Chapter 225: Quentin Tarantino Hates Me!

Chapter 225: Quentin Tarantino Hates Me! by Pulp-Fiction Harem-Fan

Sitting in my old-fashioned Rolls Royce limousine, Mei and I watch the city go by slowly. Traffic is heavy due to the sea of bicycles, rickshaws, and old school-bus style taxis clogging the streets of Tokyo.

Through my earpiece, Lucy sounds strained and frustrated. Japan has far fewer street cameras, meaning only modern buildings possess any security coverage while the intersections remain completely blind. High-rise buildings block her satellite monitoring, making my backup spotty at best.

[Even with your Fire Birds adding cameras in Tokyo, I have so many blind spots Rick. I really hate doing recon in Japan and China.]

Mei listens in on the transmission, her hand gripping mine tightly as she scans the heavy traffic behind us for any signs of an ambush.

I turn to my lover and rub the back of her hand with my thumb and say to Lucy, "Relax Mrs Shen, your husband will come home safe no matter what."

[Fine, I get it, I am being emotional, sigh. But I feel like I have my hands tied here.]

The limousine suddenly grinds to a halt as a massive crowd blocks the path. Dozens of men and women wearing black suits, sunglasses, black gloves, and black-metal eye-masks instantly surround the vehicle with drawn katanas.

My eyebrows lift at the sudden blockade, and I squeeze Mei's hand one last time before releasing it. "Seems I am being welcomed in Japan, stay in the car and lock the doors."

My left hand grips the decorative black lacquered scabbard of Ryuu Kuroiro as I step out into the humid air. The heavy thud of the limousine doors locking echoes behind me, sealing Mei safely inside. My black yukata flutters in the coastal breeze while my wooden Koma-geta click against the asphalt, sending a creepy, rhythmic clacking sound down the street.

I call out to the crowd fluently in the native language of Japanese, my voice echoing off the surrounding storefronts. "You must be on the Yakuza welcoming committee? I am Rick Tang, and who might be polite enough to warmly welcome me?"

A tall woman, standing nearly eye-to-eye with me, steps forward from the ranks of masked swordsmen. She rests her drawn katana at her side, her cherry lips curling into a cold sneer. "I am one of the main elite of the Yoshida family, and your Fire Birds have been an unwelcome blight here, Eurasian."

The surrounding crowd begins shifting their weight, their hands tightening around their hilts. I almost feel bad for them, especially the cute women among their ranks, but they chose the wrong target.

My left thumb clicks my sword hilt forward, exposing a half-inch of gleaming steel from the black scabbard. My wooden Koma-geta slide across the pavement as I drop into a wide, aggressive stance. I flash them a wide grin. "I have not even been on Japan soil for more than an hour, and yet I must coat the land of the rising sun in crimson. Does Quentin Tarantino hate me?"

The Yakuza raise their blades in unison, their defensive lines tightening as the leading woman narrows her eyes under her metal mask. "Who is this Quentin Tarantino? We do not know him..."

I chuckle at their lack of Earth pop culture knowledge, shifting my weight to keep my balance perfectly centered. "It's from Kill Bill in Japan, you do not know him. Just thought you guys looked like the dead men in that movie. So I am the guest, should you not start?"

The female leader stares intensely at the dark weapon in my hand, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "That sword, where did you get it?"

I smoothly draw the heavy katana from its sheath, completely unbothered by the lack of a quick draw, and level the dark steel directly at her face. "It is my personal sword, Black Dragon, now come and be my virgin slaughter."

The woman gasps slightly at the name of the blade, but a man rushes me from behind before she can speak. My superhuman senses track the displacement of air, allowing me to spin rapidly beneath his horizontal swing and unleash a vicious counterattack that cleaves his left leg off at the knee.

"ARHHHHG!" The man collapses into the street, clutching his stump as dark blood pools on the asphalt.

I flick the crimson stains off my blade with a sharp snap of my wrist and smile at the frozen crowd. "I need to get to my hotel, so if you can all just come at once, it would make this faster, right?"

