Thinking 12: But This Is…
Thinking Glancing at the wrecked car and at his subordinate wedged between the two vehicles, clinging to life, a shadow of gloom crossed Sagat’s face as well.
After that, all of Sagat’s attention was drawn to Yang.
Feeling that aura—utterly different from that man’s, yet just as blazing—Sagat, who until now had only felt irritation, let a trace of dazed wonder surface in his eyes.
Then he looked at Yang before him and said: “You’re with Interpol too?” “No, but that’s beside the point.” Yang turned his gaze to Sagat.
Though no formal exchange of blows had begun, Yang could sense it—Sagat was strong, exceptionally strong…
Among all the people he had ever met, aside from Gen and Akuma, whom he had encountered three years ago just after crawling out of the ruins, Sagat was the strongest.
As he thought this, Yang felt his own body grow hotter and hotter.
Sensing Yang’s stare, Sagat too, after a brief silence, exhaled a turbid breath in some irritation, then rolled his wrists and said: “We’re all martial artists; you should be able to feel the gap in strength…I have no interest in wasting time on the weak.
Get lost now—I’m giving you a chance to leave.” Hearing Sagat’s words, Chun-Li, standing to one side, clenched her teeth.
Feeling the sharp pain coursing through both her hands, for a moment she did not know how to argue back.
Hailed as the Emperor of Muay Thai, Sagat’s power was beyond question.
Even if a future Chun-Li could one day contend with him, that was the future—and right now, with all her talent yet unrealized, whether for Chun-Li or for Yang, Sagat was a nearly invincible opponent.
At the thought, Chun-Li couldn’t help gritting her teeth.
Should she back down?
“Eh…so it’s over, huh…” Nearby, having heard Sagat’s words and perceived the vast gulf between them, Kure Karura—who had come to pay a visit to a senior of the assassination world—gradually calmed down as well.
Beside her, Kure Fuusui retorted with a face full of resignation: “It being over is the normal outcome, isn’t it?
That Muay Thai fighter’s aura isn’t on the same level as anyone else’s.
If they kept fighting, there’d surely be deaths and injuries.” Hearing her good friend’s words, Kure Karura nodded in understanding.
As an assassin, the most important thing of all was to possess a pair of eyes that could judge the situation on the scene.
Otherwise, if one rashly took on a job that was certain death and died in the course of it, then even though they cherished family, even the Kure clan—who would step in to claim justice when an employer had concealed crucial information—would not raise a fuss on one’s behalf.
Hailed by the clan’s members as ‘Tenma,’ Kure Karura could see that even with one eye already wounded, compared to that tall young man and the female martial artist, Sagat still possessed an overwhelming, dimension-spanning strength.
But just as everyone assumed this was about to end, Yang—his body burning, his fighting spirit surging, yet his eyes growing ever calmer—looked at Sagat and said: “You want…to run?” “…” After a brief silence, Sagat raised his head once more, turning his gaze to Yang, a trace of cold killing intent surfacing on his rugged face.
“…You want to die?” “You haven’t eaten your fill, have you?” Yang asked.
“Hm?” At this, Sagat was momentarily taken aback, not understanding what Yang was talking about.
“I’m a good cook.” Yang paid no mind to Sagat’s reaction, simply speaking on as if to himself: “I’ve seen many diners.
I know the difference between having eaten, having eaten one’s fill, and having eaten well.” “…” At this, Sagat said nothing, only gazing silently at Yang, no expression discernible on his rugged face.
And there seemed to be a peculiar magic in Yang’s voice—though there was no rousing flourish or wording, only calm speech, it effortlessly captured the gaze of nearly everyone present.
Yang took no notice, only continuing: “I’ve seen diners who came in high spirits and left disappointed…just like you.” “…So?” Sagat spoke, a slight tedium in his eyes: “You think you can fill me up?” Sagat…indeed had not eaten his fill.
In the descriptions given by Charudo’s thugs, Go Hibiki had been nothing less than a reclusive powerhouse rare in the heavens and utterly unmatched on earth, who had crushed them all with ease.
But the result?
Just as Yang said—he came in high spirits and left disappointed.
Far from eating his fill, just as he was preparing to leave he had even been caught off guard by this low-grade martial artist and wounded in one eye.
It was like steeling himself to eat junk food that wasn’t even tasty to begin with, only to end up biting into shards of glass that cut his mouth—it left Sagat feeling nauseated and irritated.
Yet even though Yang had voiced his innermost thoughts, Sagat still didn’t pay it much heed.
Because…he was weak.
Perhaps among his peers Yang counted as decent…but, weak.
At that moment, Yang, off to the side, shook his head and said: “No, I’m not trying to fill you up…I want you to finish the meal with me.” “…What do you mean?” Sagat narrowed his eyes; in Yang’s voice he had sensed a hidden madness.
“Five minutes and fourteen seconds.” Yang stretched out his hand, spreading all five fingers, and looked at Sagat: “From Interpol’s Hong Kong Headquarters to here, there are still five minutes and fourteen seconds left.” At this, Sagat’s eyes suddenly contracted, but then they returned to calm as he looked at Yang and said: “I see—so you mean to stall me for these last five minutes and fourteen seconds.” Hearing Sagat’s words, Yang smiled.
“You’re not wrong—stalling you for five minutes and fourteen seconds, that is indeed a fine method.” As he spoke, the smile on Yang’s face gradually widened, no longer composed and calm as before, but brimming with a fervent, blazing madness like a flame.
“But that—is the thinking of a piece of trash.” At this, everyone present was stunned.
Yang took no notice of any of it, only fixing his eyes on Sagat’s.
He knew that once a true battle began, his chances of victory were minuscule.
Indeed—facing an opponent harboring killing intent, even his chances of surviving were minuscule.
Relying on numbers, relying on firearms, relying on the environment to stall—that was the correct, the safe choice.
But for some reason, Yang could clearly feel that within his body an impulse was surging up without cease, pushing his soul and will and reason toward the extreme.
Yang stretched out his hand, spreading all five fingers, a twisted smile—as if charging headlong into destruction—rising upon his handsome face.
“In these five minutes and fourteen seconds, in which you’ll have no choice but to unleash your full strength to finish me—I’m going to blow you apart!!” ____ 👻🔥Here: Walnut-chan🔥👻 🔥 New history: A Martial Arts Master Will Never Be Humiliated We have set new community milestones: