Over the next few days, West City’s underground world was thrown into complete chaos.
A martial artist whom gangsters called the “Orange Demon” began frantically sweeping through the strongholds of major criminal syndicates.
Whether it was street-roaming biker gangs or drug lords entrenched in abandoned factories, as long as he ran into them, their only fate was being kneaded into scrap metal along with their guns.
Not only that, citizens also discovered that this decisive and ruthless “vigilante” had an extremely bizarre style during the day.
At a certain intersection.
“Old timer, please take it slow.”
Yamcha supported a limping elderly person as they crossed the crosswalk.
[Temporary Quest: Helpful.]
[Quest Requirement: Help an elderly person cross the road ten times without faking it.]
[Quest Reward: hoi-poi capsule sports car × 1.]
At a certain park.
With a gentle leap, Yamcha plucked a frightened little orange cat from a tree branch over a dozen meters high and handed it to a tearful little girl.
[Temporary Quest: Helpful.]
[Quest Requirement: Help children solve their problems without faking it.]
[Quest Reward: Senzu Bean × 1.]
Looking at the greenish bean in his palm, Yamcha happily put it into the cloth bag at his waist.
After grinding for the past few days, he had raised West City’s public security level by several notches.
Counting the gift from the Cat Immortal last time, he had accumulated a total of six senzu beans, a limited-edition hovering sports car, and a hovering solar motorcycle.
Even mosquito legs add up over time, and this was a considerable fortune.
“Only one more time left.”
Yamcha glanced at his panel; his quest progress for Bane of Gangsters was 9/10, lacking just one lucky thug.
Who could it be!
He cast his gaze toward the large abandoned dock in the northern suburbs of West City.
Fine, it’s decided to be you!
The largest and best-equipped armed smuggling syndicate currently entrenched in West City.
The Viper Gang!
Late at night, northern suburb dock.
Huge shipping containers piled up like mountains, and searchlights swept back and forth across the night sky.
Inside an office converted from a shipping container, the gang boss “Viper” sat on a genuine leather sofa, toying with a revolver.
He was bald, with a scar running across the bridge of his nose, and his gaze was sinister.
“Boss, that guy wearing a martial arts uniform has been too bizarre lately; several bosses in the East District were all wiped out by him alone.”
A subordinate reported tremblingly.
“What is there to panic about.”
Viper sneered and slapped the revolver onto the table.
“No matter how powerful a martial artist is, they just have a bit more strength, what is there to fear!”
“Right on time, we just received a batch of heavy firepower from the black market. If he dares to come, I’ll let him taste what it feels like to be riddled with bullets like a sieve.”
“Is that so? You bald guy, you talk quite interestingly.”
Yamcha’s voice rang out inside the office.
“Viper’s” pupils shrank sharply.
He abruptly pulled out the revolver on the table and looked around in alert.
Unknowingly, a large hole had been silently melted open in the iron door of the container.
Yamcha walked in slowly with his hands tucked into his martial arts uniform belt.
Dozens of elite guards outside the door instantly poured in.
Countless large-caliber submachine guns were raised simultaneously, their black tongues of fire intertwining as an airtight giant net of bullets completely enveloped Yamcha.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Bullets struck the ground, sending up large sparks, crashed against the iron walls of the container, and bounced away.
Dust and gunpowder smoke filled the entire space instantly.
Nothing could be seen anymore.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!”
Viper waved his hand to signal, and the gunfire stopped abruptly.
Gunpowder smoke filled the air.
White smoke mixed with dust rolled in the beam of the searchlight, and the smell of gunpowder choked several subordinates into continuous coughing.
A henchman fanned away the smoke in front of him and yelled excitedly, “Boss! That brat is definitely done for!”
“Exactly! With so many guns greeting him together, even that dead Demon King Piccolo would have to die one more time!”
Another bald thug patted his gun stock, smiling so widely his mouth couldn’t close.
“No matter what Devil King it is, when they encounter our Boss Viper, they have to kneel! Hhahahaha!”
Everyone burst into loud laughter, their tense nerves relaxing instantly.
