Manhunt
1170 Words
The moment Qin Ming saw the figure in black, he knew exactly who it was. Without hesitation, he pulled out a syringe and injected it into his arm, then called out, “Be careful. His blade is poisoned.”
Celestian nodded once, said nothing. He tossed a small porcelain bottle to Qin Ming, then stepped forward, eyes locking onto Yashida Jiro standing near the burning car.
Strangely enough, the vehicle had been on fire for a while now—and still hadn’t exploded. That alone was unusual.
Jiro reached into the car and retrieved the silver case stamped with the Stark Industries logo. Without another glance, he turned and walked away alone. Qin Ming had already moved aside, leaving the path clear.
Of course, Celestian had no intention of letting him go.
Forget the fact that Jiro had wounded his brother—Celestian was also deeply interested in that case. Bullseye was not someone he could afford to provoke, but Yashida Jiro? That was a different story.
The instant Jiro started moving, Celestian was already in pursuit.
After swallowing the antidote Celestian had given him, Qin Ming felt noticeably better. Seeing Zhang Xiaotian still in a dangerous fight, he didn’t hesitate. He charged back in.
Qin Ming’s skills had been taught by Zhang Xiaotian himself. The moment he joined the fight, the two positioned back-to-back, working in perfect coordination against Elektra. They couldn’t overpower her yet, but they stabilized the situation. With Qin Ming reinforcing him, Zhang Xiaotian finally found room to counterattack.
What was strange was that Bullseye remained in the shadows the entire time—watching, but never intervening.
Celestian stayed on Yashida Jiro’s trail. Jiro was fast—his movement erratic, constantly shifting—but Celestian kept close. He wasn’t catching him, but that was partly intentional. Celestian had no desire to reveal his full strength in front of too many eyes.
Only after confirming Bullseye could no longer sense them did Celestian finally accelerate.
Steel sang as his sword cut through the air, arcing straight for Jiro’s neck.
Jiro felt the killing intent behind him and reacted instantly—ducking low and rolling forward. He avoided the blade, but his escape was cut off. Rising smoothly, dressed in white, he stared at the monkey-masked man blocking his path and narrowed his eyes.
“Who are you?” Jiro asked—in fluent Chinese.
That caught Celestian slightly off guard. Then again, given appearances, it made sense. Celestian sneered softly and answered with action instead of words.
Time was limited. Bullseye might notice again at any moment. Celestian opened with full force.
A gale-force sword style exploded outward, swallowing Jiro whole. Wind and Thunder from Flat Ground—the sword tip snapped forward, piercing straight toward Jiro’s throat.
The blade punched through.
But the resistance felt wrong.
Just like what Qin Ming had encountered earlier.
In one smooth motion, Celestian swept his blade wide—Autumn Wind Scouring Leaves—and a sharp clang rang out as a katana appeared behind his neck, blocked cleanly by Celestian’s steel sword.
That trick had already been used once.
It wouldn’t work again.
Celestian slid forward, repeated Wind and Thunder, and stabbed again—clean through Jiro’s throat.
Another substitute.
Celestian raised an eyebrow. Not bad. This kid’s ninjutsu is solid.
Before he could reset, kunai rained down from every direction like a sudden storm. Celestian spun into Battle in All Directions at Night, his blade forming a flawless steel barrier. Nothing got through.
Qin Ming was a fighter.
Celestian was a Daoist.
In this kind of enemy-hidden, self-exposed scenario, even an ordinary soldier would have options.
A soft pop echoed.
A brief flash of light flared in the darkness—gone in an instant—but it was enough.
Celestian saw him.
This time, Yashida Jiro wasn’t in white.
He was dressed head-to-toe in black.
So that’s it.
Celestian understood immediately. Black and white clothing, exploiting contrast—especially effective at night—combined with substitution techniques. No wonder he was so hard to pin down.
The moment Jiro realized he’d been exposed, he retreated explosively into the darkness.
Too late.
Celestian had already locked onto him.
One step. Then another.
He surged forward again.
Celestian’s movement technique was nothing like Qin Ming’s. Swift Wind Steps carried him in a blur, closing the distance in an instant. Once more, Wind and Thunder—this time aimed straight at Jiro’s chest, forcing a head-on clash.
Clang.
Steel met steel for the first time.
The moment their weapons connected, the difference was clear. Jiro staggered back several steps just to keep his footing. Celestian barely paused before pressing the attack again.
Of the three enemies he’d faced tonight, Jiro’s techniques were the trickiest—but Celestian’s footwork, heightened senses, and control completely countered him.
Elektra? Celestian judged he could fight her to a draw—at worst.
In a true life-and-death fight, she wouldn’t survive.
Bullseye, however—that man was another matter entirely.
The man who would later be “killed” by Elektra, only to return from the dead. Against him, Celestian could only defend briefly before retreating.
Celestian knew his limits.
That was why he chose Jiro.
As for why Bullseye still hadn’t acted—Celestian had a theory. Bullseye likely had no intention of getting dragged into a Chinese–Japanese gang war. His position at Kingpin’s side meant he understood far more than Elektra did.
Both sides were dangerous.
Killing low-level muscle was one thing. Killing someone like Zhang Xiaotian? That would bring the Hongmen’s full wrath down. Even Kingpin would find that troublesome.
Kingpin’s main operations were on the East Coast, but his West Coast smuggling lines were significant. A full-on war with the Chinese syndicates would be disastrous—especially for someone who wanted to rule the entire American underworld.
Yashida Jiro wasn’t the type to wait for death, either. If he were, he wouldn’t have played the fool for more than a decade—unlike his father’s other illegitimate sons, most of whom had already been eliminated by his elder brother.
Facing Celestian’s relentless pursuit, Jiro sneered and retreated once more into darkness.
Celestian followed without pause.
Two seconds.
Three.
He caught up again.
But this time, standing before him was a Yashida Jiro dressed entirely in white again.
The bastard had changed outfits in the blink of an eye.
During a fight? Really?
Doesn’t matter.
Same move. Every time.
Wind and Thunder.
The sword stabbed straight toward Jiro’s heart—fast enough to blur.
This time, Jiro didn’t try to block.
At the instant the blade pierced his chest, Jiro smiled—mocking, satisfied—and dissolved into smoke before Celestian’s eyes.
Celestian immediately brought his sword up, guarding front and back, bracing for an ambush.
Then—
Four figures appeared at once.
Front. Back. Left. Right.
Four Yashida Jiros, all dressed in white, blades gleaming coldly in the firelight.
And this time—
None of them were hiding.
- Writer
