My Avatar Is Becoming the Final Boss-Chapter 80: Tracking

The moment he stepped into the crowd, Ji Minghuan synced his consciousness with both avatars.
Different perspectives overlapped in his mind like a kaleidoscope, forming a bizarre and dazzling visual.
It felt almost like symptoms of withdrawal.
He focused slightly, and the two viewpoints were immediately split by a vertical line—like a co-op video game screen.
This way, Ji Minghuan could distinguish between the two perspectives without confusion.
Unit Two, Xia Pingzhou, was headed toward the meeting spot Origami Ayase had mentioned, catching a train on the way. He grabbed a hand strap and closed his eyes for a short rest in the swaying carriage.
At the same time, Unit One, Black Cocoon, left the hotel and ran across the skies of Minato Ward in Tokyo.
His tall, black figure was completely wrapped in transparent Binding Restraints, moving in the direction Gu Zhuo’an had just left.
He swung past neon signs in Japanese, grabbing at the restraints, flying beneath glass façades and billboards. The Tokyo before him wasn’t aglow with nighttime lights, but held a kind of quiet elegance.
In midair, he closed his eyes. His Binding Restraint Sensory unfurled completely—like a net cast wide over the surroundings.
Moments later, Black Cocoon used the restraints to reduce gravity and landed on the top of a silver commuter train.
He peeled off a strip of restraint from his sleeve and left behind a Binding Restraint Trap on the roof—this would allow him to hear nearby sounds and see what was happening on that street.
As the commuter train clattered forward, the trap captured every sound along the route.
Five minutes later, Black Cocoon sat on the railing of a rooftop, looking down.
Below, a tall but hunched figure walked into an alleyway—it was clearly Gu Zhuo’an. The clothes, hairstyle, and facial features all matched.
Gu Zhuo’an slowly walked deeper into the alley, knocking on a door behind a retractable iron grate.
A voice came from within: “Password?”
Gu Zhuo’an leaned on the wall, thought for a second, then recited three words: “White Shark, Black Tengu, Red Tassel.”
The door cracked open. Someone peeked out and checked a list on their phone.
“Guest No. 15, please come in.”
Gu Zhuo’an entered in silence. The door shut behind him.
Still camouflaged, Black Cocoon dropped into the alleyway, wrapped a restraint around a billboard, and hung upside down beneath it.
He extended a restraint. From behind the door, voices reached him—bursts of soft sounds spreading out: ambient music, customer chatter, the clink of glasses—it seemed to be an illegally operating underground bar.
Illegal, because all bars in the area were officially shut down pending investigation. A bar still open now must be unregistered, likely serving certain underground figures only.
And if Gu Zhuo’an could get inside, he clearly had some underworld connections in Japan. He had been bouncing around internationally investigating Rainbow Wing for the past two years.
“Kinda curious who Dad’s meeting in there, but there’s no way I’m walking in myself…”
Black Cocoon decided to lie in wait, still camouflaged beneath the billboard, hanging silently as he waited for a lucky customer.
Soon, a man in a floral shirt and sunglasses came strolling down the alley, humming a tune.
Hands in his pockets, knees bent as he walked—his posture was sleazy.
He stepped into a blind spot in the surveillance, and just as he was about to dig into his nose with his pinky—
A black restraint shot down and wrapped his wrist. A ghostly voice came from above:
“Sir, nose-picking is uncivilized behavior.”
Before the man could scream, a restraint looped around his head, tied it tight, gagged him, and pulled him up toward the rooftop.
With a bit of force, Black Cocoon knocked him out. The man fell to the ground foaming at the mouth. The dark restraints stripped off all his clothes, leaving only his underwear.
“Ugh… If someone asks why he stayed in that surveillance blind spot so long, just say he got excited and started doing something weird.”
Thinking that, Black Cocoon used the new skill he just learned: Binding Restraint Clone. He raised his right arm. A strip of restraint peeled from his sleeve, dropped to the ground, and began forming a humanoid shape.
Mimicking the man’s features, Black Cocoon whistled while adjusting the clone’s appearance until it matched him exactly. Then he dressed the clone in sunglasses, floral shirt, and slacks.
A black market bigwig was now ready to roll.
“All yours.”
Black Cocoon stood with one hand on his hip, patted the clone’s shoulder, handed it the recorder, and turned to leave.
At that moment, a new perspective entered Ji Minghuan’s mind.
