song Yang used all his strength and violently twisted the tail ring of the flare!

Without the slightest hesitation, he used every ounce of strength he had to hurl the heavy 'flare' right into that giant mouth!

The flare turned into a streak of black light, accurately plunging deep into the Black Dragon's maw.

In an instant, time seemed to be put into slow motion.

There was no explosion, no thunderous roar.

Only clusters of blinding pure white sparks burst open inside the Black Dragon's mouth!

Immediately after, smoke of various colors gushed out at an incredible speed!

They instantly filled the Black Dragon's oral cavity, blocked its throat, and even squeezed out from the gaps between its teeth.

The smoke diffused, obscuring vision until nothing could be seen.

For the first time, astonishment and panic appeared in the Black Dragon's golden vertical pupils.

Its massive body twisted and rolled frantically in mid-air; stimulated by the intense pain in its mouth, it could no longer maintain flight and fell straight toward the sea.

Countless columns of water shot into the sky, then crashed down like waterfalls.

“This is a High-Polymer Signaling Agent.”

“An antique from three thousand years ago. It releases heat beyond human imagination and emits a massive amount of smoke.”

“This Black Dragon is too busy to deal with you for now. Retreat quickly, or it will recover soon.”

Song Yang snapped back to his senses, looked at the behemoth struggling frantically in the sea and turning the entire area upside down, then flew toward the city without looking back.

Soon, the silhouette of Dahai City became clear again.

The Black Dragon did not pursue him further.

The tightly wound string in Song Yang's heart finally relaxed a little.

Monsters had already evolved to this extent.

He had to grow stronger faster; in this apocalypse, any stagnation was equivalent to suicide.

Passing by the Shelter, Song Yang paused briefly and landed on the outskirts.

The patrolling Soldiers saw him and immediately straightened their chests, saluting in unison, their eyes filled with undisguised reverence and fervor.

News had already spread that it was this man who had slain Du Yaohua and saved the Old Director's life.

Walking deep into the Shelter, a little girl with a dirty face stood on tiptoe and handed him a candy she had been clutching for a long time.

Song Yang was stunned for a moment, took it, and casually manifested more candy for the little girl.

He didn't stay long; after confirming the Shelter was operating as usual, he took to the sky again, flying toward a building in the city center.

The Japanese Embassy.

As Koizumi Jiro had said, it was as silent as a tomb.

In the lobby on the first floor of the embassy, Song Yang easily found a hidden door leading underground.

It was hidden behind a massive Ukiyo-e mural, blending seamlessly with the surrounding wooden structure.

A long, narrow staircase led straight down into the bottomless darkness.

Song Yang did not hesitate and stepped down.

In the basement at the end of the stairs, warm yellow lights illuminated several rooms with tatami mats and sliding shoji doors.

Seven or eight Japanese people were either standing or sitting, talking in low voices in Japanese.

When Song Yang's figure emerged from the dark staircase, all conversation stopped abruptly.

A burly man with a buzz cut and a Hannya tattoo on his neck immediately stood up, followed by two equally menacing bodyguards.

In broken Chinese, he looked Song Yang up and down, his eyes full of undisguised contempt and scrutiny.

“Who are you? This isn't a place you should be.”

Song Yang's gaze bypassed him, scanning the others in the room.

An old man in a dark kimono was sitting cross-legged in the seat of honor, slowly and methodically wiping a short blade, as if everything outside had nothing to do with him.

Seeing Song Yang didn't respond, the buzz-cut man grew impatient and reached out to grab Song Yang's collar.

“I'm asking you a question, are you a mute?!”

His hand hadn't even touched Song Yang yet.

A hand clamped around his throat.

The arrogance on the buzz-cut man's face instantly turned to horror; he tried to struggle, but found his boasted brute strength was as laughable as a baby's before the opponent.

Song Yang didn't even look at him, simply staring calmly at the old man wiping the blade.

“Crack—!”

With a crisp sound of bone snapping, the man's head tilted to one side at a bizarre angle, and his body slumped down lifelessly, making no more sound.

Dead silence.

The pupils of the remaining people shrank; a younger bodyguard, the color instantly draining from his face, tremblingly pulled a handgun from his jacket.

“Baka!”

He roared, as if to bolster his courage, and violently pulled the trigger.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

The gunshots rang out in the enclosed space, making eardrums ache.

The bullets hit Song Yang squarely in the chest.

However, the expected spray of blood did not bloom.

Those bullets seemed to hit an invisible steel plate; the heads were compressed into irregular iron discs, making a 'cling-clang' sound as they fell powerlessly onto the wooden floor.

The bodyguard who fired stared blankly at this scene, unable to believe it.

The old man wiping the samurai sword finally made a move.

He carefully placed the blade back into its scabbard and then stood up.

“All of you, step back.”

The remaining bodyguards looked at each other, but ultimately didn't dare to disobey; they hesitantly backed away, though their eyes remained locked on Song Yang and their hands never left their waists.

The old man stood up; barefoot, he stepped on the cold wooden floor, walking toward Song Yang step by step before stopping three paces away.

His cloudy old eyes were now as sharp as a hawk's, staring directly into Song Yang's eyes.

“Koizumi-kun and the others are already dead, aren't they?”

“I can feel it. You came here to wipe us out completely.”

The old man gave Song Yang a deep look, then suddenly bowed ninety degrees toward him, his white-haired head almost reaching his waist.

“I am the Japanese Ambassador to Dahai City, Yamamoto Ryuichi. All sins began with me.

I am willing to commit seppuku here to atone for my crimes, only asking that your Excellency show mercy and spare everyone else here.”

Song Yang shook his head.

Yamamoto Ryuichi slowly straightened up; the humility and pleading on his face vanished without a trace, replaced by bone-chilling ruthlessness and madness.

“Since your Excellency is unwilling to accept a warrior's atonement...”

“Then use your blood to wash away this arrogance!”

Before his voice had even faded, he stomped his foot and lunged forward instead of retreating; his right hand darted out from the wide sleeve of his kimono, a flash of silver aiming straight for Song Yang's throat!

It wasn't the sword he had just been wiping, but another samurai short blade!

But in the next moment, Yamamoto Ryuichi froze.

His proud Iaijutsu strike was abruptly stopped mid-way.

That precious blade, capable of cutting through iron like butter, was now being pinched between two fingers of a single hand.

The edge was only an inch away from Song Yang's neck.

“Snap—!”

Yamamoto Ryuichi's pupils constricted sharply as he watched his beloved sword, which he valued as much as his life, being snapped into two pieces by the other's hand.

“Clang.”

As the half-blade fell to the ground, a red longsword pierced through his chest.