Amamiya Zunlong leaned against the headboard, his cold face pale.
His gaze was somewhat fixed, shifting from the apple to Ryuzaki Makoto's face.
John Lone shook his head.
"No, thank you."
Ryuzaki Shin took it back without any polite formalities.
He opened his mouth and took a big bite of the apple.
"Click".
The crisp sound echoed in the quiet ward.
Juice overflows, and the pulp is crushed between your teeth.
Ryuzaki Makoto chewed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed.
He ate very seriously, as if it were some kind of extraordinary mission.
One mouthful.
Another bite.
The only sound in the room was the chewing noise.
This silence is not only oppressive, but also more like a form of torture.
Amamiya Zonryu's fingers gripped the bed sheet beneath him tightly.
The deathly silence made him uneasy.
John Lone's throat moved, finally breaking the suffocating silence.
How long was I unconscious?
After finishing the last bite of fruit, Ryuzaki carefully tossed the remaining pit into a trash can three meters away.
Clang.
He pulled out a tissue and slowly wiped the stickiness off his fingers.
"Who knows? One or two days? Ten days or half a month? I don't keep track of such trivial matters."
Ryuzaki Makoto's tone was flat, with a hint of nonchalance.
John Lone frowned.
This vague answer made his mind even more foggy.
He tried to move his body, bracing himself on the bed with his hands, trying to sit up.
Engage your arm muscles.
A feeling of weakness instantly spread from my spine throughout my body.
That's due to muscle weakness and soreness after prolonged inactivity.
It felt as if lead had filled every crevice of my bones, making me feel heavy and sluggish.
I don't think it's lying.
This level of exhaustion could not have occurred in just one or two days of unconsciousness.
It will definitely take a long time.
John Lone gritted his teeth, a fine layer of sweat beading on his forehead.
He engaged his core muscles, forcibly propping himself up, and leaned his back against the cold headboard. His breathing was rapid, and his mouth felt as dry as if it were being rubbed with sand.
"Could you pour me a glass of water?" John Lone's voice was hoarse.
Ryuzaki Makoto stood up and picked up the stainless steel kettle on the table.
Water is poured into the glass.
"Splash."
The sound of the water was clear and crisp.
Ryuzaki Shin handed the water glass to Zunlong.
John Lone took the cup, ignoring the water's temperature, and gulped it down.
The liquid slid down his throat, hydrating his parched bodily functions.
The burning pain subsided slightly.
He let out a long breath, put down the empty cup, and his gaze sharpened, fixed intently on Ryuzaki Makoto.
What happened while I was unconscious?
Ryuzaki Shin did not answer immediately.
He walked to the window and grabbed the edge of the heavy blackout curtains.
"Whoosh—"
The curtains were suddenly pulled open.
The blinding sunlight streamed into the ward without any obstruction.
Ryuzaki Makoto opened the window.
The noise from the streets, the roar of cars, and even the hammering sounds from the construction site in the distance all rushed in at once.
"Nothing serious happened."
Ryuzaki Makoto had his back to Zunlong, his hands resting on the windowsill as he gazed into the distance.
"That is, I wiped out the Iemura clan and the Uehara clan."
The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a thunderclap.
"Kowloon Group withdrew from the redevelopment project of Wuming Street, and now that project belongs to me."
Ryuzaki Makoto turned around, backlit, making his expression somewhat unclear.
"Nothing else, just a reshuffling of the deck."
On the hospital bed.
Amamiya Zonryu's hand trembled slightly.
His eyes widened slowly, and his pupils contracted amidst the violent tremors.
Staring blankly at Ryuzaki Makoto, Zunlong's mind went completely blank.
Family Village Meeting.
The garden party.
These are not just the names of two clubs.
This is a sharp weapon in the hands of the Kowloon Group.
These are desperados, countless knives, guns, and clubs, and a deeply entrenched network of interests.
Destroyed?
Just such a casual remark?
John Lone instinctively wanted to laugh and ask if the other person was joking.
In order to obtain evidence of the crimes committed by the Uesugi Society and to find that crucial USB drive, Amamiya Zunlong, like a rat in the sewers, lurked, endured, and went undercover for so many years.
He gave up his identity, his dignity, and even the opportunity to reunite with his brothers.
It was simply to obtain evidence that could put the other party in court.
And this man in front of me, during the time he was unconscious.
It might have taken a few days, or it might have taken a week, to simply wipe out these two behemoths?
Is this the difference between individual power and group violence?
Even the best lone wolf can only fight with his two fists.
A powerful and ruthless tyrant can unleash a bloodbath with a mere flick of his finger.
John Lone used to firmly believe in the power of the individual. He believed that as long as his fists were strong enough and his will was firm enough, he could shake the high walls.
But now, reality has given him a heavy slap in the face.
Ryuzaki Makoto looked at Zunlong's stunned expression and seemed quite satisfied with the effect.
John Lone took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
This man has no reason to lie.
"Shangyuan Longchen..."
John Lone clenched his teeth when he said the name.
Is he still alive?
Ryuzaki Makoto turned his head to the side and glanced at John Lone.
"I said, I've destroyed it."
"To wipe them out means to kill them all, from top to bottom, from the chairman to the cadres."
"That old bastard didn't die a very painful death."
Ryuzaki Makoto said with a smile.
"How does it feel? Aren't you satisfied with getting revenge?"
carefree?
John Lone was stunned.
His hand was on his chest.
