The smell of disinfectant in the hospital was a bit pungent.
Yuwen's movement as he pushed open the ward door was a little hurried.
Inside the ward, Kyoko was gently adjusting the drip speed for Grandma Nakajima, while Ito Shinji stood by the window, his wary gaze only softening slightly when he saw Yuwen.
"Grandma!" Yuwen quickly walked to the bedside, his voice filled with urgency.
He carefully examined her complexion, finding her only pale but otherwise well, which relieved him slightly.
"Little Yu..." Grandma Nakajima's face was a bit pale, but seeing Yuwen, she tried to force a comforting smile, her wrinkles smoothing out a bit: "Don't worry, these old bones of mine are still strong. I just accidentally fell. The doctor said it's nothing, I'll be fine after two days of rest."
She paused, her smile fading, replaced by a worried look in her eyes, "I just can't stop worrying about Chiharu... those people were chasing him... I don't know how he is now..."
Yuwen carefully observed Grandma's complexion, then looked inquiringly at Kyoko. Only after receiving her whispered confirmation that it was "just soft tissue contusion, nothing serious" did he let out a slight sigh of relief.
Yuwen didn't immediately respond, but first looked at Kyoko, questioning her with his eyes.
Kyoko nodded slightly and said in a low voice, "She's been checked. It's mainly soft tissue and lumbar contusions, requiring rest. Luckily, no bones were injured."
Hearing this, Yuwen's tense shoulders relaxed a bit.
He looked at Grandma again, leaned down, and gently held her wrinkled hands, his tone steady: "Grandma, please rest and recover. Don't worry about anything. Leave Chiharu's matter to me."
Grandma looked at Yuwen's calm expression, and her worried look eased. She gently patted his hand.
Yuwen turned to Ito Shinji, who nodded, and the two walked out of the ward.
Yuwen's gaze instantly sharpened: "What's the situation?"
Ito's speech was steady, his information clear: "Preliminary understanding is that it's people from Oni-Dwell. The cause of the conflict is unknown, but they crossed the line and caused trouble for that guy named Chiharu."
"Oni-Dwell..." Yuwen's expression was calm, but his fists were clenched: "I understand. Ito, you stay here and look after Grandma. I appreciate it."
"Don't worry, Senior Yuwen." Ito nodded.
Yuwen said no more, turning to leave, with Ito following close behind.
In the corridor, Ito was a little worried: "Senior Yuwen, Oni-Dwell High is one of The Three Heavens after all. Are you going alone like this? Why don't we call Katagiri, Mitsuhashi, and the others..."
Yuwen's steps didn't falter. He waved his hand and said confidently, "No need. It's not like we're going to war with them."
Murayama wouldn't go to war for a few thugs, would he?
Probably, right??
...At the entrance of Oni-Dwell, the atmosphere was completely different from Suzuran's oppressive silence or Housen's murderous aura; it was more like an unordered wilderness.
The rusty gate was wide open, the walls covered in wild graffiti, and groups of thugs, wearing various customized special attack uniforms, either squatted or stood, their eyes full of wildness and undisguised provocation.
When Yuwen, in his sharp black Suzuran special attack uniform, appeared at the street corner and walked straight towards the Oni-Dwell gate, it was like a drop of clear water falling into a boiling oil pot, instantly causing an uproar.
"Hey! Look over there!"
"Black... Is it a Suzuran Crow?"
"Damn it, a Suzuran punk dares to come to our Oni-Dwell territory alone? Is he looking for death?"
Several Oni-Dwell thugs who had been squatting at the entrance smoking immediately threw away their cigarette butts and surrounded Yuwen with ill-intent, like a pack of hyenas eyeing a lone prey.
A thug with an exaggerated pompadour and a toothpick in his mouth tilted his head, sizing up Yuwen with an extremely impolite gaze, and sneered:
"Hey, hey, Crow, are you lost? This is Oni-Dwell, not some playhouse! Get out of here before we get angry!"
Yuwen ignored the noise, his gaze calmly sweeping over the group, his voice clearly ringing out:
"I'm looking for Murayama Yoshiki."
"..."
A brief silence fell at the entrance, as if time had stopped for a second.
Then, an even more exaggerated burst of laughter, whistles, and vulgar insults erupted.
