Returning to the Mysterious Era

Chapter 253 - Bloodbath Begins

In Mia City, at the Red Falcon Fist Headquarters.

The headquarters consisted of a hall that mixed the archaic with the new, with old wooden structures in modern buildings. From the sky, the enormous light-yellow hall looked trapezoidal: narrower in the front and wider in the back.

The street wasn't in a residential or commercial area, so the buildings were spaced far apart and there weren’t many people passing by. However, today was a little different, as the sound of gunfire broke the usual quiet. Figures dressed in black, with white rose emblems embroidered on their shoulders, were moving along the street where Red Falcon Fist was located.

They had cold, fierce expressions, and their bulging waists suggested they were carrying firearms as they moved to seal off the area.

Inside the hall, two groups were locked in fierce combat as they exchanged brutal hand-to-hand blows. Judging by their speed and strength, it was clear that both sides were Covert Martial Arts Practitioners. The side led by an elderly man with a goatee had the upper hand, since he was being aided by elite gunmen in black who provided either fire support or suppressive cover.

It's worth noting that ordinary Covert Martial Arts Practitioners didn’t hold a significant advantage against firearms. Even Cassius had to train in hardening Qigong alongside his pugilist skills to not fear light machine gun fire. Typically, even a handgun could pose a threat to an unsuspecting pugilist who practiced Covert Martial Arts.

Of course, this assumed the bullets hit their mark. A pugilist had speed and agility far beyond human limits, so they could dodge a hail of bullets. A single squad of elite gunmen posed little threat to them. However, a sharpshooter could often land a critical hit if they were hindered by a pugilist of equal strength.

The balance of power between the elders was initially quite close. Both sides had a similar number of elders, with only slight differences in skill. If no one had interfered, the fight would likely have dragged on for a long time. But the sharpshooters from the White Rose assassin camp broke that equilibrium.

Bang, bang, bang!

Two figures were locked in close combat in the white stone passageway. They both fought using similar pugilist styles. Dyson, the Great Elder of Red Falcon Fist, lunged forward, and twisted to deliver a powerful spinning strike. The force of the blow shattered his opponent's defenses.

The Second Elder of Red Falcon Fist staggered back a few steps.

Bang!

Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot rang out in the distance. Sensing danger, the Second Elder hastily quickly turned his head to the side. A bullet grazed his cheek, leaving a thin red line behind. Before he could catch his breath, an elbow strike hurtled toward him. Dyson had taken advantage of the distraction to charge forward.

The Second Elder hastily intercepted the blow with a palm, but it was clear his strength had waned. Dyson's elbow thrust the palm back and slammed into his chest, sending the Second Elder flying three to four meters.

The Second Elder let out a muffled grunt as he quickly leaped backward and disappeared out the end of the passage in a series of flashing movements.

Tap, tap, tap...

Footsteps echoed on the stone road as three to four gunmen in black swiftly moved forward. Dyson raised a hand, signaling them to stop chasing. "Charles is already wounded. Let's play it safe. Drive them back step by step and take control of the rest of the hall first. Once they're surrounded, they won't be able to escape."

The Second Elder and his group had been forced into the dormitories for the instructors and students of the headquarters. A figure flashed through the shadows of the passageway and suddenly somersaulted into the air, somersaulting in mid-air before landing on a balcony.

"Cough, cough...

A thin, frail, elderly white-haired man in combat gear stood in the sunlight. He raised his hand and found bruises covering both his palm and the back of his hand. When he gently pressed on his left pectoral, he winced as waves of pain radiated from his skin and muscles.

Footsteps echoed from the stairs leading up to the balcony. Several people rushed up to the second floor, halting abruptly when they saw the elder.

"Elder Charles!"

The old man nodded and coughed again. "Where's Neve? And what about the Fourth, Sixth, and Seventh Elders?"

"Junior Sister Neve is in the building to the left, along with the Fourth Elder and some senior brothers. The Seventh Elder is in the building to the right; he's severely injured. As for the Sixth Elder, we haven't seen him," the disciple leading them reported solemnly.

Charles, the Second Elder, took a deep breath. The absence of the Sixth Elder was a clear sign. He was either still retreating or had been captured and badly wounded. If he had resisted too fiercely, he could have been killed. Charles was leaning more toward the possibility of him being captured.

He quickly moved into the second-floor corridor and looked out through the window at the path he had taken. Several gunmen dressed in black were barely visible around the corners, while traitors in combat gear were peering in his direction from inside the building.

"What's Dyson up to? Surrounding the dorms? Is he afraid we'll fight to the death and make him pay dearly?"

Charles slapped his chest three times, and the sharp pain faded. He took a deep breath as he pondered for a moment. "I originally thought Dyson and Luen just had a few grudges, but I didn't expect Dyson to make this kind of move! Luen is still attending the Evil Eye Fist gathering..."

"I don’t think the Fourth Elder, a severely injured Seventh Elder, and I can hold on for much longer."

Charles was worried and furious. How dare Dyson! When the old sect master returned from the Loka Mountains, he'll definitely rip Dyson’s head off!

Charles took a deep breath and muttered to himself, "Evil Eye Fist, Eastern Nine Sects, Eastern Alliance plans... If Dyson really gains control of Red Falcon Fist, it might already be too late, even if the old sect master returns... Blood Fist is getting too old..."

Meanwhile...

Vroom!

The sound of an engine suddenly rang out near the entrance to the street where the Red Falcon Fist hall was located. Several patrolling gunmen in black converged on the noise, one hand on their pistols.

Whoosh!

A black, square-headed car suddenly shot around the corner. Its engine roared at full throttle as it sped down the street.

