Japanese Terrorist: What? I'll fight Hellstar!

"We are a group."

"We will eventually be of one mind."

"Eliminate individual barriers, disputes, and differences."

"Returning to a unified form of life."

"For everyone."

"Don't stop it."

The invisible threads seemed to still tremble slightly, and pairs of pale eyes were focused on Amamiya Rin's face. The eerie, overlapping harmonies carried a strange sense of oppression, stating an undeniable truth.

As Amamiya Rin listened to this speech, the sarcasm on his face deepened. He slammed his cane down hard, making a crisp tapping sound that shattered the suffocating atmosphere of unity.

"For everyone?" He repeated, then smirked, his tone laced with undisguised sarcasm. "Don't give me that crap. In the end, are we going to have a sea of ​​orange juice, everyone holding hands and returning to the LCL ocean? That sounds so high and mighty, but did you even ask the orange juice itself if it's even interested?"

"You can't stop us, we can't hurt each other, but you also can't stop us from increasing our numbers."

Seeing that Amamiya Rin's attitude was firm, Mio Yukiko gave up trying to persuade him with words.

"You're alone, we have twenty-five of us. Will your willpower, fueled by the will to survive, unleash twenty-five times the strength for the sake of others?"

More than twenty faces turned up at the corners of their lips, forming a mocking sneer.

"25 times? Don't overestimate yourself. You bunch of people who have lost their individuality are nothing but a pile of trash even if you band together."

Amamiya Rin slowly straightened his back. Although he was still using a cane, he suddenly exuded a sharp aura, like a blade about to be drawn from its sheath.

A bone-chilling cold spread out, and the twenty-five pairs of white, pupil-less eyes contracted simultaneously. The hair on their skin stood on end, a slight chill ran down their backs, and their bodies involuntarily leaned back, as if a sharp blade was pressed against their throats, ready to slit their throats at any moment.

That is the fruit of twenty-one years of hard work.

Ten days have passed since Yu Gonglin transmigrated.

However, in the nightmare world, he has lived for more than twenty-one years!

He spent twenty-one years of his monotonous life studying hypnosis and kendo.

His swordsmanship is not fancy; it only consists of the basic Nine Forms, Thirteen Swords, and Iaijutsu, which he learned from the swordsmanship club.

But no matter how basic, he had studied in nightmares for twenty years, killing more than 10 zombies, bandits, and enemy soldiers. Even the so-called "human killers" of the island nation would have to admit defeat in front of him.

His swordsmanship may not be able to deal with inhuman monsters, but no one is better at dealing with human beings than him, and his killing intent surpasses that of any swordsmanship master of this era.

Sensing Yu Gonglin's killing intent, the cold smiles on those twenty-odd faces instantly froze.

The women all took a half step back in unison, their white eyes staring at Amamiya Rin.

After a brief silence, Yukiko Mio's lips moved.

"Then give it a try. If you can stop us, if you can kill us, then go ahead and do it."

More than twenty pairs of eyes revealed naked malice, and Yukiko Mitsuki's voice was even more blatantly provocative.

They desperately wanted Amamiya Rin to take action against them. If Amamiya Rin could break free from their mental constraints, then they would also have a chance to retaliate.

Twenty-five of them could easily take down a cripple who walks with a cane.

After saying that, Yukiko Mio, Ayaka Hashimoto, and the others walked towards the nurses' station, while the other women continued to surround Rin Amamiya, forming a human wall with their bodies.

No matter how strong her willpower was, Amamiya Rin's body was still recovering from illness. If a fight really broke out, they felt that sending just one person would be enough.

"Yes, you're right. I can't fight back, and I can't kill you. After all, I'm just a cripple right now. Even if I could take down a few people, I would be too exhausted to continue fighting."

Watching Yukiko Mio's retreating figure, Rin Amamiya, leaning on his cane, stood still, slowly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"However, I also have a sword that can be used to cut."

The whispers that tried to distract him became indistinct.

His breathing was slow, almost stopped.

His heart rate gradually slowed down in his perception.

Amamiya Rin's consciousness sank into pure darkness, like a stone thrown into the deep sea, sinking deeper and deeper until all was silent.

In this absolute silence, only one thing became crystal clear—the knife he had honed for twenty-one years.

With each swing of the blade, slicing through flesh and splitting through bones, the act of killing was honed into an instinct. Those deep fragments of memory surfaced from the depths of his heart, transforming into countless arcs of slash.

The arcs of the slashes intertwined, forging an indestructible longsword deep within Amamiya Rin's consciousness.

Amamiya Rin "looked" ahead.

It's not about using your eyes, but about using this intention.

He "saw" the twenty-five blurry figures, connected by countless thin nerve bundles, like ugly monsters crawling on a spider web.

He imagined a knife.

It is not any weapon that exists in reality, but the purest and sharpest concept of "slash" that has been distilled from twenty-one years of killing.

The virtual weight and the cold touch felt incredibly real through self-suggestion.

He didn't strike any pose; he simply stood quietly, gripping his cane. But within that invisible network, something was stretched to its limit.

Then—he "swung" the sword.

(cut!)

Invisible, shadowless, silent, and lightless, a cold sword mark flowed backward along countless invisible and eerie nerve bundles.

At the same time, all the movements of the twenty-odd women froze.

It's like someone pressed the pause button.

Immediately afterwards—

"Ugh—!"

A distorted, mournful cry escaped from all twenty-five mouths simultaneously.

The crowd suddenly arched their backs, clutching their necks tightly with both hands, their eyeballs almost bulging out of their pale sockets, their faces showing the same horror and pain.

There were no wounds, no bloodstains, but their nerve endings were sending the same signal to their brains: they had been slashed! Their throats had been cut open!

An eerie feeling of suffocation gripped each of them with unmistakable realism; the phantom pain of their tracheas being cut open made it difficult for them to breathe, as if their throats had truly been severed by a blade.

"What did you do?"

A collective gasp filled the corridor as twenty-five pale eyes turned to Amamiya Rin. Mio Yukiko could no longer take a step forward, turning back to look at Amamiya Rin's face with fear in her eyes.

Amamiya Rin's face twisted slightly, and a look of painful ferocity flashed in his eyes.

His brain was connected to the brains of those twenty-five people. When this slash was delivered, not only those twenty-five people felt the pain, but he, the twenty-sixth person, would also feel the pain of being slashed.