Super Fighting Tokyo.

Hearing Bai Mucheng's words, the people on the high platform were speechless.

They can't understand?

No, the truth is quite the opposite.

Underground gambling is a dark side of society; it cannot be brought into the open or made public.

The same applies to "underground fighting".

Although the existence of Tokugawa shogun, the Kengan Association, and numerous underground fighting groups made underground fighting not so "dark".

However, there is no doubt that once this kind of unregulated fighting becomes widespread, its negative impact on teenagers will be immeasurable!

Not everyone can reach the heights of that "strongest father and son on earth," not even masters like Guji Doppo and Shibukawa Goki.

However, four hundred years ago, in the era of Miyamoto Musashi, such a thing was, in a sense, "upright and honorable".

The difference in perspectives is obvious!

"..."

After a brief silence, suddenly—

Swish!

Another figure emerged from one side of the container.

He was an ideal assassin, a foreigner, dressed in camouflage, with an aura like a raging fire, clearly stronger than the patrolling mercenaries.

He lifted his jacket, revealing a revolver on his right hip, the holster already open, ready to draw.

"Oh……"

Musashi raised the corner of his mouth and looked at the gunman five steps away.

The gunman was also observing Musashi.

"Even if you wanted to vent your anger, how could you two be lunatics who barged into our headquarters like that..."

"There are no fewer than two hundred fully armed experts in this area. Even if you line up and let them chop you up, you'd be exhausted, wouldn't you?"

The gunman sighed softly.

"Mr. Musashi Miyamoto, you seem to be revered as a 'strategist.' If that's the case, you should consider what level you intend to reach."

"..."

Musashi smiled with interest as he listened to the gunman's words.

"Didn't I already say that..."

"Someone provoked me, so I came."

Musashi slapped his lower back, his face suddenly contorting into a ferocious expression, and roared, "If you want to make a name for yourself with my name, Miyamoto Musashi, then bring it on!"

Its sound was like thunder.

Even from a great distance, the people on the high platform were so shocked that their ears were ringing.

As the shout subsided, everyone saw that the gunman had already drawn his revolver and was aiming at Miyamoto Musashi, who was five steps away.

"The strongest swordsman in history - Miyamoto Musashi".

"In the end, it's nothing more than an old relic from four hundred years ago."

The gunman remained calm and said coldly, "I've heard that in a sword duel, one can read the signals in the opponent's brain and strike before the opponent does."

“But you don’t seem to understand the principles of a revolver. ‘Drawing a gun’ is not the same as ‘drawing a knife’; it’s ‘the next step after drawing a knife’.”

In other words, my 'knife' is already at your neck!

The gunman kept the muzzle still, changed from holding the gun with one hand to a more secure two-handed grip, and aimed at Musashi's left chest and heart.

"Fine, whether it's you or Shiraki Cheng, I'll shoot if you make a single move."

"Are you prepared to surrender, or will I shoot one of you first?"

"..."

Musashi frankly replied, "There is also the 'option' of me drawing my sword and killing you."

The gunman sighed, "Mr. Miyamoto, don't think that 'modern weapons' don't require training. There are people who are skilled in this..."

"What nonsense. Of course I can see that. After all, the Shiraki family also has skilled gunners."

Musashi widened his tiger-like eyes. "So this is a duel. If you can see my movements clearly, then go ahead and shoot!"

"I'm going to pull it out."

After saying that, Musashi quietly began to count.

"One, two."

"three……"

*Snap*

After a soft bang, Miyamoto Musashi, in the gunman's eyes, suddenly "disappeared".

It wasn't dodging, nor was it retreating; it simply vanished instantly, leaving no trace and without making a sound!

"?!..."

An extreme sense of horror erupted from the gunman's heart.

It's going to get chopped up...

After the thought crossed his mind, the gunman's finger twitched involuntarily, and he pulled the trigger, firing the bullet with a "bang".

But this was all in vain.

The moment the gunman regained his senses and, overcome with fear, tried to flee—

Whoosh!

A sharp, cold light descended from above his head, slicing down from his forehead, severing his fingers, cutting through the revolver, and finally cleaving out from his groin.

Splash...

The nameless, heavy blade was suddenly swung out and formed a huge, crescent-shaped moon!

The glint of the blade was absolutely beautiful.

Under the beautiful flash of the sword, Musashi stepped forward and swung his sword. His face was like a prajna, and he looked like a demon. It was a magnificent ukiyo-e painting!

Ding……

The revolver was split in two, one on the left and one on the right, breaking apart and scattering on the ground, with a few fingers lying around it.

Then, the gunman's body gradually cracked open from the "center".

"Truly worthy of being..."

Before he could finish his exclamation, it completely split open, breaking into two halves that crashed to the ground and sprayed out large patches of bright red blood.

Swish!

Musashi swung his arm and swung his sword, shaking off the few remaining bloodstains on the blade. Then, with a "click," he sheathed the sword.

"..."

Inside the huge warehouse, there was no sound at all; even the sound of breathing had inexplicably disappeared.

Only one thing is certain—

Miyamoto Musashi drew his sword!

……

……

Meanwhile, on the other side...

On the highway where Shiraki Shō and Miyamoto Musashi got off earlier.

There, several police vans were already parked, and dozens of fully armed police officers were on standby, some even equipped with riot shields.

Upon closer inspection, some of the officers belonged to the Secret Burial Bureau, while others had black eyes with white pupils, indicating they were from the Wu clan.

Meanwhile, several private luxury cars were also mixed in.

Familiar figures stepped out of the car—

Tokugawa Mitsunari, Wu Huili, Wu Fengshui, and Makoto.

"..."

As Tokugawa gazed into the distance, he could vaguely see the lights of a factory above a large forest, and he couldn't help but feel nervous.

The old man swallowed hard. "Wow! Shiraki and Musashi, those two really just barged in..."

Wu Huili sighed helplessly, "Are there any other possibilities?"

Meanwhile, the head of the secret burial section, Manabu Takumi, couldn't help but frown, "What happened here must not be known to the outside world."

"Shiraki-sensei..."

Wu Fengshui couldn't help but worry.

But more than the personal safety of the two men, Wu Fengshui was worried about where the "situation" of this battle would go.

The girl, who came from the Wu clan, could vaguely sense that the situation was on the verge of getting out of control!

Wu Huili was well aware of this, "After all, it's Miyamoto Musashi..."

He narrowed his black-and-white eyes and murmured softly:

"There will be rivers of blood...no, more than that..."

"The corpses will pile up like mountains..."

……

……

At the same time—