"Hahaha! Looking for Brother Murayama? Who do you think you are?"
"Does a Suzuran good-for-nothing deserve to see our boss?"
"Dressed so prim and proper, do you really think you're someone important?"
"I heard you Suzuran guys are into studying now? What's with the Full-Time Student Faction? Go back and hit the books, pretty boy!"
A burly man with a Hannya demon mask tattoo on his arm pushed his companions aside and walked up to Yuwen, almost nose to nose. The heavy smell of smoke assailed Yuwen as the man sneered:
"Stupid Crow, are you deaf? I told you to get lost, didn't you understand? Do I need Grandpa to teach you Oni-Dwell's rules with his fists?"
As he spoke, his massive fist, like a washbasin, swung towards Yuwen's face with a whoosh!
Yuwen didn't even look him in the eye; he just tilted his head slightly, and the seemingly fierce punch grazed his temple by mere millimeters.
At the same time, his right hand, like an iron clamp, gripped the man's arm, pulling, twisting, and shaking it in one fluid motion!
"Crack!" A bone-chilling snap!
"Aow—!" The tattooed strongman let out a pig-like scream, his massive body propelled by a clever force. He was swung half a circle in the air like a rag doll, then slammed heavily onto the concrete ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. He curled up, clutching his clearly unnaturally bent arm, screaming in agony, instantly losing his combat ability.
"It seems," Yuwen sighed softly, "Suzuran's reputation isn't loud enough."
This was like lighting the fuse of a powder keg!
"Damn it! Get him!"
"All together! Cripple this bastard!"
Seven or eight Oni-Dwell thugs around him, blood rushing to their heads, roared and lunged simultaneously from all directions!
Fists and feet flew, raising a malevolent wind!
Yuwen's eyes narrowed; he didn't retreat but advanced!
His movements were concise, efficient, and swift, like a tiger entering a flock of sheep!
Side-step, advance, elbow strike!
A thug attempting a tackle was hit in the ribs, his face instantly turning purple, and he knelt on the ground, vomiting.
Lowering his body, leg sweep, palm push!
Two guys who simultaneously threw punches: one was swept down, the other was hit in the chest with a palm, flying backward to hit the wall, then slumping down.
Block, grapple, over-the-shoulder throw!
Another guy who charged forward spun around before being slammed heavily onto a companion, both of them passing out.
His movements were without any frills; every move was concise, precise, and ruthless, striking at vital points with terrifying efficiency.
The Suzuran special attack uniform weaved through the crowd, and wherever he went, the Oni-Dwell thugs fell to the ground screaming, like stalks of wheat being cut down.
The entire process took only a dozen seconds. The group of thugs, who had been arrogant moments before, were now left to groan in pain on the ground.
Yuwen stood still, his breathing not even quickened; it wasn't even a warm-up.
He flexed his wrist, his gaze coldly sweeping over his opponents struggling in pain on the ground, finally looking towards Oni-Dwell.
Yuwen's eyes finally showed a hint of change; it wasn't tension, but... disappointment.
He had expected Oni-Dwell, one of The Three Heavens, to provide some decent pressure, but these guys in front of him were slow, their footwork unsteady, their coordination completely disorganized. They were aggressive but full of flaws, not even comparable to ordinary members of Housen, at most slightly stronger than Kaiki-level small fry.
He lifted his foot and stepped on the back of an Oni-Dwell thug trying to get up, pinning him back to the ground. His voice was not loud, but it clearly carried across the silent entrance and further beyond:
"Now, can I ask Murayama to come out?"
"Or," he paused, his tone flat but with a sense of pressure, "do I need to go in myself and 'invite' him out?"
"Bastard—!!"
"Kill him! Avenge our brothers!!"
"That Suzuran bastard is too arrogant!!"
Yuwen's almost humiliating stance and cold words were like pouring a ladle of cold water into a boiling oil pot, completely igniting Oni-Dwell's ferocity!
More Oni-Dwell thugs, who had been watching from a distance or rushing out of the training building upon hearing the commotion, saw their companions sprawled on the ground at the entrance and the black figure standing proudly. Their eyes instantly turned red!
Roars and shouts erupted from all directions, like a disturbed pack of wolves!
