"Wait, you… why are you all…"
Angela Reagan stood frozen, staring blankly at the carnage. At least she wasn't so foolish as to raise her weapon against her own colleagues.
Oh—correction: they weren't her colleagues at all. These were auxiliary patrolmen. How could they ever stand on equal ground with a police inspector? Apart from Angela, the only one with an actual badge on the scene was the half-mechanical narcotics hound sniffing around. Tsk, tsk… not worth my time.
Since he couldn't befriend the dog, Li Pan strolled idly up beside the policewoman, grinning as he tried to strike up conversation.
"Seems you really didn't know, huh? Some police family you are. Tch. You wouldn't believe me even if I told you. Look it up yourself. Oh, you'll need the deep net. Here—let me give you a link. Just search the keywords: East Castle Society, initiation. Tons of results. Their own uploads, no less."
Angela Reagan hesitated, glanced at him, then reluctantly accepted the comm link. Moments later, she gagged and doubled over into the flowerbed, retching violently.
Li Pan, ever the "gentleman," added helpfully:
"For their so-called loyalty oath, whenever they promote a cadre, they've got to carve up a relative of an NCPA patrolman who refuses bribes. That's their token of allegiance. Otherwise, why do you think East Castle bounties are higher than anyone else's?"
Angela was hunched over, vomiting her guts out, trembling as the horror sank in.
Li Pan shook his head. Come on, you're a police inspector. You can't lose it like a rookie. Puking at a crime scene? That's pathetic.
Still, even he admitted some of those clips were nauseating. He tried to console her:
"Actually, it's not all that dark anymore. Lately there aren't so many sashimi slices. Mostly it's just slit throats, chopped heads, a quick cremation.
Look, these days most NCPA officers take bribes. Family members aren't crops you can just harvest endlessly. If they wiped out every policeman's relatives, they'd run out of leverage. So in truth, promotions usually come down to nepotism, or how much cash a lackey brings in.
And don't worry—they wouldn't dare touch a 'police family of nine generations' like yours. If it weren't for your ancestors propping up justice in Night City for centuries, do you think East Castle would even have grown this strong?"
Angela bit her lip and turned away to vomit again.
Yo. Getting roasted like that, yet still keeping quiet? Maybe this police flower really does believe in order and justice.
Li Pan, of course, didn't believe a word. These patrolmen weren't executing "justice." They were opportunists, gauging the wind, doing favors for Night Konzern by culling East Castle cannon fodder.
After all, Takamagahara was in chaos, NCPA leadership was purged in waves, factions bribed and infiltrated by Akaten Dogs, East Castle, and a dozen others. The police headquarters had long lost control over the districts.
These precinct chiefs were indistinguishable from gang bosses—running their fiefdoms, extorting protection fees, and clashing for turf. Hardly guardians of order.
If the brass had even a shred of faith in them, the Security Bureau wouldn't have needed Cerberus at all.
Still, the patrolmen knew their limits. They only dared slaughter lackeys. The real bosses, the group heads, were off-limits. And East Castle had caught on—within two hours, reinforcements flooded in. They surrounded the hospital inside and out, guns raised, pushing the patrolmen and rubberneckers like Li Pan and Angela right back into the street.
The auxiliaries glared, but seeing the yakuza hauling in their wounded, they didn't dare escalate. They pulled back across the road, stuck in a standoff.
Li Pan lingered among the crowd. This is dragging out too long. Campbell should've been in the first batch. What the hell is Orange doing? And Eighteen?
"Boss," came Eighteen's whisper over comms, "target's surgery is complete. Orange has him. We're prepping to move, but the exits are packed with gangsters."
"Good. I'll stir the pot… Don't wait for me. Night Konzern is here!"
Indeed—the Konzern had arrived.
Grav-cars swooped overhead, triggered by Campbell's data registering in the NCPA system after surgery. A fireteam of corporate mercs roped down, two medics in tow. They didn't even wait for landing clearance, nor cared that they'd dropped into a hornet's nest of yakuza.
Private bodyguards of Konzern executives—bold, disciplined.
But wait… did Night Konzern not know Campbell's location before this? Was he operating covertly? Orange had said she saw him walk into the nightclub alone. No escorts? That bold?
No time to ponder. Li Pan had been crouched here precisely for this moment. He darted forward before the mercs could reach the door, weaving in a serpentine blur, shoulders smashing through the crowd.
"Where'd this bastard come from!"
