Ryuzaki Makoto's words fell to the ground.
The air vibrated.
Dust billowed in the distance, and the roar of large-displacement diesel engines shattered the silence of the ruins.
A rhythmic, slight tremor came from the ground, and gravel bounced on the concrete.
Ryuzaki Makoto's gaze pierced through the swirling dust.
"Look, the guests have arrived."
...
An unnamed street.
This area used to be a shantytown, but now it has been razed to the ground by bulldozers and excavators.
The vast ruined square was littered with exposed steel bars and concrete fragments.
Dozens of heavy trucks lined up in a long line, rolling over gravel and screeching as they braked.
The convoy stopped.
The lead black armored car slowly came to a stop.
The car door opened, and a shiny leather shoe stepped onto the dusty ground.
The believer, Jilong, was wearing a custom-made black suit without a tie, and his collar was open, revealing a section of tattoo on his neck.
He leaned against the hood of the Maybach, scanning the young figure ahead.
Several men with fierce auras stood on either side of him.
On the left is a lean, dark-skinned man with bulging temples and his hands wrapped in white Muay Thai bandages.
Kagetora Yoshida.
This person is the top henchman of the Shanxin Society, the sharpest knife of Shanxin Jilong.
He fought in Thailand's underground boxing scene for five years.
In every underground boxing tournament that Yoshida Kagetora participated in, there were no runners-up, only corpses.
The champions were all Yoshida Kagetora.
The person on the right is not tall, and even looks somewhat stocky. He has a buzz cut, and his hands are covered with calluses, with large and deformed knuckles.
Udaka Shinichi.
The infamous "meat grinder" in the yakuza world.
His fingers are incredibly strong, capable of crushing an enemy's throat with his bare hands, and he excels at dismantling an opponent's joints in close combat.
Besides these two trusted confidants, three other figures stood behind the believer, Jilong.
These three people should not have been in the Believers' Association's camp.
Kuki Genji.
Da Ting Guoguang.
Kenjiro Okito.
These three were all junior leaders of Kurosaki's faction and fierce generals under Kurosaki Kimryu.
At this moment, they stood solemnly in the ranks of the Believers' Association, wearing jackets bearing the emblem of the Kurosaki-kai.
The believer, Jilong, exhaled a smoke ring and glanced slightly backward.
"Where is Kurosaki-sama?"
"Since you're willing to get involved in this mess and lend me a hand, why don't you come yourself?"
"This scene shouldn't be enough to scare him out of his wits."
Oba Kunimitsu stepped forward, bowed slightly, and spoke respectfully, but his back was ramrod straight.
"President Shanxin, you flatter me."
"Chairman Kurosaki is getting on in years and has been unwell recently."
"This kind of rough work involving fighting and killing is not suitable for the chairman to do personally."
"Moreover, both Kurosaki and Shinshin belong to 'Kowloon'."
"If the lips are gone, the teeth will be cold; if we are of the same breath, we will be connected. As members of Kowloon, we can never stand by and watch our comrades fight alone here."
Upon hearing this, the believer Jilong remained silent, but sighed inwardly.
Kurosaki the Old Demon.
Do you think I'll lose?
Do you think I'm going to die here?
Thanks anyway.
Kurosaki Kimryo, that old fox, is usually the most shrewd and calculating, but today he sent his core young leader to help him.
This is clearly not about fighting for territory.
This is to save the lives of believers.
During this period, although Kurosaki Junryu appeared to be keeping a low profile, he had probably secretly uncovered the true nature of the True Dragon Society.
Kurosaki Kimryu has done the deductions and comparisons.
There is only one conclusion: the believers have a very small chance of winning.
Moreover, intelligence networks indicate that the True Dragon Society even purchased a large quantity of weapons from an unknown overseas force, with firepower exceeding that of some regular armies.
The two sides are vastly different in strength.
Kurosaki sent people not to help Shanxin Jilong win, but to ensure that someone could protect him and help him escape the encirclement and save his life when Shanxin Jilong's army was in complete disarray.
This is the last bit of affection among the older generation of underworld tyrants.
The believer, Jilong, shook his head.
"Oh."
"Kurosaki, you underestimate me, Shanxin Jilong."
The believer, Jilong, raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the empty square and settling on the lone young man.
Ryuzaki Makoto.
Dressed casually with his hands in his pockets, he stood out awkwardly in the middle of the ruins.
"Hey, you brat."
The believer, Jilong, spoke in a loud and clear voice, exuding an undeniable air of authority.
"I've heard your story."
"You really have some skills to single-handedly take down an entire school in Fengxian."
"But a school is a school, this is the Yakuza."
"That's children's playhouse; this is an adult meat grinder."
"Don't think that you can become the king here just because you beat up a few delinquents."
"Look behind me. Do you think you can take on all of us by yourself?"
Ryuzaki Makoto did not get angry upon hearing this.
He slightly raised his eyes, his gaze passing over the believer Jilong and looking at the dark sea of people behind him.
More than a thousand people.
The elite members of the Believers' Association came out in full force.
Beside the truck, on the ruins, were thugs dressed in black suits.
They weren't carrying guns; each of them held a long knife, a steel pipe, or a modified machete.
The blade gleamed with a chilling light.
Thousands of people gathered together, without making a fuss or causing a disturbance.
Ryuzaki couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion.
This is the true old-school yakuza.
Even as the sun sets, its profound heritage remains.
Every one of these people has blood on their hands and has a history of murder.
They were different from SWORD's gang of thugs who fought for the sake of the neighborhood.
This group of people kill for survival, for profit, and for power.
Their level of organization, discipline, and brutality are on completely different levels.
Ryuzaki had actually considered using those big guns in the armory...
If we set up four heavy machine guns here and bombard them with grenades, these thousand-plus people in front of us will be nothing more than moving targets.
Within minutes, this place will become a true hell on earth.
Blood flowed like a river.
But no, that won't work.
Ryuzaki Makoto shook his head, rejecting the tempting idea.
This is an unnamed street.
Now everyone's attention is focused on this.
The commotion from the fight involving thousands of people could barely be suppressed by the sound of the wind.
But if you fire a gun, it won't be so easy to fool someone if they hear it.
Once the shooting is reported, special forces will intervene, and even if the True Dragon Society wins this battle, it will be wiped out by the authorities.
Moreover, the believer Jilong chose an unnamed street as the battleground and set up a formation of purely cold weapons.
This is a signal.
They'll fight to the death with knives and fists.
That's fine too.
The believer, Jilong, put in all his savings and showed the courage to burn his bridges.
This saved Ryuzaki Makoto from further trouble.
If we defeat them here, the Believers' Association will become history and be uprooted.
"Everything begins and ends there."
Ryuzaki Makoto muttered to himself as he slowly pulled his hands out of his pockets.
"Click."
The wrist rotated, and the joints made a crisp popping sound.
Ryuzaki Makoto unbuttoned his coat and casually tossed it onto the dusty ground.
He stretched his neck, stared at the distant believer Jilong, and said loudly:
"President of the Benevolent Association".
"In this day and age, it is truly rare to see someone like you who upholds tradition in the Yakuza."
"You have gathered so many people and made such a big show of it, which is a sign of your respect for me."
"In return, I must show you all my respect."
The words fell.
Ryuzaki Makoto raised his hands and clapped them three times forcefully in the empty square.
"Smack."
"Smack."
"Smack."
The applause was crisp and resounding.
The next second.
In the shadow of the ruins, behind the broken walls, lies a street corner that was once empty.
Countless footsteps sounded at the same time...