Dense figures, wearing various customized black special attack uniforms, surged out from the depths of Oni-Dwell like a black tide bursting through a dam!
Their numbers far exceeded the previous group, at least twenty or thirty, and more were constantly gathering from every corner!
Oni-Dwell's renown came from its vast numbers and its fearlessness in brawls!
Now, this sleeping beast was thoroughly enraged!
Facing the surging crowd, Yuwen did not retreat; instead, a burning light ignited in his eyes.
He gently twisted his neck, his joints making faint cracking sounds, and a nearly wild smile curved his lips.
"Now this is getting interesting..."
At the entrance of Oni-Dwell, there was a scene of utter chaos.
Groans echoed, and dozens of Oni-Dwell thugs lay scattered on the ground, temporarily incapacitated.
In the center of the area, Yuwen was panting slightly, his black special attack uniform stained with dust and a few bloodstains, his breathing a bit rapid, and several spots on his body ached faintly.
The individual strength of these Oni-Dwell thugs was indeed not strong, but their reckless ferocity and large numbers had consumed a lot of his physical strength.
Just then, an unusually wild and almost tangible oppressive sensation arrived!
The Oni-Dwell thugs who had been wailing earlier seemed to find their backbone, struggling to get up.
A man appeared, wearing a loose special attack uniform, with disheveled hair, and a look in his eyes that was both innocent and extremely dangerous in its wildness.
He slowly walked over, surrounded by a group of clearly much stronger thugs.
The newcomer was none other than the pinnacle of Oni-Dwell—Murayama Yoshiki!
He glanced at his subordinates rolling on the ground, and instead of anger, he seemed to find something interesting, a crazed grin spreading across his lips, his gaze finally settling on Yuwen, the only one standing.
Yuwen took a deep breath, calmed his breathing, and said, "Murayama..."
Murayama Yoshiki interrupted him directly, letting out a deep, excited laugh:
"Heh... hehehe... Suzuran's crow? Interesting! Truly interesting! You dared to kick Oni-Dwell's door alone and took down so many of my useless little brothers? You, little crow... you've got a lot of guts!"
The Oni-Dwell executives behind him all showed sinister smiles, looking at Yuwen as if he were a dead man.
The thugs on the ground also struggled to let out cheers of encouragement.
Yuwen tried to explain his purpose: "Your Oni-Dwell people crossed the line, they..."
"Let's fight!" Murayama didn't give him a chance to finish. He excitedly jumped forward, gesticulating wildly, like a child who had discovered a new toy:
"This is how it should be! The boring days are finally over!"
He spread his arms, as if embracing the coming chaos, his voice full of anticipation:
"This is Oni-Dwell's rule!"
Yuwen patiently tried again: "Please, let me finish what I'm saying..."
Murayama Yoshiki was completely immersed in his own world:
"Go back and tell that guy Serizawa Tamao! Tell him to get ready! The all-out war between Oni-Dwell and Suzuran—I've been looking forward to it for a long time! Haha!"
He seemed to have decided that Yuwen was merely a messenger delivering a challenge.
Yuwen felt a wave of helplessness; this guy simply wouldn't listen:
"Can you please listen to me..."
Murayama Yoshiki's eyes lit up, as if he had thought of another possibility:
"Oh? Or... that new guy, Takiya Genji, can come too! I heard he's pretty strong? Let him come! I can't wait!"
He rubbed his fists together, completely disregarding Yuwen in front of him.
Yuwen was utterly speechless.
He closed his mouth, looking at this "pinnacle" in front of him, completely immersed in his own world, like an over-energetic, provocative chihuahua.
He narrowed his eyes, 'The current Murayama is just a pugnacious child, even worse than Genji's stubborn mule personality... Genji at least listens to reason and people.'
But this Murayama fellow... he completely lived in his own world and didn't take anyone seriously.
Originally, he just wanted to find the specific members who had harmed the old woman, but now... Yuwen changed his mind.
He was going to make this arrogant, conceited brat personally experience what true despair was!
Yuwen no longer tried to explain, but simply said to Murayama in a calm voice:
"Murayama, I hope you won't pull out some strange transformation device to beg for forgiveness then."