Seeing their comrade dismantled with such casual precision breeds immediate hesitation among the remaining ranks. I roll my shoulders, letting the heavy weight of my blade settle in my grip. "Anyone holding a sword after I am done talking, dies, so here I come, Sayonara Scumbags!"

Before the majority of them can even process the threat to drop their weapons, I burst forward in a flash of movement. My blade slashes through the air, claiming the heads of four men in rapid succession, including the wounded man on the ground. I slide into a dramatic martial pose, sporting a massive grin. "I always wanted to say that... Now, I see more walking corpses, come to daddy..."

Three Yakuza synchronize their movements and slice down toward me at the exact same time, attempting to trap me in a multi-angled dead zone.

I slam my special geta against the side of the first blade to redirect it, parry the second with a ringing clash of metal, and swat the third away with the reinforced flat of my left hand. A violent surge of Chi erupts through my pathways, accelerating my muscles as I spin in a massive, sweeping arc that cuts all three attackers cleanly in half. Six bloody segments of flesh and bone crash heavily onto the road.

My face transitions into a completely expressionless mask, the cold blue gaze I reserve exclusively for execution. I lock eyes with the trembling female leader and begin a slow, measured walk toward her.

Terrified down to her very soul, the woman lets her katana clatter to the pavement, but I maintain my advance. She freezes like a petrified statue as my left hand clamps around her throat, lifting her entirely off the ground with a single arm.

Both of her hands desperately claw at my wrist in a futile attempt to find air, her feet flailing wildly above the blood-soaked street. Her eyes wide with panic, she searches my face for any sign of mercy. "Tell your Yoshida family that Rick Tang is staying here for two weeks, and if you bother my people or the Kyusho, I will pay a visit to your hole, do you understand me?"

She cannot even squeeze out a reply, her eyelids blinking rapidly as darkness threatens to take her consciousness.

I toss her body ten feet down the road, deliberately restraining my monstrous strength from launching her further. She rolls hard across the concrete, hacking and coughing violently as she sucks air back into her lungs. The dark purple bruises already forming on her delicate neck send a wave of absolute horror through the surviving lookouts.

The remaining Yakuza scramble backward, clearing a wide path as I walk back toward the limousine without sparing them another glance. By the time I open the door, the survivors are fleeing in every direction, abandoning their weapons in their desperate rush to escape the butcher.

Climbing back into the plush leather interior, my heart hammers against my ribs as I realize just how absurd my cultivation rewards are. I had to hold back immensely during that brief scuffle, utilizing barely a quarter of my actual physical output. Cultivation is completely broken.

The limousine pulls away from the curb, blending back into the slow-moving Tokyo traffic. Mei stares at me with a deeply perplexed expression, her brow furrowing as she processes the scale of the violence. "Master, did you go soft? You did not even kill half of them and you let the lady live?"

I lean back against the seat, watching her pop a cherry tootsie pop into her mouth. "Mei dear, when have I ever been a Murder Hobo? I let people live, don't I? Ah, I let Hinata live!"

Mei swats my shoulder playfully, a beautiful grin breaking across her face as she leans closer to me. "You also let Lan live, but yet you are always balls deep in the two, so they don't count."

A sudden, cold realization washes over me, chilling my excitement as the names sink in. I try to look back through the years, but I genuinely cannot remember the exact number of people I have slaughtered since graduating high school. My hands are soaked in an unimaginable amount of blood.

Noticing the sudden shift in my mood, Mei wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace, burying her face into my chest. "Sorry Rick, I was only teasing... All the people you have killed have deserved it. Look at Scott, Greg, and even Alex. You know where to draw the line and are not a mindless and heartless killer. I was wrong and I am sorry."

She pulls back slightly and presses her lips against mine, giving me a passionate, lingering kiss that tastes strongly of artificial cherry. I focus entirely on the desperation and deep regret pouring from her touch. I am not having a psychological breakdown over my body count, I am simply bewildered by how easy it has become to collect enemies.