Uehara Tatsumi killed his parents.
This is a blood feud.
According to his countless day and night fantasies, at this moment he should be ecstatic, should roar to the sky, and should weep bitterly at his parents' graves.
But no.
At this moment, his heart felt empty.
There was no sense of satisfaction from revenge; instead, there was an inexplicable emptiness.
It's like a marathon you've been preparing for for ten years. You're warming up at the starting line, tying your shoelaces, and adjusting your breathing.
Then the referee comes over and tells you: the race is canceled, and the champion has been taken by that guy in the Ferrari.
What kind of situation is this?
When I woke up, all my enemies were dead.
They died completely, and their bodies may have even been disposed of.
There was no sense of participation whatsoever.
There was no tactile sensation of personally plunging a blade into the chest of an enemy.
I didn't see the moment my enemy's eyes went out.
There was absolutely no sense of real revenge.
John Lone lowered his head, looking at his slightly pale hands.
A long time passed.
"You hacked the USB drive?"
John Lone's voice sounded somewhat hoarse.
In his preconceived notion, how could a behemoth like Kowloon Group easily withdraw from Wuming Street?
The only explanation for Ryuzaki's ability to do this is that USB drive.
The USB drive containing core evidence of the Kowloon Group's crimes.
It must be that Ryuzaki Makoto used the evidence on the USB drive to threaten the Kowloon Group, or simply made it public.
Ryuzaki Makoto walked back to the bedside, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, and tapped it on the table.
"It's cracked."
"However, I'm useless."
John Lone suddenly looked up, his brows furrowing into a deep frown, his eyes filled with doubt and confusion.
"It didn't work?"
That USB drive was something he risked his life for; it was the Achilles' heel of the Kowloon Group.
With it, a major upheaval could occur at the top of the Kowloon Group.
Ryuzaki Makoto actually said it was useless?
"Smack."
Ryuzaki Makoto lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and the smoke filled the ward.
You heard me right.
"We don't need such good stuff to deal with an opponent of Kowloon's caliber."
Ryuzaki flicked his cigarette ash, his tone dismissive.
He wasn't putting on airs.
That USB drive contained detailed records of the Kowloon Group's bribery of various government officials over the years; it was a true political bombshell.
In this world, the real manipulators are the politicians and tycoons in high positions.
Ryuzaki really wants a bigger stage.
He wanted to have a place in the House of Representatives; he wanted to have his name engraved in the heart of the nation's power structure.
That USB drive was a crucial bargaining chip for his future campaign for Congress, a ticket to exchange favors with higher-ups.
Are you going to use something like this against a mere Kowloon Group?
That's like using an anti-aircraft gun to kill a mosquito—not only wasteful, but also foolish.
To deal with Kowloon, brute force is enough.
Ryuzaki didn't explain any of this to John Lone. For a pure martial artist like John Lone, politics and power struggles were too dirty and too complicated.
Their worldview consists only of black and white, gratitude and hatred.
In Ryuzaki's world, there is only profit and power.
This is a fundamental generation gap.
Ryuzaki stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray; the sparks flickered a few times before going out completely.
He didn't intend to talk about the past anymore.
The past is behind us; the dead cannot speak, nor will they crawl out of hell.
The future is what matters.
"Let's end our reminiscing here."
Ryuzaki straightened the collar of his suit.
"Three days from now, I will have a showdown with Kowloon."
"The Shan Xin faction, the last remaining henchman of the entire Kowloon Group, will become my prey."
"By destroying the Shanxin Society, the tiger that is Kowloon Group will have its teeth pulled out and its claws chopped off."
Ryuzaki Shin looked at Zunlong with piercing eyes.
"Want to come?"
In Ryuzaki Makoto's view, the current "True Dragon Society" is strong and well-funded, and its power has expanded to a terrifying level.
The purge of the believers three days later was less a decisive battle and more a one-sided massacre.
The remaining old, weak, and disabled soldiers of the Kowloon Group were no match for the True Dragon Society's iron hooves.
This is a war with no suspense whatsoever.
Although this bone is a bit hard, it's only a matter of using your teeth a little; it's not particularly difficult.
But even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit.
Ryuzaki Shin never underestimates any battle; he wants to be absolutely certain of victory.
Amamiya Sonryu is considered a legend.
If they could wield this sharpest blade, the True Dragon Society's war chariots would become even more invincible.
John Lone remained silent.
He lowered his head and looked at the pristine white sheets.
The sheer volume of information conveyed in those few minutes was overwhelming, shocking him to his core.
The end of revenge.
The whereabouts of the USB drive.
A new hegemon.
And the upcoming final battle.
Every piece of news struck his heart like a hammer blow.
It's not that he doesn't want to go.
His hatred for the Kowloon Group has not disappeared.
However, all of this happened too fast, too unreal.
He was somewhat dazed.
Ryuzaki didn't say anything more.
The opportunity has already been given.
Whether or not they can catch it is someone else's business.
"Tap, tap, tap."
The sound of leather shoes striking the ground rang out.
Ryuzaki Makoto turned around and walked straight towards the door of the ward.
He stopped at the door, gripped the doorknob, but didn't turn around.
You have three days to consider it.
The door opened, then closed again.
The room fell silent once more.
Only Amamiya Takayuki remained, leaning against the headboard, gazing at the surging clouds outside the window—a harbinger of an impending storm.
Three days.
That was the final countdown of the old era...