I’M Really Helpless In Tokyo

"I like to paint these disgusting broken paintings so much... Go to hell and paint slowly!"

No longer giving this weird man any chance, Mochizuki turned into an afterimage, flashed behind the man, and his dark right arm penetrated from the opponent's back to his chest.

"Disgusting?! It seems that you, like those vulgar people, don't know how to appreciate real art..."

No matter Mochizuki's arm passed through his body, the man's head turned around 180 degrees strangely, six big eyes that split like chrysanthemums, staring at him nervously at close range.

"...Only by using bones as pen, human skin as paper, and blood as ink, can you draw works that shock the soul!"

"How could... be able to fool a hundred-eye pseudo-pupil, this is not a blinding method, can this guy distort the space here?"

Facing the terrifying man in front of him with eight eyes at close range, Mochizuki was surprised to find out...

There was no real feeling in the punch just now, as if it hit the middle moon in the mirror, and even the kimono on the opponent's body did not raise a trace of folds.

"Well, how can ordinary people know how to appreciate, what is a Ukiyo-e with a soul!"

As if he was not in the same space as Mochizuki Che, the man turned his head back and his movements were not at all stagnated by the arms that passed through his chest.

His body, which had not been turned from beginning to end, held a bone pen firmly in the gray stone bowl on the desk, grinding the "ink" in it.

Mochizuki had a flower in front of him, and found himself appearing on the other corner of the platform like a teleport.

"My fellow Tokugawa Yoshinobu is not talented, please appreciate my proud young work, "Qui Ti Bai Zian Xiang"!"

As soon as the voice fell, several unusually gorgeous, unpainted screens rose from the smooth platform under his feet, and the cage generally trapped him in them.

"... After verifying these paintings, you will surely feel the greatness of art, just like those people, willingly join my works."

After doing all this, the man who claimed to be "Tokugawa Yoshino" no longer paid attention to Mochizuki, and slowly sat back in front of the drawing plan, and again began to draw ideas on the blank drawing paper.

"boom!"

The screens that suddenly appeared up, down, left and right were completely sealed like a coffin, and Mochizuki slammed one of the screens fiercely.

However, a thin layer of grayish aura on the screen surged, and it received his heavy punch intact.

"Tsk, the power of ghosts and gods?"

At the same time, on the inside of hundreds of unpainted screens, countless men dressed as samurai in armor and swords have crawled out of the paintings viciously, forming an encirclement in an orderly manner.

"It seems that some high-end goods were sent out?"

Surrounded by the men dressed as these samurai in a small space, Mochizuki Che also showed a cautious expression.

It is different from the ghosts that are vulnerable to his fist all the way down.

The samurai who walked out of these paintings had sharp eyes and a calm spirit.

Just put his hand on the hilt of the sword, it gave people a sharp aura of shaving and pain.

Mochizuki had never felt the murderous aura that was tempered in the sea of ​​blood in the corpse mountain before in those kendo master Fans in Tokyo.

"Zheng."

Without any words, only a few streams of light flashed by, attacking him everywhere.

The warriors in the front row had already drawn their swords silently.

Jingxin Mingzhi Liu, Xin Yin Liu, Shinto Non-Mind Flow, Straight Heart Shadow Flow, Mind Flow, Yin Flow, Xin Dang Liu...

From these hardened and unavoidable swordsmanship, you can see the essence of dozens of different genres of kendo.

However, unlike the modern kendo hall which emphasizes on skills, this is the purest and simplest murderous kendo.

Because, in the battlefield of life and death, no matter how talented the samurai is, there is often only a chance to swing a sword.

Mochizuki held his breath and blasted his fist without fear. He knew that he was inevitable, and he planned to attack quickly and make quick decisions...

Facing him with a punch that was enough to burst the ghosts, the several warriors in the front row had no intention of evading at all.

The purple flame ghost claw overlapped with Wangyueche's left arm, intertwined with the blade of light, and brought a burst of golden iron sound.

The bodies of the closest samurai were torn apart in ghost claws without any accident.

"Hi...not good..."

It seemed that something unbelievable happened. Mochizuki's pupils shrank violently, quickly retracted his fists, and stepped on the screen to avoid the subsequent sword lights.

Because, on his right arm, which was supposed to be invincible, there were a few deep bones.

"Hey, I originally wanted to keep it, but it seems that I have to make a real move in advance."

At this time, he noticed that a trace of similar gray aura was lingering on the samurai's knives.

Obviously the samurai "painted" by that weird man, not only inherited the battle spirit that has experienced many battles, but also brought a trace of the power of a real ghost and god!

Just relying on the realm of the power of ghosts and gods to suppress, these blade lights are enough to break through his body guard purple flames.

"Do you think you have the power of ghosts and gods?! Oh ah ah ah..."

Mochizuki's whole body was gray, intertwined with the purple flame, and rose into the sky, and the whole person trembled violently as if suffering from extreme pain.

With a human body, he spurred a lot of power of ghosts and gods.

However, the samurai in front of him did not intend to give him a chance to breathe.

The front-row samurai retreated with one blow, and the back-row samurai immediately stepped forward and handed the sword light seamlessly. While ensuring that the slashes were not interrupted, they did not swiftly eat away Mochizuki’s few dodges. space.

Obviously he is a samurai who uses different genres of swordsmanship and knives of different lengths, but he is like a battlefield of battle-tested, well-coordinated Shinsengumi.

These kendo masters sleeping on the battlefield gathered together across time and space, and turned into a meat grinder that ruthlessly devours life in a small space.

Although historically, the samurai battle formation vigorously cultivated by the shogunate was brutally insulted and defeated by the new Western-style army of the Sa Changlian, who was holding a rifle and lined up in the battle of Fushimi Toba.

But no one can deny the samurai's ability to fight hand-to-hand in a small space.

The densely trained blade light with the power of ghosts and gods, like a silent drizzle, constantly surging with the gray-purple arrogance of Mochizuki's body guard, leaving bloodstains behind.

"With this little effort, are you going to tickle me?"

Facing this kind of battle, Mochizuki, whose whole body was soaked in blood, was aroused to be fierce.

Obviously there are fewer enemies and more enemies, but he relies on his powerful ghost claws to break tricks and exchange injuries for injuries.

However, whenever a samurai was torn to pieces under the ghost claws, he himself would pay a few fine stab wounds as a price.

What Mochizuki Che didn't know was that when he was trapped in the screen and engaged in the "iron cage life and death battle" with the group of warriors...

A moon-wheel-shaped platform, which rises from bottom to top like an elevator, fits tightly with the periphery of the platform on which he is located.

On that platform, two figures, one man and one woman, were vaguely visible.

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