Chapter 28: Who Says Women Are Inferior to Men?

The scarred man, who struck first, roared and lunged to crush Luo Quan in a bear hug—his best tactic against someone slimmer than himself; if he could pin her to the ground, no matter how skilled she was, she’d be utterly helpless.

But all that was merely the scarred man’s delusion; it might work on an ordinary girl, but Luo Quan was no fool who froze when someone charged at her.

“Ha!” Luo Quan spat out a sharp cry, her long right leg snapping upward in a brutal kick that slammed into the scarred man’s chest. Staggering back several steps, he clutched his chest and coughed violently.

Luo Quan also retreated two steps from the recoil—mainly because her strength was relatively weak, and being new to combat, her stance was unsteady.

Seizing the advantage, Luo Quan stabilized herself and immediately sprang forward like a swift rabbit, swinging her right fist.

The scarred man gritted his teeth and swung back, but Luo Quan sidestepped with flawless agility; his fist whistled past her nose, while her straight punch landed squarely on his ribs.

The Matsubayashi-style karate was famed for its brute force and wide, sweeping strikes, excelling in direct punches and high kicks—and Luo Quan targeted the scarred man’s weak point, hammering his ribs with full force.

Though no bone cracked, this area was one of the human body’s most vulnerable spots: sparse muscle coverage and uniquely shaped bones made it prone to instant incapacitation under impact.

Clearly, the scarred man had never trained to endure pain; the punch to his ribs stole half his breath, and the other half refused to enter—his diaphragm spasmed violently, his lungs clamped shut as if gripped by iron tongs, rendering him unable to breathe.

Having scored another hit, Luo Quan swung another straight punch, aiming for the scarred man’s jaw.

Though she had never been cruel by nature, the karate techniques granted by the system made her instinctively unleash the most vicious strikes in combat.

With a sharp crack, her fist struck the scarred man’s jaw—the only movable bone in the skull—where a heavy blow could cause anything from concussion and unconsciousness to death.

Luo Quan’s attack was clean and precise; her lack of strength was compensated by her superior karate skill. The scarred man’s upper body jerked violently backward, then collapsed lifelessly onto the floor.

Meanwhile, the suited man fighting Yuriko Yanagisawa had also collapsed, lying like a dead dog.

Yuriko Yanagisawa had precisely jabbed the tip of her umbrella into the center of the suited man’s neck, striking the vagus nerve—he didn’t even groan before passing out, falling faster than the scarred man had.

Wen Xia stood frozen in the middle, utterly stunned; she’d assumed the boss she’d come to confront was Hoshino Sakura, never expecting to be ambushed by two burly men the moment she entered the room.

The previously seemingly clueless Yuriko Yanagisawa had transformed into a swordswoman, using her umbrella as a blade to instantly knock the suited man down.

Luo Quan was even more terrifying; though she was the tallest among the three, she was weaker than Wen Xia, and during their playful sparring, Wen Xia had easily pinned her down with no resistance.

Now she’d become a violent girl, unleashing a flurry of punches that left the 1.8-meter-tall giant with no defense—he passed out in under half a minute!

“You… you’re too strong!” Wen Xia finally shrieked, her sluggish mind finally catching up; never before had she so desperately wished to learn a martial art—whether karate or kendo!

“Oh my god, I twisted my wrist.” Luo Quan winced, clutching her wrist; it was her first real fight, and she’d misjudged the force when striking the scarred man’s jaw, suffering a sprain.

“Rin-chan, endure it—don’t touch it, find ice to apply cold compress!” Yuriko Yanagisawa, from a kendo family, knew exactly how to handle this; Wen Xia hurried inside the house at once.

Though the house was large, the kitchen was easy to find; Wen Xia quickly pulled out a drawer from the freezer, filled with meat and scattered ice cubes.

Yuriko Yanagisawa tore a long strip from her pale yellow floral dress, placed the ice inside, and carefully wrapped it around Luo Quan’s wrist, tying a neat bow.

“This is the best we can do for now—if the pain gets unbearable when we get back, you’ll need to see a doctor.”

“Find rope and tie these two up first.” Luo Quan gritted her teeth, staring at the two men on the floor.

“Look what I found!” Wen Xia dragged out a brown burlap sack from behind the sofa—a sack that was wriggling.

Luo Quan rolled her eyes: “What else could it be? It’s Hoshino Sakura—untie it quick.”

Wen Xia hurriedly untied the rope binding the sack’s mouth and handed it to Yuriko Yanagisawa, who then tied the same rope around the wrists of the two burly men, knotting it tightly.

Yuriko Yanagisawa pulled the sack down—revealing a woman with disheveled hair. Hoshino Sakura’s face was pale, her eyes tinged with fear, but she’d clearly heard the commotion; now, she was safe.

After untying the ropes binding her hands and feet, Hoshino Sakura yanked the white cloth from her mouth and stared at the three girls, still shaken: “You… how did you get here?”

Luo Quan laughed: “Our phone call went terribly, so I decided to visit in person—turns out I stumbled upon two robbers. Isn’t that convenient?”

“They’re not robbers,” Hoshino Sakura said, swallowing hard.

Luo Quan frowned: “What do you mean?”

Hoshino Sakura’s emotions gradually calmed: “Half a month ago, the second-in-command of the Sumiyoshi-kai sent someone to invite me to dinner alone—I refused. The next day, I received an anonymous text threatening to make me regret it.”

I thought they wouldn’t dare go that far—just empty threats—so I didn’t take it seriously. But today… this happened.”

Hearing Sumiyoshi-kai, Luo Quan now understood; as one of Japan’s three major yakuza organizations, Sumiyoshi-kai controlled Shinjuku, Shibuya, Ginza, Roppongi—the most lucrative districts—rich beyond measure, and some of its bosses liked spending money to keep female stars as mistresses.

But outright violence against female entertainers was extremely rare; still, they should call the police first and let them handle it.

“By the way, how did you find this place?” After calling the police, Hoshino Sakura asked curiously.

Luo Quan smiled: “Our phone call went so badly, I decided to come visit in person.”

At this topic, Hoshino Sakura’s expression turned awkward.

On one hand, Luo Quan had just saved her—she was a savior; on the other, they’d previously clashed, and she couldn’t bring herself to make peace now.

Hoshino Sakura lifted her chin slightly, her gaze tinged with pride: “The online trolls weren’t hired by me. The paparazzi who took those photos weren’t paid by me. If I want to strike someone, I do it openly—I never stoop to sneaky tricks!”

“So it really wasn’t you?” Luo Quan fell into thought. Who else could be targeting her? She hadn’t offended anyone else besides Hoshino Sakura.

After thinking for a while, Luo Quan found no clear lead—she set it aside for now and focused on solving the immediate problem.

“Forget the online slander for now—what did you mean back at the beach? I didn’t say a word, yet you immediately made things difficult for me. I was even going to thank you.” Luo Quan fixed her gaze on Hoshino Sakura, demanding an answer to this long-standing mystery.

Hearing Luo Quan’s accusation, Hoshino Sakura fell silent for a moment, then said: “I was wrong about that. I misunderstood you at the time, and when I learned the truth, I was too embarrassed to apologize.”

“What misunderstanding?”

Hoshino Sakura sighed: “I thought you were American. I grew up in the U.S., and as an Asian, I faced constant discrimination at school—I came to hate Americans.”

Hearing this, Luo Quan stared blankly, then touched her face in sudden realization: “So it was my appearance that caused this?”