Murayama Yoshiki was stunned for a moment, then burst into even more exaggerated laughter:
"Hahaha! Forgiveness? Go back and deliver the message quickly, little crow! Hahaha! Interesting! Too interesting! I'll wait! I want to see how you'll make me beg for forgiveness!" He laughed, bending over backward, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world.
Murayama waved his hand, as if shooing away an insignificant fly, his gaze already sweeping past Yuwen, fervently directed towards Suzuran.
It was filled with anticipation for a great battle.
As for the slightly disheveled Suzuran member in front of him, he had completely disregarded him.
Yuwen said no more, gave Murayama a deep look, then turned and left the entrance of Oni-Dwell, treading on the groans all around.
The silhouette of his black special attack uniform stretched long in the setting sun.
Murayama Yoshiki was full of laughter, his eyes burning with expectation as he gazed towards Suzuran, his face flushed with excitement for the impending great battle.
As for the "little crow" who had just left after uttering a few harsh words, he didn't take him seriously at all, considering him an insignificant interlude.
What he didn't know was that the "little crow" he had just treated with disdain had already made up his mind to make him truly experience what overwhelming despair felt like.
---
A few days later, a distinctive figure arrived at Oni-Dwell.
He wore a neat Oni-Dwell special attack uniform and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on his nose, completely out of place in the rough and chaotic surroundings.
He looked up, pushed his glasses, and his calm gaze behind the lenses swept over the weather-beaten, graffiti-covered "Oni-Dwell" sign, then turned inwards.
In the courtyard, several groups of thugs in strangely modified special attack uniforms were pushing, yelling, and even wrestling with each other as if no one else was around, the dull thuds of fists on flesh and excited roars rising and falling.
Facing this chaos, which would make ordinary people tremble, a subtle curve slowly formed at the corner of his mouth.
It wasn't fear, nor was it disgust; rather, it was more like... a playful smile at seeing an interesting experimental ground.
"Heh..." An almost inaudible chuckle escaped his lips.
He took a step, entering this den of trouble with a steady stride.
Compared to the figures running and shouting around him, he appeared overly composed, as if he wasn't walking into a thug's lair but rather visiting a noisy zoo.
Soon, his appearance attracted attention.
"Hey! You, kid! What are you looking at!" A tall, bald man with a ferocious tattoo on his neck blocked his path, his eyes fierce, followed by several equally ill-intentioned companions:
"New here? Don't you know the rules? You're supposed to kneel and greet your seniors!"
He stopped, looked up, and through his glasses, he looked at the other person, his tone so gentle it was almost innocent:
"Rules? I apologize, I just transferred here and am not yet clear. Could I trouble you, senior... to explain them a little?"
His refined, even somewhat bookish demeanor, made the bald man and his companions behind him freeze for a moment, then burst into louder laughter.
"Explain? I'll explain it to you with my fists!" The bald man sneered, his fist, as big as a casserole, swung towards his face with a whoosh, clearly intending to give this "good student" who didn't know his place a lesson he'd never forget.
Many people nearby stopped fighting, grinning and preparing to watch the show, as if they had already envisioned the spectacle of this bespectacled guy being beaten black and blue and crying for his mother.
However, in the next instant, everyone's smiles froze on their faces.
Just a moment before the fist was about to touch the glasses.
No one saw how he moved, only that his right hand had already risen at some point, precisely gripping the bald man's incoming wrist.
Those seemingly slender fingers were like iron pincers, preventing the bald man's thick arm from advancing another inch, and cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead from the pain.
He tilted his head slightly, the lenses reflecting a cold light, his smile still gentle, but with an added chill that made people's hearts turn cold:
"Senior," his voice was not loud, but it clearly echoed through the suddenly quiet courtyard:
"Your 'explanation'... seems to lack sufficient force. Do I need to... demonstrate the true 'Oni-Dwell rule'?"
This is a forgotten land, where chaos and disorder are the only rules.
Even the well-dressed bigwigs in Tokyo tacitly averted their gaze from this scorched earth, leaving it to its own devices.
Like Toarushi City, it is another notorious and violent totem in the Kanto region.
In this quagmire, a legendary organization called MUGEN once emerged.
With their overwhelming power, they once brought a brief but rigid "order" to this area.
