Jingu Nao took off her convenience store employee uniform, revealing her petite figure; her body’s flexibility was developed to the extreme.

One foot is on the steering wheel, and the toes are used to operate the steering wheel, while the other foot flexibly controls the gear shift lever.

If Shirakawa Natsu were to witness this scene, she would be utterly astonished; it’s not that she wouldn’t marry him.

As she drove, she quickly pulled off the policeman’s uniform and put it on herself. She then took the pistol and bullets from his waist and placed them together with the handgun she had seized from the nameless killer, quickly reloading the magazine.

In the dojo of the Bamboo Union Gang’s action group branch, a middle-aged man wearing a white karate uniform stood.

He had a full beard, his hands hung naturally at his sides, and his body muscles were relaxed. He seemed harmless, yet he possessed the air of a master.

Standing opposite him was another man, his muscles taut, gripping a pistol tightly, the muzzle swaying from side to side, making it impossible to tell where he was aiming. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out without warning, the muzzle spitting fire.

The middle-aged man, who was originally relaxed and with loose muscles, suddenly changed his demeanor, his eyes became sharp, and his body slightly shifted to the side.

“Thud.” Blood splattered everywhere. The middle-aged man clutched his wounded right hand and fell to the ground.

“Master Xuanmu!” The man clutching the gun hurriedly threw it on the ground, ran up to help Xuanmu, and said in a panic, “Are you alright? It’s impossible to see the bullet clearly.”

Master Xuanmu covered his wound with one hand, but his expression remained unchanged. He simply shook his head slightly and said, “This is foresight. A true martial artist must be able to see through the opponent’s actions in advance. If one can only avoid what the eye can see, one is merely a second-rate martial artist.”

Although the young man didn’t understand, he thought it was amazing and quickly asked, “Master Xuanmu, what’s the next step?”

Master Xuanmu glanced at his wound, then at the young man.

The young man suddenly realized: “Master Xuanmu, are you trying to tell me that wounds are proof of spiritual practice?”

“No.” Xuanmu shook his head: “Please call someone to treat my wounds.”

A man in black rushed to the gate of the temple. He hurriedly ran to Xuanmu’s side, bent down slightly, and whispered in his ear, “Master Xuanmu, the gang leader wants you to kill someone.”

A loud bang came from the entrance of the Bamboo Union.

A police car crashed into the wall, sending dust and debris flying everywhere.

“Baka! Who is it!” More than a dozen men in black suits rushed out of the dojo, some holding guns and others holding knives, and surrounded the police car.

The scarred man in the lead gestured to his underling to check. The underling, holding a gun, carefully walked to the police car and opened the door.

Inside was an injured policewoman lying on the steering wheel, and next to her was a naked young man who had fainted.

“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”

“That policewoman is so pretty.”

“Did he get into a car accident while wearing something weird?”

Three thoughts flashed through the gangster’s mind, and the next second, a “whoosh” sound rang out, masked by a silencer.

His thoughts remained frozen at that moment.

The instant his body fell, Jingu Nao reached out to support him, using his body as cover to fire at the men in black outside.

The scarred-face leader wondered why his underling had stuck his head in and then disappeared.

The next second, his henchmen fell down like wheat.

“Shoot!” he shouted in a panic, then covered his head and lay face down on the ground.

“Crack! Crack! Crack!” Gunshots rang out all around.

Scarface waited until the gunfire around him stopped and footsteps approached before cautiously raising his head. Standing in front of him was a beautiful young woman in a police uniform, the dark muzzle of her gun pointed directly at his head.

His henchmen, who had come with him, lay sprawled on the ground, neither struggling nor groaning in pain.

They lost their lives in an instant.

“Do you know Shirakawa Natsu?” Jingu Nao asked softly.

“I…I don’t know him.” Scarface’s voice was panicked; he was afraid that if he said he did, he would be killed in the next second.

“Bang!” A gunshot rang out, and a bullet hole appeared on his forehead.

Jingu Nao quickly discarded the magazine and picked up the spent cartridges from the yakuza corpses on the ground.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind came from behind. Jingu Nao swung her elbow backward to attack, but it was caught by a palm.

The powerful hand seized the opportunity to use a grappling technique, and it looked like it was about to capture her.

Suddenly, Nao Jingu’s right foot emerged from her shoe, her toes deftly gripping a blade, and she attacked backward at an incredible angle.

The person behind her slapped her calf and used the force to jump back half a meter.

Genmu made a karate starting stance with one hand and slowly said, “I only kill two kinds of people: those who are utterly wicked and those who are prepared to die. Which one do you belong to?”

Jingu Nao remained silent; the middle-aged man before her possessed a combat strength far exceeding her own.

So she pulled out another gun from behind her back, holding one in each hand, and compressed the Xuanmu movable space.

Master Xuanmu glanced at the two dark gun barrels, then looked at the wound on his arm, his face showing no fear: “I know the location of the armory.”

Jingu Nao smiled and tucked the two pistols into her waistband.

At the headquarters of the Bamboo Union, Zong Hachiro, dressed in a kimono, sat upright on the tatami mat with his eyes closed.

The young man leaned closer and whispered, “Boss, our branch has been attacked. Master Xuanmu is missing. Should we send an assassination squad to surround and eliminate him?”