The gunmen drew their pistols without hesitation and opened fire. Bullets struck the sides of the car, sending sparks flying through the air. The car's windows shattered, the glass raining down like a transparent shower. A bullet zipped through the shards, spinning through the air as it left a vacuum behind it. But a long, slender, white hand caught the bullet in midair. A slight squeeze crushed the bullet instantly.

Cassius glanced at the gunman who was vigorously firing on his car a dozen meters away, and decided to teach him a lesson about what a handgun really meant. A flick of his wrist sent the deformed bullet back toward the gunman. The air seemed to burst with a sound like a balloon popping.

Thirty meters away, on the grayish-white sidewalk, a hitman who had been energetically firing his handgun suddenly jerked. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed.

A black-clad gunman nearby heard the thud and turned his head slightly.

"Ben?"

The gunman hurried over, only to find a spurt of blood on the wall behind and a deep bullet hole. Looking down, he confirmed that Ben had been shot in the head. There was a dark, bleeding hole in the center of his forehead.

"Damn, how did he die? Did they have guns?"

As the black-clad man muttered angrily and looked up, he suddenly felt his head buzz as a deafening noise filled his ears. His head tilted, and he collapsed onto Ben's body. That was how he died.

The hall was surrounded by a white wall, and its entrance was guarded by five gunmen. When they saw the vehicle careening through the street toward them, the squad leader pulled out a grenade, half-stepped out, and threw it.

The dust of the explosion filled the air, as the entire squad split to flank the car and shoot its occupants. But a massive shadow appeared from within the explosion.

It was a car!

The gunmen had given Cassius a grenade, and Cassius responded in kind with a 1907 Federal-era luxury George car.

Boom!

The massive black shadow crashed down on the gunmen with a terrifying impact.

Crack, snap!

"Ahhh!!"

The sounds of bones breaking and screams shattered the air. A few guards died instantly from the impact, while the only one who had been standing further away was flung into the air. He slammed against the wall, coughing up blood in agony. It looked like his internal organs had been injured; he wouldn't survive for long.

Luen landed lightly in front of the hall. He opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. The black luxury car he had driven here had been very expensive; it seemed excessively lavish to use it for smashing people.

Bang, bang, bang, bang...

A hand landed on Luen’s shoulder as gunfire rang out. Cassius's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"I’ll leave the gunmen outside to you. It should be fine, right? I'm going in to enjoy myself..."

His tone was flat, but his words had an unsettling quality. Luen nodded. He weakly reminded, "Don't accidentally kill the wrong person."

"I understand."

Cassius took a few steps forward. He flexed his back, and seven to eight bullets fell to the ground, clinking as they hit the floor. His black trench coat was full of holes. The firearms had no effect on him.

Luen watched as Cassius strode into the hall. It seemed a red vapor was rising around his boots with each step. In a few blinks, he was enveloped in dense red mist, as if walking through fog. His silhouette seemed slightly distorted, as if he was now a giant humanoid raptor.

Luen took a deep breath.

Many, many people would die at the Red Falcon Fist headquarters today.

***

Inside the hall, the Fifth Elder and his disciple were walking down the path in the area closest to the entrance. They glanced at the black-clad gunmen passing by.

The young disciple couldn't help but frown and asked, "Teacher, are we really doing the right thing by collaborating with Evil Eye Fist? What if the old sect master comes back... After all, the Second Elder and the others are our..."

The Fifth Elder suddenly raised a hand to interrupt. "Those stubbornly clinging to the old ways will be crushed. What I want to tell you is, we are not collaborating with Evil Eye Fist."

"We are cooperating with the entire Eastern Nine Sects! What does a mad old fool count for in the face of the Eastern Nine Sects? Michael, you need to see the situation clearly."

He looked at his disciple and shook his head slightly. The Fifth Elder was disappointed in his disciple for clinging onto the past.

"Go and call your junior brother, Nawa."

"Okay." The young man nodded and took the left path that led directly to the eastern half of the Red Falcon Fist hall.

Suddenly, a voice called, "Who goes there!"

Bang!

Crack!

"Ah!"

The gunmen squad that had just passed them screamed. The Fifth Elder turned sharply to look. In the distance, a black shadow darted through the squad like lightning.

It was as if the shadow was reflecting all the gunmen’s fire, as the guns devoured the gunmen’s lives. The Fifth Elder's eyes widened as his entire body began to tremble. HIs blood surged with energy as he spread his limbs, preparing to assume a basic combat stance.

But the shadow, which was still a dozen meters away, suddenly materialized in front of the Fifth Elder. The Fifth Elder's outstretched right hand had been bent slightly, and the newcomer slipped into the space formed by his arm before he could even assume a defensive posture.

Swoosh!

A thin red line traced through the air. Blood streamed down the Fifth Elder's neck as his face was forever frozen in an expression of horror.

The man holding the head glanced at it and tossed it aside. The headless corpse thudded to the ground.

A White Rose gunmen squad who happened on the scene immediately raised their guns and started shooting. The squad leader held a submachine gun, firing bullets in a rapid barrage. The bullets all shot toward a single point.

Cassius raised his hands and his index fingers started to glow like rubies. They wavered slightly in the air, and two red fingertips elegantly traced through the air.

Bullets hit him all over, but Cassius didn’t so much as flinch. He resembled a heavy, immovable statue.

"One finger corresponds to one Death's Fang?" He muttered to himself.

A moment later, he was nothing but a blur as he leapt over ten meters. In the gunmen's widened eyes, Cassius's left hand moved like a conductor leading an orchestra as they tapped on the arms of the gunmen.

A flash of red, and three gunmen's arms were severed. The guns clattered to the ground. Before they could even scream, Cassius's right hand swung forward, drawing a dazzling, sinister red line across their necks.

Splat! Splat! Splat!

Several human fountains erupted in a final burst of blood.