"The bodies have been cleared out. Probably because this is gang territory, no one's reporting crimes." Jack showed Ma Xidao the photos he'd taken that afternoon.
The address of the Korean branch of the "Ichijo-gumi" was obtained by tapping Zhou Xingzhe's phone. Jack had snuck in that afternoon before him to take a look around.
Noticing something was amiss, he quickly withdrew. He also noticed someone seemed to be watching the area, so that evening, he and Ma Xidao waited nearby, hoping for some unexpected results.
"Look at the blood stains seeping down the floor. There are many similar traces. At least seven or eight are dead, and there may be more. Those guys must have simply killed everyone inside who was suspected of betraying their organization. It's typical Yakuza style."
After hearing Jack's analysis, even Ma Xidao's expression grew solemn, but that was all. He'd been dealing with more than just one or two brutal gangsters, and if one punch wasn't enough, he could just throw another.
However, Ma Xidao understood why Jack had initially suggested using extreme measures. The Ichijo-gumi, an old-school gang affiliated with the Yamaguchi-gumi, was not only incredibly brutal but also extremely well-organized.
He found it somewhat incredible that they had managed to conceal so many murders from the police. While the Korean police were largely incompetent, they were still a state-run apparatus, and overall public security in South Korea was quite good.
"What do we do next? Wait until he finds the drugs and catch him in the act, and force him to give up Zhou Xingzhe?" Ma Xidao asked, hearing the faint sounds of demolition and wall-breaking in the distance.
"What's the rush? Those drugs won't be effective until they're in Zhou Xingzhe's hands. We need to make sure he gets them."
Jack was still eyeing the drug money being used by the Taiwanese gangs. How could Zhou Xingzhe continue to rob them without the drugs to trade with them?
As they spoke, a black Mercedes-Benz G-Class suddenly roared in, screeching to a halt at the entrance of the house. Four Yakuza armed with knives and clubs emerged, led by a white-haired man in a red suit.
"Ashiba!" Seeing the white-haired man, Ma Xidao flew into a rage. He put his hand on the car door and wanted to get out and rush over to beat him up, but Jack held him down firmly.
"What's the rush?" Jack texted someone and grabbed Ma Xidao's arm.
"That's the bastard who hit me with his car. Richie was sitting next to him!" Ma Xidao struggled for a few seconds before looking at his right hand in disbelief, surprised to find that this FBI guy seemed to be even stronger than him.
"Are you rushing in now to save them?"
Jack's words startled Ma Xidao. "Of course not. Why would I save Zhou Xingzhe's men? He might have had a hand in Team Leader Zheng's death."
Seeing he finally stopped struggling, Jack finally released Ma Xidao's arm. "So why not just watch the show? That guy's dead. This is a trap. We can follow them and find Richie. He's the leader."
As expected, before Jack could finish his words, a crew-cut young man burst out of a nearby house. Pointing at the Japanese-style house where banging noises were still emanating from the walls, he bowed his head and reported to the white-haired man in the red suit.
Then, the assassins from the "Ichijo Group" stormed into the house. Soon, sounds of fighting and screaming rang out from within, but soon quieted down.
A few minutes later, accompanied by a shrill wail, the white-haired man in the red suit emerged, wiping his bloodied wakizashi. He waved to his men following behind him to help a wounded comrade into the car.
A moment later, seeing the taillights of the black Mercedes-Benz G-Class almost disappear, Jack slowly started the car and followed.
"This is it."
Watching the Mercedes-Benz G-Class stop in front of a restaurant with a Japanese izakaya sign not far from Incheon Port, Jack steered and pulled into a side street.
Without waiting for him to park, Ma Xidao impatiently flung open the door and rushed out.
Is this guy that reckless? Jack quickly opened the trunk, pulled out the crowbar he had prepared, and gave chase. "No, I said, are you planning to charge in like this?"
"Don't you have me? I used to handle things like this alone. My colleagues always showed up after the job was done,"
Ma Xidao complained expressionlessly, then kicked the izakaya's carved wooden door, covered with white paper, away.
"Bakayarō! What?"
A small guard reacted quickly, drawing his wakizashi and charging forward.
Jack pulled out his SIG Sauer and was about to shoot, but Ma Xidao, who was walking in front of him, got there first. He leaned forward slightly and threw a punch, hitting the man right in the chest.
"Bang!"
"Clang!"
The minion's chest caved in, and he flew backward, knocking over a row of tables and chairs. He was apparently breathing out, but not breathing in.
Jack was slightly astonished. God Ma Dong-seok's strength was bordering on inhuman. Even when his own physical stat had just reached 20, he probably couldn't have achieved such an effect.
"Who is it?" Inside the hall, the "Ichijo-gumi" assassins were drinking and enjoying themselves, completely unaware that someone would dare to raid their lair.
"What do you think this place is!" A group of yakuza, drawing their wakizashi, surrounded them, only to retreat in fear upon seeing the pistol in Jack's hand.
A wakizashi is a type of samurai sword, typically only 30-60 cm in length, similar to a slightly longer dagger. It was a backup weapon for samurai during Japan's Warring States period.
No matter how impressive the katana might be, it's still a cold weapon. Without the ability to cut through bullets, one can only surrender.
"Prosecutor Jin told me to keep a close eye on you and try not to shoot, even in the legs," Ma Xidao said suddenly, his face expressionless.
Jack sighed. That was a lot of demands. No one else could possibly be his partner. Reluctantly, he put away his SIG Sauer and shifted the crowbar from his left hand to his right.
There was no other way. According to their plan, the yakuza were going to take them back for the task, so killing them was simply not appropriate.
"Ah!"
Seeing two fools, one unarmed and the other unused, the yakuza suddenly took courage. They rushed forward, shouting and brandishing wakizashi of varying lengths.
The crowbar Jack had prepared wasn't the short, hard-core kind used to pry open car tires, but the heavy-duty crowbar over a meter long used by firefighters.
Not only was it nearly twice as long as the yakuza's wakizashi, it was also incredibly heavy, weighing a full seven or eight kilograms, yet in Jack's hands, it felt like nothing.
"Buzz!"
"Clang!"
The curved end of the crowbar ripped through the air, sending the yakuza's wakizashi flying as he watched in horror. The force of the crowbar, undiminished, flew past the man's scalp, leaving a trail of blood.
"Damn! I used too much force," Jack muttered to himself. He forcibly changed its trajectory, or else the blow would have shattered the man's brains.
Before the yakuza could rejoice, the crowbar, having just swung out, swung back in a half circle, slamming into the man's back. With a terrifying crack, the man collapsed to the ground like a pile of mud.
The broken spine severed the nerve signals to his lower body, instantly depriving the yakuza of control over his sphincter and bladder.
As long as he survived, he considered it a premature life sentence.
Jack took a half step to the side, dodging a swung wakizashi and swinging the crowbar sideways, precisely cracking the other yakuza's jaw.
Spend the rest of your life eating through a straw. Forensic medicine isn't just about dissecting corpses. His mastery of human anatomy, combined with the superhuman physique granted by his system attributes, allows Jack to fight like a surgeon operating on a patient.
While surgeons skillfully wield scalpels to heal, Jack wields a crowbar, ensuring every villain is left helpless for the rest of their lives.
(End of the chapter)