Someone even started whistling, and a few daring ones were already high-fiving each other to celebrate.
Viper leaned back on the sofa, slapped the revolver onto the table, bit down on a cigar, and lit it leisurely.
“Yoshi, what did I say.”
Viper exhaled a smoke ring.
“What use is having great strength? In front of bullets, everyone is made of flesh and blood.”
He raised his chin, signaling his subordinates to step forward and check.
Two thugs held their guns and crept slowly into the smoke.
One step, two steps, the pace of gangsters.
The smoke began to clear.
The searchlight’s beam penetrated the gradually thinning gunpowder smoke, illuminating the crater-strewn floor.
Bullet holes.
Bullet holes everywhere.
Except there was no blood.
No corpses.
The thug walking in front stopped his footsteps, his gun barrel trembling slightly.
“Where… where are the people?”
The smiles on everyone’s faces vanished simultaneously.
“Impossible.”
Viper stood up abruptly, his cigar dropping from the corner of his mouth.
“Dozens of guns, at such close range…”
“You guys fought quite seriously.”
The voice came from behind.
Viper turned his head.
Yamcha was leaning against the container iron sheet behind him with his arms crossed.
There wasn’t even a single bullet hole on his martial arts uniform, and he hadn’t even gotten much dust on it.
“H-How…”
Viper’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, his pupils contracting violently.
What is wrong with this person?
However, ordinary people of the dragon ball world would not understand.
The moment the firing started, Yamcha had already passed through the barrage.
His speed was so fast that everyone’s visual nerves didn’t have time to catch it.
By the time the smoke rose, he had already circled behind everyone.
Furthermore, this also contained the eternal ironclad rule of the dragon ball world.
Where there is smoke, there is no injury.
“Fire! Shoot quickly!”
Viper shrieked hysterically.
The closest thug reacted the fastest, turning around and raising his gun.
Yamcha didn’t move.
He merely glanced at that person.
An invisible Qi spread outward from his body surface, but Yamcha controlled the intensity of this Qi very low.
After all, if he released a Power Level of 3288 in an instant, for ordinary people, it would be no different from facing an avalanche head-on.
The legs of the five thugs in the front row went soft, and they directly knelt down.
The people in the second row were slightly better off, but their hands trembled so much they couldn’t pull the trigger at all, and two rolled their eyes and collapsed unconscious to the ground.
Viper’s condition was the most miserable.
He was less than two meters away from Yamcha, bearing the greatest pressure.
His knees slammed into the floor, his entire body prostrated downward, his forehead pressed against the ground as sweat poured down.
Yamcha reined in his Aura and crushed out the still-smoking cigar.
Viper lay prostrate on the floor, cold sweat soaking his shirt.
Yamcha squatted down, picked up a few shipping bills scattered on the floor, and flipped through them casually.
Arms, contraband drugs, human trafficking.
Behind every single bill were several or even dozens of human lives.
“I originally planned to pack you all up and send you to the police.”
Yamcha threw the bills in front of Viper.
“But now, I’ve changed my mind.”
Viper yelled hoarsely, “Y-You can’t kill me! This is West City, if you kill me, the police will—”
“What will they do?”
“Huh?”
Yamcha stood up and looked down at him.
“When you smuggled arms and sold them to terrorists, did you ever think about what would happen to those dead civilians?”
Viper’s mouth opened and closed, unable to speak.
Yamcha looked at him no longer.
He raised his right hand with his palm facing downward, and a fist-sized white Qi blast condensed.
This Qi blast was controlled by Yamcha within a certain range, enough to send everyone in this shipping container away without affecting the dock.
The precise control over Qi brought by seven months of training in the Gravity Chamber was vividly demonstrated at this moment.
“Wait! I have money! Whatever amount you want…”
A flash of white light instantly swallowed the entire interior space of the container.
Afterward, Yamcha turned around and walked out of the container as the night breeze brushed against his face.
[Temporary Quest: Bane of Gangsters.]
[Quest Progress: Completed.]
[Reward Issued: Power Level + 100.]
[Power Level: 3388]