Hikaru's gaze swept coldly across the courtyard.
"Leave one alive," he said to Chinatsu.
She nodded firmly and began walking forward.
Their sudden appearance—and the mysterious disappearance of all the children—instantly sent the kidnappers into panic.
"Who the hell are you people?!" the leader shouted, voice shaking with fear and suspicion. "Where did you take those kids?!"
Chinatsu didn't answer. She never wasted words on the dying.
She dashed forward, targeting the man who had wielded the whip earlier—Lao San.
Seeing her charge, the leader snarled and barked, "Kill her! Cut that woman down!"
Lao San grinned wickedly, swinging his whip with all his strength.
But to his surprise, Chinatsu didn't even try to dodge. She met the strike head‑on, her fist surging forward.
The whip cracked sharply against her arm—then shattered into countless fragments.
Before Lao San could even process what had happened, Chinatsu's fist slammed into his chest.
A thunderous boom echoed through the courtyard.
Lao San's body contorted grotesquely as he hit the ground, crushed into a pulp of broken flesh and bone.
The courtyard fell silent.
Chinatsu's Monster Strength training had clearly paid off.
Every single onlooker drew a sharp breath. Even the hardened criminals looked pale.
The leader swallowed hard. His so‑called Iron Body Technique felt utterly worthless in front of that raw, overwhelming power.
He doubted he could withstand even a single blow.
The sheer gap in strength filled him with despair—but he knew he couldn't show weakness. If he did, the others would crumble completely.
He forced down his fear and roared, "Don't be afraid! She's just one person! We've got numbers—get her!"
But his words carried no weight.
Before the echo faded, Chinatsu's figure blurred—and reappeared beside another thug.
He didn't even manage a scream before her iron fist drove through his chest.
A deafening crack filled the air as his body exploded like a rag doll—blood and fragments splattering across the ground.
That was enough to shatter whatever courage the rest still had.
Their morale broke completely.
Weapons clattered to the ground. One after another, they dropped to their knees, bowing frantically.
"Spare us, please! We were forced into this!"
"Mercy, great lady! We'll never do it again!"
The leader stared, horrified, as his men begged for their lives. He felt the noose tighten around his own neck.
He knew it was over.
Still, he tried to take one last chance—slipping backward, step by step, until he suddenly turned and bolted toward the wall.
He nearly made it over before slamming face‑first into an invisible barrier.
BANG!
Reeling from the impact, he clutched his face and looked up in disbelief. The courtyard wall shimmered faintly with light—like a glowing veil of energy.
He tried again, slamming into it with all his might—but the result was the same.
The barrier held firm, as solid as forged steel.
Then… silence.
Slowly, he turned around—and froze.
Every single one of his subordinates now lay sprawled across the ground in pools of blood. Not one still breathed.
The courtyard reeked of iron and death.
And walking toward him was Chinatsu—her expression calm, her steps light, her white clothes completely unstained despite the carnage.
He wanted to beg for mercy, but his throat locked up. Only broken whimpers escaped his lips.
Chinatsu reached him and, without emotion, shattered all four of his limbs with precise strikes.
He screamed—then nearly blacked out from the agony.
She grabbed the limp, trembling man by the collar and dragged him back to Hikaru.
"Do you want me to read his memories?"
Her voice was steady, detached—like discussing the weather.
But to the broken leader, those words were a death sentence.
He knew what it meant. If she invaded his mind, all his secrets would be laid bare—and afterward, he'd have no value left. Only death awaited.
Yet what happened next took him by surprise.
Hikaru looked at him expressionlessly and said, "No. I want him to say it himself."
The man's eyes widened. Hope flickered where despair had been.
Tears streamed down his face. "I was wrong! I'll tell you everything! Just—please—spare me!"
His voice trembled, pathetic and desperate—a pitiful contrast to the cruelty he'd shown before.
Hikaru's lips curled into a faint, icy smile.
He snapped his fingers.
The leader froze.
Then—burned.
Invisible flames erupted inside his body, searing him from within.
He convulsed violently, clawing at his chest, his mouth twisting in a silent scream.
No sound escaped him—only hoarse, strangled gasps.
The flames spread mercilessly, consuming flesh and bone until his entire body crumbled into black ash.
His final expression was one of terror and disbelief.
Moments later, even that vanished.
Chinatsu opened her mouth to speak—but before she could, the ashes on the ground began to stir.
They gathered together, reshaping—rewinding like time itself.
Within seconds, the man stood there again, gasping for breath as if clawed back from hell.
His eyes were wide with shock and horror—but deep beneath the fear was a flicker of desperate hope.
Hikaru's gaze, however, was colder than ever.
"Don't rush," he said evenly.
"Die a dozen more times—then I'll listen."