# 611
**Chapter 612 – Breaking Down the Door**
The instant the gunshot rang out, Lin Qiye snapped his head up.
He was currently at the last place the gangsters had appeared on the surveillance feed, sweeping the area with his mental perception. When he heard the shot, his brows knitted tightly.
The gunfire wasn’t far from them—still inside the western district.
Hongyan and Black Pupil both looked at him.
“Let’s go,” Lin Qiye ordered without hesitation.
…
A tremendous impact slammed into her back. Yuzuri Nana crashed to the ground, a stifled groan escaping as searing pain flared across her spine.
Dazed, she lay there, ears ringing.
That was… a gun?
They have guns?
The thugs swarmed forward and hauled her up. Iwamai Yūsuke, revolver in hand, narrowed his eyes and stepped in front of her.
His gaze swept over her body—no wound, no blood.
“Missed…? Or did she just faint from fright?” he muttered.
He’d never meant to kill her; he only needed to stop her from escaping. If she actually died, he’d be finished. He’d aimed for a non-vital spot, but his hand had jerked—still, the result was the same.
“Feisty little bitch, daring to set me up.” He seized her hair, yanked her face to his, and sneered, “Go on—run again if you’ve got the guts.”
Yuzuri Nana pressed her lips shut, silent.
“Drag her back. Bolt the gate. Two of you keep watch for cops.” Iwamai strode into the warehouse, barking orders.
The shot had drawn every thug within earshot—thirty or forty of them. They hustled Yuzuri Nana inside and heaved the heavy doors shut.
She was dumped again on the concrete floor. Iwamai crouched, pinched her cheeks, and lifted her head.
“I’ll ask one last time: did your parents leave you anything valuable—or special?” His eyes were ice.
She met his stare and enunciated, “No. Nothing.”
Iwamai studied her a moment, then closed his eyes, stood, and settled back onto the leather sofa.
“Kūtarō.”
“Here, boss!” A vicious-looking thug stepped forward.
“Cut off one of her fingers.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kūtarō drew a dagger from his waist and advanced with a grin.
Yuzuri Nana watched him come, terror blooming in her eyes. She bit her lip until it was bloodless.
She wasn’t some fearless hero—just a twelve-year-old girl. At the threat of losing a finger, tears welled uncontrollably.
No way out, no tricks left—only despair.
Her eyes held hurt, fear, fury, confusion.
She had prayed so devoutly, begged the gods countless times to drive off the evil around her and give her peace… Why was this the answer?
She’d barely left the shrine, still beneath the gods’ gaze, when they grabbed her and broke her. Did the gods truly not see?
Do the gods… even exist?
Helpless, she lay there, tears sliding down her cheeks, and slowly shut her eyes.
BANG—!!
Just as Kūtarō raised the blade, the warehouse door exploded inward, the deafening roar rolling over them.
Everyone froze, whipping around.
The metal gate tore like paper, shards clanging to the floor. Dust billowed up, drifting in the sunlight now pouring through the breach.
Outside stood a red-haired woman in a cyan orderly’s uniform, golden vertical pupils coldly surveying the room, her clenched right fist unclenching—it had just punched the door apart.
She stepped aside, bowed her head in deference, as if awaiting someone.
A figure in a black windbreaker, hands in pockets and wearing a Sun Wukong mask, emerged from the drifting dust.
His gaze swept the thugs, settled on Yuzuri Nana, then on the knife in Kūtarō’s hand. Killing intent flashed.
“Hey, asshole—who the hell are?!” A bleached thug stepped forward, tongue clicking. “Where’re our two lookouts? Why didn’t they—”
Lin Qiye glanced at him, uninterested in conversation.
“Kill everyone except the one on the sofa.”
“My pleasure.”
Black Pupil’s voice echoed in Lin Qiye’s ear. A pool of black liquid shot from Lin Qiye’s shadow, struck the bleached thug, and swallowed him whole in an instant.
A crimson eye opened on the thug’s forehead, glowing eerily.
The bizarre sight stunned the gang; by the time they thought to run or fight, it was too late.
Hongyan blurred, charging into the pack. One kick, carrying dragon-force, shattered bones and sent several thugs flying like ragdolls to crumple on the ground.
The rest finally reacted, swinging pipes, knives, bottles—only to see them snap, shatter, and break against her skin. They stared at the ruined weapons, dumbstruck.
Hongyan’s golden, dragon-willed pupils narrowed.
Black Pupil, now piloting the bleached thug, sidestepped a baseball bat, flicked open a butterfly knife, and slid it casually into an attacker’s throat.
Against the two of them, the gang had no chance—it was pure slaughter.