The cold wind howled.
Have you ever complained about me?
When Ryuzaki Makoto uttered those words.
The bodies of the several grown men involuntarily stiffened slightly.
Tamao Serizawa frowned, his face full of doubt.
Complaining?
What's there to complain about?
Life is so much better now than before. We have money and status, and everyone on the street bows down and calls us "Big Brother".
Following Ryuzaki Makoto, aside from those few perverted instructors who were a bit too harsh on him, Serizawa had absolutely no complaints.
But Yuji Toji and Shun Izaki clearly thought things through more deeply.
The two exchanged a very subtle glance in the darkness, a look that contained both realization and helplessness.
Intelligent people don't need many words to communicate. They understood what Ryuzaki Makoto meant.
In the past, Lily of the Valley relied on fists; whoever won was the boss, and there weren't many tricks involved.
But things are different now.
They wield real power and control businesses that generate substantial profits.
The taste of power can be addictive, and it can also make people more sensitive.
Did Ryuzaki really give enough?
That's enough.
But compared to those "dragon generals" who rose to prominence later and were parachuted into high positions, these veterans who fought alongside them really had no resentment at all.
That's fake.
No one is perfect.
Seeing those outsiders lording it over me and giving orders, the feeling of resentment I felt was instinctive.
Although they hadn't aged much, this brutal life in the yakuza world had matured their minds.
They grew up and learned to hide their true thoughts behind a mask.
"Boss, what did you say?"
Serizawa scratched his messy blond hair, breaking the awkward silence with a confident and naive tone in his voice.
"How could we possibly..."
Ryuzaki Makoto raised his hand.
This one action instantly choked Serizawa back into his throat, preventing him from saying the rest of his declaration of loyalty.
Ryuzaki Makoto's gaze swept over everyone.
"When we were choosing the Dragon General, Goro Ishida and Kaoru Kazama took the position, while you, who are the oldest people who have followed me the longest, are still working down there."
"Do you feel that I'm being unfair? Do you feel that I'm favoring outsiders?"
Upon hearing this question, Serizawa, who had originally intended to laugh it off, was completely rendered speechless.
He fell silent.
It wasn't that these words truly stung his heart and made him feel wronged to the point of wanting to cry.
To be honest, he was so busy training and killing people every day that he had completely forgotten about that old, trivial matter, just like he had forgotten whether he had eaten breakfast or not.
I did feel wronged back then, but after working under those people...
That bit of resentment was replaced by a more direct admiration for the strong.
Ultimately, the path to ultimate power is one where the strong reign supreme.
"Boss, let me tell you the truth."
Shun Izaki raised his head.
"When the list was first announced, I was indeed a little unhappy."
"Why should I? I, Shun Izaki, have shed blood and fought countless battles at Suzuran. I was always at the forefront. Why should I listen to those people?"
At this point, Shun Izaki gave a self-deprecating laugh.
"But later, after actually working with several top generals, the feeling changed."
"Whether it's their vision for commanding the overall situation or their methods of strategizing, I, Shun Izaki, can tell the difference. Their abilities are indeed superior to ours."
If you're not as skilled as others, you have to accept it.
"So all that resentment is gone, boss. You don't need to overthink it. We're completely convinced now."
Ryuzaki listened quietly, neither nodding in agreement nor shaking his head in rebuttal.
He slowly stood up.
"Splash."
Almost simultaneously, the five people sitting around the table sprang up in unison, their movements so synchronized they were almost comical.
They stood at attention, like soldiers awaiting inspection.
Ryuzaki Makoto stepped forward and walked up to Izaki Shun.
He reached out, his movements very light, even gentle, to straighten Shun's slightly crooked collar.
Then it was Yuji Tokaji who brushed a blade of grass off his shoulder.
Next up are Serizawa, Chuta, and Makise.
Ryuzaki Shin didn't miss a single one.
He patted each person on the shoulder and squeezed their firm deltoid muscles hard with his palm.
Ryuzaki Makoto's lips moved slightly.
The words that were on the tip of my tongue: Thank you, you've worked hard, and I look forward to the future...
In the end, it all went back down, turning into a single roll of the Adam's apple.
What are you saying?
Should I say thank you?
It seemed distant.
Talking about the future?
The vast emptiness.
He knew very well that once the operation to wipe out the Shanxin faction began three days later, the entire Zhenlong Society would be like a meat grinder running at full speed.
The old order will be shattered, and a new map will be drawn.
He came today perhaps only because of a lingering sense of nostalgia that hasn't completely faded, wanting to see the brothers he once rolled around in the mud with.