It was from the Binding Restraint Clone—its senses were also far sharper than a normal person’s, though it only had 30% of the original’s stats. A knockoff Black Cocoon, essentially.
“But that’s more than enough…”
Thinking so, Ji Minghuan controlled the clone to hide the recorder inside its sleeve.
Crossing the railing, it dropped precisely into the alley’s surveillance blind spot. It got up and resumed the same sleazy stance—hands in pockets, knees slightly bent—and walked to the bar’s entrance.
Then it knocked on the door.
“Password?”
“White Shark, Black Tengu, Red Tassel.” Ji Minghuan modified the clone’s throat to emit a low voice.
The door opened. Someone peeked out, glanced at the clone, then said respectfully:
“Guest No. 10, please come in.”
The clone stepped through the door, walked down a long corridor where a suited man stood with a scanner. The leader stared at him and said slowly,
“Sorry, but before entering, we require all electronic devices to be surrendered. They’ll be returned later.”
Hearing that, Ji Minghuan had the clone walk forward slowly while extending a restraint from its wrist to wrap around the recorder and shield it, passing the scanner’s check.
The device didn’t make a sound. The restraint blocked all detection.
The man nodded at him and gestured for him to proceed.
At the end of the corridor, a woman in a qipao opened a door. Inside was a lavishly decorated underground bar, small but elegant.
The clone walked in with hands still in pockets, eyes darting around slyly.
The bar was small, so it was easy to spot Gu Zhuo’an.
At the bar, Gu Zhuo’an sat chatting softly with a woman in a red dress.
She had an air of sophistication, seductive eyes, bold red lipstick that contrasted with otherwise plain makeup. She looked like the proprietress.
The clone took a seat casually and extended a restraint from its sleeve to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“What I left with you... did you keep it safe?” Gu Zhuo’an asked.
The woman leaned closer, smiling. “Of course. I’ve kept Mr. Gu’s battle suit well maintained. Our tech staff services it regularly. So... do you have time to share a drink with me?”
She paused, still smiling, though her tone turned a little disappointed:
“But from the looks of it... you came here already drunk. That’s a bit of a letdown.”
“Just say what you called me for,” Gu Zhuo’an replied.
The red-dressed woman leaned on the bar, resting her chin in her hand, lips curling.
She said, “There’s an auction in Tokyo in a few days. The top brass from my family will be attending. They’re recruiting elite bodyguards. If I could find someone impressive, it’d win me major favor... If Mr. Gu would help me with this, I’d be truly grateful.”
Ji Minghuan’s eyes lit up.
“Say yes, say yes, say yes—please say yes, Dad. That way you three can reunite in the bodyguard team.”
But Gu Zhuo’an’s answer was not what he’d hoped:
“Hiring Ghost Bell as a bodyguard... you’re crazy.”
“We’ve known each other for years.”
“I refuse,” Gu Zhuo’an said flatly. “I don’t want to get involved with Japan’s underworld again. I don’t owe you anything.” He paused. “I’m traveling with some kids. I just want to enjoy a vacation, not get into trouble.”
“What? You’re vacationing?” Ji Minghuan twitched. “Come on, just take her request—or you’ll be enjoying your vacation while waiting for news that your son died.”
The woman leaned in and whispered near Gu Zhuo’an’s ear:
“Fine. I figured you’d say no... Let’s change the subject. You’re rarely in Japan. How about... going on a date with me?”
Gu Zhuo’an was silent for a moment. “We already talked about this.”
“What a shame. It’s rare for me to fall for someone for this long.” She turned her eyes away and laughed bitterly. “Guess the living can’t compete with the dead.”
Surprisingly, Gu Zhuo’an didn’t get mad. He just paused in thought.
“My son... said the same thing to me.” He spoke quietly.
“Because that’s the kind of man you are...” she said, then slowly turned and walked away.
At that moment, Ji Minghuan had the clone stand up and approach the bar.
It sat beside Gu Zhuo’an, pulled the recorder from its sleeve, and placed it on the bar counter, sliding it toward him.
“Someone asked me to give this to you,” it said softly.
In the dim lighting, Gu Zhuo’an frowned, looked at the recorder, then at the clone.
“And you are?”
“Listen to the recording—you’ll know.”
The Binding Restraint Clone said in a low tone, got up from the barstool, hands in trouser pockets, and walked away with a gangster swagger, never looking back.