Still raw from their obliterated HQ, the East Castle bruisers were seething for a fight. Li Pan barreled through and shoulder-checked their leader so hard the old man nearly went airborne.
"Damn punk! You looking to die!?"
They swung wild, and Li Pan answered with ferocity. A roar—"Cǎo ní mā!"—shook the lobby as he drove his silver spike straight through the group head's chest, True Dragon Break surging along the shaft. The man's organs blasted out his back in a crimson wave.
"Boss!" "Leader!" "Kill him!" Gunfire erupted instantly.
The match was lit.
Shots cracked, patrolmen opened up gleefully, and the mercs found themselves ambushed from all sides. They pulled back into the flowerbeds, firing disciplined bursts, while yakuza reinforcements stormed in vehicles, ramming police cars.
Night Konzern retaliated with swarms of bat-drones, strafing the street. East Castle unleashed their modded SMS mechs with rockets and flak guns. The battlefield escalated instantly into open war.
Private security firms, mercenary contractors, even freelance cyberpunks arrived, having all received bids from both sides. They picked whichever paycheck was bigger and dove in with heavy weapons.
Within minutes, the hospital was engulfed.
Amid the chaos, Li Pan carved through the lobby with his silver spike. Testing the True Dragon Break again, he realized the secret of the Isshin-ryū "sword aura": not empty hand techniques, but channeling power through an object. Any weapon, even a spike, amplified the destructive force. Armor, augments, ceramic plating—all pierced like tofu.
A single thrust left bodies collapsing like sacks of broken meat. Internal systems—backup hearts, pumps, failsafe bioware—shattered instantly.
No finesse needed. Raw power overwhelmed everything.
The drones buzzed after him like chicks behind a hen, hauling corpses for retinal scans. If the victims had money, they'd get surgery. Li Pan got his bounties. Everyone profited.
The mercs and police weren't blind. They recognized a high-level superhuman when they saw one. And who the hell fights with a spike? Clearly unstable. No one dared pick a fight—they let him work, focusing their fire on yakuza instead.
The gang's so-called defenses collapsed quickly. Despite their gear, they lacked training, discipline, or cohesion. Once encircled, they panicked, scattering like headless chickens.
The entire East Castle district fell the same way—numbers, weapons, ammo, cover. Worthless without leadership.
Even the embedded Akaten Dogs didn't intervene. Cerberus had already dropped in, mechs standing by, watching coldly. If Akaten stepped in, it would escalate to rebellion against the Security Council itself. No one wanted that.
Within moments, East Castle was routed.
And Li Pan checked his account—
Holy shit. A million?!
Eighteen kills. Wait—what? But then he saw the details: these weren't random lackeys. Each was double-titled: both underlings and group leaders. Their council positions meant bounties worth tens of thousands each. The old adviser alone was fifty grand. After taxes: 1,003,000 credits.
He laughed out loud. Feudal hierarchies really do pay! A mob of small fry keeps the true prizes conveniently grouped together. One strike, a fortune. Another step toward that 130 million cruiser fund.
Then it hit him.
Wait… why were so many senior cadres gathered at the hospital entrance?
Because someone even higher was inside.
Who was Campbell meeting with earlier? Whoever it was—worth at least fifty grand, maybe more.
Decision made, Li Pan spun and charged deeper into the hospital.
Bots clattered after him.
Night Konzern mercs shouted, panicked: "STOP! STOP! YAMETE—YAMETE!"
He ignored them, storming into the wards.
Inside, patients packed the beds—yakuza missing arms and legs, floating in med-pods.
Li Pan wanted to cull them all, but hospital property was off-limits. Too costly. He restrained himself, scanning ID chips for high-value bounties instead.
Then, at the VIP ward, just as a med-bot blocked his way, the door opened.
Out hobbled a one-eyed man on a cane, electronic eye glowing red.
Short, stocky, tattoos crawling up his neck—koi, dragons, asuras inked over cracked synth-skin and freshly stitched flesh. A crime boss if there ever was one.
Rescued straight from the nightclub blast, barely out of surgery, and already walking? No anesthetic?
As Li Pan tried to match him to the database, the cybernetic eye flared, cutting the link. The man raised his gaze.
They locked eyes.
Li Pan's sharp suit and blood-spattered armor made him look less like a manager and more like a predator. The white handkerchief in his breast pocket gleamed unnaturally clean.
Three seconds.
Clink. A silver spike slid from Li Pan's palm.
Good. Confirmed. The right kind of man.
Fight.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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