After all, he himself could hardly remember the last time he had sat face-to-face with these people, not discussing business, but simply sitting together.
But when they met again, the sense of distance was like a transparent glass wall, separating them.
Ryuzaki Makoto never considered himself a sentimental person.
In this dog-eat-dog world, sentimentality is the most useless emotion.
He took a deep breath of the cold air, which smelled of charcoal, and expelled those distracting thoughts along with the stale air from his chest.
Life is like a train; as long as it keeps speeding forward, some people are bound to fall behind.
Some people got off the bus, and some fell behind.
This is an inevitable law.
If you want to climb to the highest mountaintop to see the view, be prepared to face the cold wind alone.
Those friends who used to play with you at the foot of the mountain may not even be able to climb to the middle of the mountain.
That's not their fault, and it's not your fault either.
That's determined by altitude.
The strong are always solitary travelers.
The only thing Ryuzaki Makoto was certain of was this.
His steps will not stop.
Even if there is an abyss or a sea of fire ahead, he will never stop, nor will he slow down to wait for anyone.
This is the awareness of a leader.
Ryuzaki Makoto turned around, his back to the firelight.
"No need to see me off."
"There's still plenty of meat left, don't waste it, eat it all."
After saying that, he took a step, then another, and his figure gradually disappeared into the thick darkness until he was completely swallowed up by the night and could no longer be seen.
Serizawa and the others stood there, watching the disappearing figure, and did not sit down for a long time.
The flickering firelight stretched their lonely shadows long.
...
Mitsui Fudosan, Matsukaze-dai.
Ryuzaki Shin raised his hand and glanced at his watch.
The clock hand points to eleven o'clock.
Pushing open the heavy door, the motion-sensor light in the entryway softly illuminates.
Deep inside the living room, a warm yellow floor lamp still shines.
No matter how late it is, that light is always on.
That was Asuka's waiting.
As long as he doesn't say in advance that he won't be coming back, that woman will definitely wait, even if it's until dawn.
"Click".
The door lock clicked shut.
Ryuzaki Makoto called out as he loosened his tie.
"I'm back."
Before the words had even finished, a series of hurried footsteps approached.
Asuka, dressed in a soft loungewear outfit, jogged into the entryway.
She held the pair of slippers he often wore in her hand and skillfully bent down to place them.
She moved closer to Ryuzaki Makoto, wrinkled her upturned nose slightly, and took a deep sniff of his scent.
"Really, you've been drinking?"
Besides the taste of alcohol, there is also a faint smell of charcoal.
Ryuzaki Makoto took off his leather shoes and put on comfortable slippers.
"Yes, I ran into a few old subordinates and we drank a bottle of sake."
"It's alright."
He waved his hand casually.
Asuka didn't ask any further questions.
She's a smart woman; she knows when to ask questions and when to keep quiet.
Asuka took Ryuzaki Makoto's hand and led him to sit down on the large leather sofa in the living room.
"Sit still and don't move."
After saying that, she turned and walked towards the restroom.
Not long after, she returned carrying a delicate basin of water, from which wisps of steam rose.
A white towel was soaking in the water.
Asuka knelt on the carpet, wrung out a towel, and water droplets dripped into the basin.
She gently lifted Ryuzaki Makoto's large hand and carefully wiped his fingers and palm with a hot towel.
The warm touch seeped into my pores, dispelling the chill of the night.
After wiping her hands, she straightened up and gently wiped Ryuzaki Makoto's face.
Forehead, corners of the eyes, cheeks.
That meticulous care gradually relaxed Ryuzaki Makoto's tense nerves.
After washing up, Asuka got up, poured out the dirty water, tidied everything up, and then turned and walked towards the kitchen.
"You rest for a while, I'll go make you a bowl of hangover soup."
"It will be ready soon."
Soon, the kitchen was filled with the soft sounds of pots and pans clattering together, and the gas stove being lit.
Ryuzaki leaned back on the sofa, watching the slender figure busy in the kitchen.
He fights his way through this brutal underworld, and everyone either reveres him, fears him, or wants to kill him.
Only here was he treated like an ordinary man.
Ryuzaki Makoto stood up and walked slowly to the kitchen door.
He approached silently.
Extend your hand.
He embraced the woman from behind who was tasting the soup, his strong arms encircling her slender waist.
Asuka stiffened for a moment, then softened and obediently leaned back into that firm embrace.
Ryuzaki buried his face deeply in his long, smooth, black hair...