From Bullets To Billions

Chapter 731: The Trickster

All of the Rangers were facing the members of the Black Hand at the exact same time, each of them having their own struggles with whoever they were going up against.

Commander Blark stood off to the side, impatiently tapping his foot against the wooden decking.

"What’s wrong?" Talia asked, watching him closely. "It looks like you’re getting nervous. Is it because your well-trained group isn’t exactly dominating like you expected?"

When Talia had heard that these attackers were from the same background as Aaron, she had started to gain a bit of confidence. Seeing the Rangers’ skills for herself, she knew that Max cared about them and was pulling out all the stops to make sure they were rescued.

"Hey, can you really talk so confidently when you’re not the one putting your life on the line?" Blark scoffed, turning to glare at her. "And have you ever even thought about why we took hostages in the first place and allowed them to fight?

"There’s a good reason why that Max guy isn’t here right now. You see, if I were you guys, I would be betting on my people to win. Otherwise, I’m going to have to get personally rough with all of you, and I already know who I’m going to choose first."

The students decided to stay quiet for now, but it left them deeply conflicted. Was Blark right? If the Rangers won their fights, would that just trigger Blark to execute the hostages?

Meanwhile, Wolf was locked in a duel against the youngest member of the Black Hand, who looked as calm as ever. The young agent suddenly jumped forward, throwing out a sharp straight kick toward Wolf’s stomach.

Wolf managed to lean back just in time, slipping the strike. He knocked the foot away with his hand and immediately tried to close the distance. But as he charged in, the young assassin used the momentum of Wolf slapping his leg aside to spin his body mid-air, delivering a sweeping wheel kick with the back of his heel.

Almost as if Wolf had predicted the counter, he ducked right under the high heel. He drove a heavy fist straight into the young man’s chest, lifting him off his feet and slamming him onto the ground. The agent instantly kicked his legs out the second he hit the floorboards, popping right back up onto his feet.

"Are you not going to take your hands out of your pockets? It’s a bit rude, you know," Wolf said, adjusting his stance. "I gather that you might be more skilled than me, and you clearly have the confidence. But the more skilled fighter doesn’t always win—especially if they’re underestimating their opponent."

Wolf tapped the side of his head with a grin. The reason he was able to avoid that second kick in the first place wasn’t because he saw it coming, but because he had predicted the sequence beforehand.

The main issue with all these individual fights going on is that one of us needs to get to the Commander one way or another, Wolf calculated mentally. One of us either has to completely dominate and win our match with next to no injuries, or create an opening to go straight for him.

There was, of course, a massive risk with that strategy: just how strong was the Commander himself? He might not be as acrobatic as the Black Hand agents he commanded, but he still had to be formidable. Trying to attack him while simultaneously fighting off another Black Hand operative was suicide.

So the absolute best play was to win this fight quickly and without taking damage—a requirement that made Wolf’s job vastly harder. But if anyone in the group could achieve that level of precision, he believed it was him.

It meant his fight against the young agent would take longer, but it was a burden he had to take upon himself. For one, he knew Aaron was currently occupied with the most difficult opponent on the field, and as for the other Rangers, he wasn’t sure if they had planned that far ahead.

When Wolf charged in again to press his advantage, he finally saw the young man’s hands snap out of his pockets. In an instant, three small objects came flying straight at his face.

Coins... what the hell is this? Wolf thought, raising one arm to block the projectile trajectory.

He could see it coming: based on the positioning of the young agent’s feet, he was baiting a follow-up kick toward the stomach. Wolf’s fighting style was fluid and free-flowing, so he bent his torso inward to slip the incoming kick, positioning himself to attack from any angle.

As he tracked the footwork, he saw another kick whipping around toward the side of his head. His Vow his special ability made him track every movement, to the point where he sometimes knew what the other person was thinking of doing before them, and in turn he was also able to process his own thoughts and movements.

The power from the vow had always suited Wolf well, because it went with his natural fighting style in the first place.

I’ll block this strike, charge forward, and land a massive hit right on his face, Wolf planned. Part of taking the least damage is ending the fight the second an opening appears!

Wolf raised his guard to absorb the hit, confident he could tank the impact—until the tip of the agent’s shoe dug deep into his side. A sharp, stinging agony sliced through his ribs. Wolf yanked his arm back as a spray of blood splattered onto the floorboards.

Stepping back to re-establish distance, Wolf looked down at his bleeding side, then up at the smirk spreading across the young man’s face.

"There’s a blade hidden in your shoe?" Wolf asked, gritting his teeth.

Watching from the sidelines, Blark let out a dark laugh. The agent Wolf was fighting wasn’t just another assassin—among the Black Hand, he was known as the Trickster.

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