Chapter 163: The Trip to the Imperial Fist Temple
Under the cover of night, Akame arrived in the Capital once again. She easily found her way to the hotel and knocked on the door.
Creak.
The door opened, and Kurome saw the figure outside, her face lighting up with surprise. "Sister?"
"Kurome!" Akame's expression softened instantly.
Entering the room and closing the door, she glanced around. "Where's Aoki?"
Kurome didn't answer immediately but asked, "Sister, did Night Raid agree to Aoki's deal?"
Akame nodded. "Yes, and our Boss wants to invite you and Aoki to the base."
"Great! I also want to see where you live, Sister." Kurome's expression brightened; she had completely put aside the old grudges between the Empire and the Revolutionary Army.
"Aoki went out; he might not be back for a while," Kurome added.
"Went out?" Akame suddenly realized something, her expression changing slightly. "Could it be that he went to the Palace again...?"
Kurome shook her head. "No, no, Aoki didn't go to the Imperial Palace this time. He went to the Imperial Fist Temple today."
"The Imperial Fist Temple? What is he doing there?" Akame blinked in confusion. The Temple wasn't much safer than the Palace; while the Palace had ordinary guards, the Temple was filled with martial arts masters.
Kurome said sincerely, "This concerns Aoki's secret, I can't tell even you, Sister."
Akame remained thoughtful but said nothing more.
Under the night sky, Aoki slightly flapped his bat wings, hovering in the air as he looked down at the massive complex of buildings below.
The Imperial Fist Temple.
Though called a temple, it was actually a luxurious palace. While not as grand as the Imperial Palace, it was one of the most prestigious sites in the Capital, a testament to their wealth and power.
"Well then, let's begin!" Aoki's figure vanished instantly.
Inside the grand hall, rows of statues stood on each side. A middle-aged man with a square face stood with his hands behind his back, his expression dignified. Eight people knelt before him—six men and two women. Their auras were incredibly powerful.
"You eight are the most outstanding students of this generation!" the dignified man spoke slowly. "You should have all heard that the Four Demon Rakshasa are dead, killed by one person in a very short time! This is a great disgrace! It has brought shame upon the entire Imperial Fist Temple! Even the Minister has sent people to express his disappointment!"
The eight students knelt, listening silently.
After a pause, the Master continued, "As the elite of this generation, you will take over the roles of the Rakshasa Four and serve under the Minister's direct command! Furthermore, you bear the responsibility of washing away this shame. Can you do it?"
The man on the far left raised his head, revealing a wicked face. "Please rest assured, Master, we are not those useless Rakshasa! They thought that by consuming some Danger Beasts and gaining a little control over their bodies, they could act with impunity. They forgot that fist techniques are the true foundation. We will make the world remember the strength of the Imperial Fist Temple!"
"Hehehe, I've been looking forward to this for a long time!" The woman beside him grinned, revealing sharp, shark-like teeth.
The others also looked eager. Following the Minister was the ultimate goal; it meant money, power, and fame. They had always felt superior to the Rakshasa Four, believing they only had the Minister's favor because they got there first.
"Perhaps we should thank that assassin!" the wicked-looking man sneered. "When the time comes, I'll just twist his head off quickly so he suffers less."
The Master nodded. "If you encounter that assassin, you must kill him for me!"
"Yes!" the eight responded in unison. They were confident because, unlike the Rakshasa, they were masters of combined formation attacks.
After a long silence with no further response from their Master, the eight looked up in confusion. Their expressions turned to horror. Their Master's eyes had rolled back, his forehead pierced by a strange, whip-like appendage.
They retreated instantly, staring at the person standing over the corpse.
"Ryan? Is that you?" one gasped.
"I'm not Ryan," Aoki replied. He grabbed the Master's body and tossed it into his alternate dimension. Then, he transformed, his skin turning pale and his eyes becoming cat-like and crimson. He swept his gaze over the eight students.
"Weren't you just discussing me?"
"It's you!" They recognized him instantly from the portraits.
"Perfect!" The wicked-looking man grinned aggressively. "Let's use your corpse as a greeting gift for the Minister!"
Aoki sighed. "You certainly have a big dream."
The students didn't back down. Their mentor was dead, and killing this assassin was now their only way to secure the Minister's favor.
"Formation!" the leader shouted. The eight began to circle Aoki rapidly.
"An array?" Aoki glanced at them. Eight whips suddenly extended from behind him like a spider's legs.
Crack!
The eight men were sent flying before they could even finish their movement. Each bore a horrific wound on their chest or face, nearly cleaving them in two.
Aoki looked at them, shaking his head. "Is this your 'array'? To be honest, your strength is far below the Rakshasa Four."
Even though he had killed both groups instantly, the Rakshasa at least required a surprise attack. These students were simply outclassed.
The eight coughed up blood, paralyzed by shock and injury. Aoki didn't let them suffer long. With a flick of his whips, he pierced their foreheads—not to kill, but to inject a trickle of blood to keep them alive for now.
One by one, he tossed them into the alternate dimension.
"That's enough. Time to go back," Aoki muttered. Today's harvest—nine powerful martial artist bodies—was a considerable surprise.
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