“Cancel the operation against her.” Souhachiro slightly opened his eyes, a wicked smile appearing on his lips.

“The gang leader?” The young man’s face was full of doubt.

“She has already proven her worth,” Sohachiro said calmly. “Next, she will come to me on her own, and I will give her what she wants.”

The young man still didn’t understand, but he always felt that the leader was far-sighted, or that this was the kind of mutual appreciation that only people who had reached that level could understand. He often saw these things in comics or movies.

“Such a powerful woman, if she were to marry me, would give birth to outstanding offspring.” After saying this, Soichiro’s head suddenly exploded.

Red and white splattered all over the young man’s face.

All of this happened so suddenly that the admiration on the young people’s faces hadn’t even faded yet.

Jingu Nao put down her sniper rifle at a distance, picked up a briefcase, and walked towards the Bamboo Union headquarters.

Do you know Shirakawa Natsu?

“I don’t know him!”

“Bang.”

The girl walked from the entrance to the main hall, the path behind her stained red with blood. These once arrogant yakuza members lay like dead dogs in pools of blood.

In the main hall, Sohachiro, who had lost half of his head, lay in a pool of blood, with a young man and another boy who looked like a student squatting beside him.

The boy saw Jingu Nao walk in, holding a gun, her eyes filled with resentment as she looked at her.

The young man knelt down in front of Jingu Nao, his voice trembling: “We will grant you whatever you want. Don’t harm family members. He is the gang leader’s younger brother. Please spare this child.”

Jingu Nao lowered the gun she had raised, seemingly unwilling to harm the child: “Where is Shirakawa Natsu?”

The young man was taken aback, and quickly said, “We haven’t had time to catch him yet.”

“You don’t seem to be lying,” Jingu Nao said with a smile.

The boy suddenly stood up, his eyes filled with resentment, and looked at Jingu Nao: “I will remember you forever.”

“Bang!” A gunshot rang out, and the boy was shot between the eyebrows, falling backward to the ground.

“No!” the young man roared in despair, looking at Jingu Nao with disbelief, deep regret, and despair in his eyes: “Why? He’s still a child.”

“I was a child once too.” Nao Jingu’s face showed an innocent smile. “You don’t need to regret it, because I never agreed to let him go in the first place.”

The young man’s expression gradually became blank.

Jingu Nao raised her gun again.

Gunshots, sometimes fierce, sometimes sporadic, rang out continuously within the Bamboo Union’s territory until the massive building fell into a deathly silence.

Jingu Nao walked out of the main entrance, her face now bearing that innocent smile that Shirakawa Natsu was familiar with.

“Oh no, it’s already seven o’clock, I’m going to be late. It’s supposed to be our first date, I have to hurry.”

In the Inagawa Association, in the reception room.

Shirakawa Natsu just wanted to disappear into a crack in the ground. Since Hojo Maki and Inagawa Hanabi had nothing to talk about, she started discussing his work, *The Cthulhu Mythos*.

“Mr. Xia is indeed a young man of great talent.” Hojo Maki said while flipping through the pages, “At such a young age, he has already achieved such outstanding results in the manga industry. He will definitely be a master who will leave his mark on manga history in the future.”

“Hmph.” Shirakawa Natsu chuckled dryly. Hojo Maki was introduced to him and her second daughter when they were both at Tokyo University, and they took care of each other.

But after looking through his works for a while, he never mentioned the topic again.

Shirakawa Natsumi could already imagine that beneath her commercially flattering facade, she had already categorized him as a pervert and irrecyclable trash.

She has the same beauty as Inagawa Hanahi and the figure of Hojo Maki.

Shirakawa Natsu was very curious, but unfortunately, she couldn’t see him anymore.

Hojo Maki didn’t urge her, but quietly drank her tea.

“I have an important appointment tonight,” Shirakawa Natsumi said with a polite smile. “How about I visit you another time?”

Hojo Maki put down her teacup and said softly, “I have a few more questions I’d like to ask Mr. Xia.”

Shirakawa Natsumi’s lips twitched; she was up to something again, just as expected.

At this moment, the middle-aged man squatting to the side suddenly raised his head, pressed his hand on the earpiece, and his expression changed several times.

He stood up, walked to Inagawa Hanahi’s ear, and whispered a few words in her ear.

Even Inagawa Hanahi’s usually calm face showed obvious surprise.

After the middle-aged man finished speaking, he returned to his original seat.

Inagawa Hanahi took out a beautifully wrapped gift box from under the table and pushed it in front of Shirakawa Natsu: “Thank you for your guidance today, Natsu-sensei. This is a small token of my appreciation. Please accept it.”

Shirakawa Natsu looked suspicious, but did not refuse. She reached out and took the rectangular box, saying, “Then I won’t refuse.”

The three then exchanged a few more pleasantries before Shirakawa Natsu took her leave, this time without Inagawa Hanahi trying to stop her.

“Strange.” Shirakawa Natsumi left the Inagawa Association, originally intending to leave in Hojo Maki’s police car.

But at the door, she encountered a familiar figure: Kimura Momo.

“Ms. Zaonv, you’re not worried about me, so you’ve been staying here all this time, are you?” Shirakawa Natsumi walked forward with a smile.