I suppose I will just have to keep cutting down anyone who stands in my way until my family and I secure our permanent happy ending.

In the meantime, I remain quiet and let Mei stew in her guilt for a little longer, thoroughly enjoying this deeply protective, concerned side of her. I really am a bad guy.

We finally arrive at the Hilton International, where Mei and I claim our keys and head straight for the top floor to access the VIP suites. Sam Sun was forced to check into a standard, budget-line room on the lower levels. I smile to myself at the thought, fully embracing my petty streak.

As we approach the double doors of our suite, my heightened senses pick up the faint, lingering scent of an intruder. I glance down at my tracking app, laughing softly when the interface confirms Ling'er is already lounging inside. I push the door open with a grin. "I hope the room service is good here in the room, already waiting for me, ha-ha."

Ling Ling looks up from the plush velvet couch, waving her smartphone at me to reveal she was tracking my approach on her own screen. "Rick, I already swept the place, and found 3 bugs, and why did you take so long, I was waiting for you. Oh, and hello Mei."

Mei crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing as she glares at the unexpected third wheel in our private living room. "Ling, why are you in our room?"

Ling slides off the couch, gliding across the carpet until she can wrap her arms tightly around my waist. She rests her chin on my chest, smirking playfully at my angry wife. "I cannot sleep alone in a strange place, and I need to be cuddled by Rick at night, don't worry, I will share him with you, Ufufu."

Just as Mei is about to launch into her own petty retort, Ling places a single slender finger over her lips to cut her off. "Mei, I won't hog Rick from your personal honeymoon, but I need him alone for one hour a day, okay? I promise to stay out of your way if you promise."

Mei pauses, running the calculation through her head before deciding the compromise is perfectly acceptable. Her defensive frown instantly vanishes, replaced by a radiant smile as the two women settle back into seamless harmony.

An imaginary drop of sweat rolls down the back of my neck at how effortlessly Ling just played my wife. Ling's true motive is securing our daily dual cultivation session, which can only be performed once in a twenty-four-hour window anyway. The intense process often feels more like exhaustive training than pure indulgence, though I certainly have no complaints about the methodology.

We begin unpacking our luggage into the master suite wardrobes while I recount the details of the Yakuza ambush. The moment Mei slips away into the restroom, I lower my voice and explain to Ling'er the shocking physical feedback I experienced from testing my maximized Body Realm.

She nods slowly, her expression turning analytical as she matches my observations with her own knowledge. "That lines up, because you were not as good at fighting in that past life, and relied on cultivation rather than skill. But now your skills stupid good, so your way is stronger than before. I too have almost reached the peak of Body Realm. Tonight, I should be able to reach it."

The bathroom door clicks open, prompting Ling Ling to immediately pout and slide off my lap just as Mei walks back into the living space. Mei beams with visible victory at the sight of her rival retreating toward the adjacent bedroom to meditate. She sits beside me on the mattress, her playful demeanor shifting into something far more serious. "My job will not occur until three days later, so when are you and Ling going to act? And what are our immediate plans?"

I lean back against the pillows, pulling her closer to my chest as I outline our timeline. "Next Saturday two days before we leave is when the Tokyo building will come down, but I am not yet sure about the details. And when do you meet your contact?"

Mei slides onto my lap, straddling my thighs as she buries her face in the crook of my neck. She presses soft, lingering kisses against my skin, her tongue tracing a warm path up to my jawline. "She is already here in this Hotel, but will not find me today. She and I have to make sure we are not being watched before we meet up. We will be meeting in a karaoke bar when we do, it is secluded and noise proof. I will bring you for back up, okay?"

While outlining her operational strategy, my mischievous wife has already untied the silk sashes of our robes and parted the fabric. She shifts her weight forward and guides me directly inside her, slowly sinking down onto my full length with a soft gasp.

With my blood rushing and her tight warmth enveloping me completely, there is absolutely no universe where I say no to her request. I grip her hips firmly, lifting myself up to meet her movements. "Of course I am cumming, and coming, I love you after-all, now lets have fun my wife..."