However, even under MUGEN's rule, a pair of brothers never bowed their heads.
Amamiya Masaki and Amamiya Hiroto, with only the strength of the two brothers, stood against the massive MUGEN as equals, sharing the spoils.
But this showdown ultimately did not reach a conclusion.
MUGEN suddenly disintegrated due to internal changes, and the Amamiya brothers also disappeared, leaving behind a power vacuum and shattered legends.
The old order collapsed, and new forces sprouted from the ruins.
Their names form a new legend:
S - Sannoh Rengokai
Founded by two core members of the former legendary organization MUGEN—Cobra and Yamato.
They established their headquarters on Sannoh Street, with the new belief of "protecting the peace of this street," attempting to maintain order in a way different from MUGEN.
W - White Rascals
Led by their leader Rocky, this group of members, dressed in their iconic white, took it upon themselves to protect vulnerable women.
Headquartered on Ebisu Street, their morally ambiguous style of action earned them the name "White Devils of Temptation."
O - Oni-Dwell
This is a special violent group mainly composed of repeat students; its leader, Murayama Yoshiki, is the embodiment of chaos.
Factions are rampant within the organization, and endless internal strife and the mad pursuit of the title of "strongest" are the unchanging themes of Oni-Dwell.
R - RUDE BOYS
Leader Smoky, and his companions who roam the streets, regard "protecting the residents of Nameless Street" as their highest mission.
They are a team proficient in parkour and street tactics, the guardians of the residents of Nameless Street in the dark of night.
D - Daruma Ikka (The Destroyers of Revenge)
Led by Hyuga Kiku, all members wear red clothing and Daruma masks.
They are entrenched in Daruma Pass, believing in the oldest law, "an eye for an eye, tenfold repayment," and are the most terrifying revenge group in the SWORD area, known as "The Destroyers of Revenge."
Combining the first letters of these five major organizations—W, S, O, R, D—forms SWORD.
This area is also named the SWORD area because of this.
And the young people struggling to survive and shedding their blood in this land are called—G-SWORD.
Sannoh Street · Yamato Auto Shop.
The air was mixed with the smell of oil, rubber, and metal.
A tall, muscular man, strikingly similar in appearance to Katagiri Satoshi, was hunched over the engine of an old motorcycle, working skillfully and intently, fine beads of sweat beading on his forehead.
It was Yamato, the son of the auto shop owner and a core member of Sannoh Rengokai.
The shop was originally filled only with the clinking of tools and the faint hum of the engine, but suddenly, a crisp and rhythmic sound of high heels broke the silence.
Five graceful figures entered in a line, breaking the dullness of the repair shop.
Leading them was a charming, black-clad young woman, with sharp eyes and a calm gait, exuding an aura of unspoken authority.
Behind her closely followed four young women, each with a hot figure and beautiful face, wearing daring black inner wear and matching long red coats, with the flamboyant words "Bishoujo Rumble Gang" emblazoned on their backs.
Their appearance was like a scorching storm bursting into this masculine space.
This was another living legend of the SWORD area—the all-female biker gang "Bishoujo Rumble Gang."
It is rumored that their strength is unfathomable, simply because in this violent zone, no one has ever dared to truly offend their divine power, so the legend remains just a legend.
The black-clad young woman leading the group, Asahina Hisako, scanned the shop and finally looked at her son, speaking faintly:
"Hard work."
The four members behind her—Third Generation President Junko, Vice President Asuka, and cadres "Twin Towers" Oshiage and Shiba—immediately responded in unison, their voices clear and strong:
"It's nothing!"
This scene made Yamato lift his head from the engine hood, wiping his hands with the towel draped around his neck, his brows habitually furrowed, his tone carrying a hint of everyday impatience:
"Old hag, what's for dinner?"
Asahina Hisako immediately glared, that bit of authority instantly diluted by the mother-son bickering:
"Who's an old hag! When you see me, all you know is to ask about food, food, food?"
Yamato snorted, continuing to wipe the oil from his tools:
"What did you say? Who is it that keeps exploiting her son's cheap labor? I didn't overcharge you a single cent for this car repair."
"So noisy!" Hisako crossed her arms, "With that attitude, you and your brother won't have dinner tonight!"
