Chapter Ten: The Submachine Gun in the Safe!

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Pisk and Ireland were conversing at the top level of the automobile company. The peripheral members of the organization, who had been assigned by Pisk to protect himself, were unaware of this. When it came to the urban legend of the half-human, half-ghost figure, they didn’t give it much thought. Although this mysterious figure had indeed killed numerous peripheral members during operations, those were just ambushes—unexpected incidents.

Within the automobile company, dozens of black-clad gunmen guarded every nook and cranny. Even the boldest urban legend wouldn’t dare to sneak in here to commit murder. The peripheral members checked the firearms in their hands, growing more confident. Their weapons were not limited to pistols; Pisk had even prepared several submachine guns stored in the security guard room’s locked gun cabinet. No fiend could withstand the hail of bullets from a submachine gun.

Moreover, the organization’s members, even those on the periphery, were never to be underestimated. Each one was carefully selected, trained extensively in a death camp, and even forced to fight among themselves to cultivate willpower and combat effectiveness. Their marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat skills ranked among the elite in the assassin industry.

This time, Pisk had pulled so many of them here, even delaying some less important tasks. It was certainly a case of overqualified personnel, even if...

The peripheral member sneered inwardly.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, sensing something amiss. Although there were many black-clad organization peripheral members hidden in the shadows guarding inside the automobile company, there should also have been some disguised as security guards patrolling openly. Yet, after walking here for so long, he had not seen a single patrolling guard. This was strangely unusual.

As a well-trained peripheral member, caution immediately filled his mind. He took out the walkie-talkie hanging on him, pressing the button to adjust the channel. At that moment, he felt a cold gun barrel pressed against the back of his head.

“I want to ask you some questions. Tell me, do you intend to answer?”

The voice was cold, ruthless, seemingly devoid of emotion.

The peripheral member found it impossible to imagine how the person behind him had entered, how he had silently appeared behind him, and how he managed to press a pistol against the back of his head. His body trembled, his breathing quickened, and his emotions spiraled out of control.

This kind of person was beyond his level; only the leader of the black organization’s action team, known as “Gin,” would have the chance to confront him, he wisely thought.

“Of course, you can ask whatever you want. I will speak freely and without reservation!”

Only then did Nara Hikaru allow him to turn around. Before the peripheral member could react, he saw a black shadow flash by. Suddenly, pain shot through his arm as it was twisted involuntarily, and the pistol hidden beneath the black suit was taken away.

He almost cried out in pain.

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But seeing the man before him wearing sunglasses and dressed in black, the peripheral member swallowed his voice back.

“Y-you’re... that urban legend, the half-human, half-ghost and the best marksman!”

The peripheral member whispered in shock. At that moment, he noticed someone lying on the ground beside Nara Hikaru. It was a comrade who had been patrolling with him.

But this comrade could no longer speak.

Because he was already dead.

Blood flowed from his throat, soaking the floor. It was clear that the attacker had been merciless, taking his life with a single slash, leaving no time to issue a warning cry before death.

The peripheral member’s fleeting urge to resist instantly vanished. His body trembled.

Only now did he fully grasp what the “half-human, half-ghost” in the urban legend really meant.

This black-clad man moved like a ghost—unpredictable, impossible to find or touch, terrifying and utterly despairing. No wonder he was called half-human, half-ghost!

“In this world, good people don’t die, bad people don’t die, only fools die.”

“I believe you’re not a fool. Otherwise, I would have shown you your brain matter and then gone to find other lucky souls to question—”

Nara Hikaru held a dagger in his hand.

The cold blade was now pressed against the black-clad member’s neck.

He asked,

“Tell me, is Pisk still inside this building?”

“How many of you are there? What weapons do you have? How do you patrol?”

Upon hearing these questions, the peripheral member was startled. So this living demon of Mihana Town was hunting down members of the black organization. No wonder Pisk had disregarded some of his assigned tasks to summon so many peripheral members to protect him in the company. At first, it seemed like an overuse of resources, but now it was clear...

A few dozen peripheral members guarding were far from enough!

“W-will telling you save my life?”

“You know the legend. If I reveal this information and you still kill me, I won’t tell you anything... You are a legend of your word, and I trust you won’t break your promise!”

The peripheral member trembled as he spoke.

Nara Hikaru nodded slightly and said,

“If what you say is true, then I won’t kill you.”

“Now, tell me everything you know. It will decide your fate!”

Hearing the black-clad man’s words...

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The peripheral member immediately recounted everything he knew, down to the last detail.

He noticed that when he mentioned a blond young man visiting Pisk today, the black-clad man’s movements seemed to pause, as if he knew exactly who this blond youth was.

And when he mentioned the submachine guns stored in the security guard room’s locked cabinet, the black-clad man finally released the blade and motioned for him to lead the way.

Instantly, the peripheral member felt relief; he knew he had survived for the moment.

Ignoring his broken arms, he hurriedly led the black-clad man to the security room to retrieve the submachine guns. Whether the few comrades guarding the security room would kill the black-clad man or not was no longer his concern.

Once outside the security room, he would shout inside and then dodge the bullets. He didn’t believe this urban legend from Mihana Town could be faster than bullets.

Tap, tap, tap.

Footsteps approached outside the security room.

The black-clad peripheral members on break looked up toward the corridor.

They instinctively reached for their pistols.

At this hour, no normal person would come looking for them in the security room!

If someone was coming, they would have given prior notice via communicator to avoid friendly fire...

They raised their pistols, aiming at the security room’s door.

Then, the door opened.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

A continuous burst of gunfire rang out.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Heavy objects fell to the ground.

Nara Hikaru casually tossed aside the lifeless corpse filled with unfulfilled regrets, stepped into the blood-soaked security room, and fired several shots at the locked cabinet, forcing it open.

Inside, three American-style submachine guns were revealed.

Beep—beep—beep—

The alarm was sounding.

But Nara Hikaru remained calm, methodically checking the submachine guns before grabbing them.

The moment to hunt had arrived.