Yamato stopped, with an "here we go again" expression: "Tsk, lost money at pachinko again and taking it out on us?"
"Shut—up—!" Hisako's sore spot was hit, and her volume increased.
"Old hag!" Yamato retorted just as impolitely.
At this moment, Bishoujo Rumble Gang's current President Junko couldn't stand it anymore, stepping forward, her pretty face frosty, upholding her senior's authority:
"Hey! Yamato! How dare you speak to Hisako-senpai like that! It's too rude!"
Vice President Asuka also immediately chimed in, pointing at Yamato:
"Exactly! You brat! How can you call your own mother an old hag! What a joke!"
Behind them, Oshiage and Shiba, like a repeating machine, shouted in unison, full of momentum: "What—a—joke!"
Being glared at by four aggressive "Bishoujo Rumble Gang" elite members simultaneously, even Yamato felt an invisible pressure.
He looked at his mother, who had an "I have backup" expression, then at the four formidable women in front of him, and finally sighed helplessly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, his tone softening:
"Hai... hai... I know, I was wrong, isn't that enough?"
He mumbled softly, re-entering behind the engine hood, as if that was his safe zone.
This small family dispute, sparked by dinner, temporarily concluded with the Sannoh Rengokai tough guy's "strategic compromise."
Only the sound of tools remained in the shop, along with the faint, incongruous scent of perfume from the women, clashing with the smell of engine oil.
Yamato watched his mother's retreating back as she went upstairs, and the four "Bishoujo Rumble Gang" elites who showed no intention of leaving, mumbling helplessly in a voice only he could hear:
"Damn it, women are all like this, so annoying..."
Asahina Hisako disappeared at the stairwell, leaving a group of young people downstairs.
Third Generation President Junko seemingly casually surveyed the cluttered repair shop, but her gaze always drifted unconsciously towards the tall figure hunched over the motorcycle engine.
When she found an angle where she could see Yamato's focused profile and the taut muscles of his arms, her eyes unconsciously revealed a hint of infatuated admiration, unbefitting her status as President.
Yamato, who was tightening a screw, keenly felt a gaze different from the others. He stopped, suddenly looked up, and precisely caught Junko's gaze before she could fully retract it.
Junko's heart skipped a beat, and her face instantly regained the calm and authority of the Bishoujo Rumble Gang's leader, even carrying a hint of annoyance at being discovered, as if it was Yamato who had lost his composure, not her.
Yamato frowned and, in an ill-tempered manner, directly ordered them to leave: "Seriously, why don't you guys just scram!"
Junko immediately found an excuse to retort, puffing out her chest and pointing to the shop entrance with her chin:
"What did you say? By the way, we have a customer."
Everyone's gaze turned to the entrance, where a timid-looking young man stood. It was Chiharu.
Yamato wiped his hands, his tone still slightly impatient, but he maintained basic politeness towards a customer:
"Sorry, if you need a motorcycle repaired, we're closed for today. Please come back another time."
Chiharu quickly stepped forward, his voice filled with gratitude and urgency: "Um... do you remember me?"
Yamato was stunned for a moment, carefully looking at the other's face, but he had no impression: "Huh?"
Chiharu reminded him: "A few days ago, in an alley nearby, you saved me. I was surrounded by a few people..."
Yamato thought back and seemed to have a vague impression: "Ah... I think I remember something like that."
Chiharu, however, bowed very solemnly: "I've been looking for you these past few days! Thank you so much for that time!"
Yamato saw this posture and then glanced at the Bishoujo Rumble Gang girls next to him, who had their ears perked and eyes shining, and immediately felt a headache.
He quickly stepped forward, pulled Chiharu to the corner of the repair shop, and lowered his voice: "Hey, hey, don't say any more, come over here."
However, Asuka, Oshiage, and Shiba had already crept closer like cats smelling fish, trying to eavesdrop.
Although Junko remained in place, her attention was completely drawn to them.
Chiharu didn't realize Yamato's embarrassment and continued to explain:
"I just transferred to Oni-Dwell and don't know anything... I didn't know that fighting to determine strength was their daily game there. That person, he seemed to be Furuya, the second-in-command of Oni-Dwell... After that, I became their target."
Asuka, with her arms crossed and a "I knew it" expression, interjected:
"Speaking of Oni-Dwell, their underhanded methods are really something, aren't they?"
Oshiage and Shiba immediately echoed in unison, their voices filled with disdain: "They are!"
Asuka continued her commentary, her voice neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for the two in the corner to hear:
"They're all guys in their twenties still stuck in school, absolutely scummy."
Chiharu seemed to have found a kindred spirit and turned to Yamato, his tone even more dejected:
"Yes... After you saved me that time, they thought I had found outside help, and the situation got even worse... I've been completely targeted, and I feel like I can't stay in Oni-Dwell anymore."
Upon hearing this, Yamato's brows furrowed even tighter, and he couldn't help but complain: "What? I saved you, and the situation got worse? Is that my fault now?"
Oshiage and Shiba immediately acted like righteous judges, pointing at Yamato and speaking in unison:
"Then you should take responsibility!"
"That's right! It's because you interfered that it turned out this way!"
Chiharu seemed to grasp at a lifeline, looking at Yamato with expectant eyes:
"So... so, can I join Sannoh Rengokai?"
Yamato looked at the source of the trouble in front of him, and then felt the four burning gazes behind him, eager for a show. He felt his head swell and couldn't help but press his temples.
Junko spoke at the opportune moment, a hint of teasing in her voice:
"See, Yamato, you messed up." She seemed quite pleased to see Yamato in such a predicament.
Asuka, Oshiage, and Shiba immediately joined in like a chorus, their voices full of schadenfreude:
"You—messed—up—didn't—you!"
"He messed up!"
Yamato, annoyed by their noise, finally erupted, turning to yell at the four girls:
"Seriously, you guys! You've heard everything, can you hurry up and go home now! This isn't a girls' tea party!"
The repair shop was filled with Yamato's frustration, Chiharu's helplessness, and the cheerful atmosphere of the four Bishoujo Rumble Gang girls enjoying the drama, creating a chaotic scene.
Yamato ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, looking at Chiharu's face, which was etched with helplessness.
The rules of the SWORD area were like an invisible barbed wire, where one pull affected the whole body.
He sighed, his voice heavy but firm:
"No matter what, you are still nominally a member of Oni-Dwell. Listen, kid, SWORD has its rules, it's not a game of make-believe. If we just take in someone from the opposing side, it's like tearing off the mask, and once the balance is broken..."
He cast his gaze out the window to the street, as if he could see the potential bloodshed:
"At that point, it won't just be your problem, but the entire area will be dragged into a free-for-all. Do you understand?"
The light in Chiharu's eyes dimmed. He lowered his head, his shoulders slumped, and his voice was weak: "I... I understand."
He turned, dragging his heavy steps, preparing to leave this temporary haven that had given him hope, his back appearing particularly forlorn.
Yamato watched that thin back gradually move towards the door, as if he saw a glimpse of his own past, confused self.
He clicked his tongue, the image of Cobra's expression if he knew about this, surely saying "Don't meddle," flashed through his mind, but another voice—a promise of "protection"—was louder.
He slammed his fist on the nearby toolbox with a loud clang.
"Tch! Such a hassle!" He growled, as if arguing with himself, then looked up and shouted at Chiharu, who was almost out the door, "Hey! Stop!"
Chiharu suddenly stopped, turning around in disbelief.
Yamato's face was full of resignation, but he still grabbed the jacket draped over a chair: "Alright, alright! I get it! Come with me."
Chiharu's eyes instantly widened with surprise and joy. He quickly ran back and bowed a perfect ninety degrees:
"Th-thank you very much! Big Brother Yamato!"
Yamato waved his hand casually, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, and a not-so-gentle but reliably reassuring curve appeared at the corner of his mouth:
"Don't thank me too soon. But listen, kid—" His tone became serious, his gaze fixed on Chiharu like a torch.
"Just because you've come to Sannoh Rengokai doesn't mean all your problems will disappear automatically. The Oni-Dwell people won't let you off just because you've changed locations."
He took a step closer and poked Chiharu's chest with his finger, not lightly:
"Always relying on others will never truly solve problems! Your life is your own! It's in your own hands! If you want to change your situation, you have to clench your own fists!"
Yamato's voice was strong and resonant, echoing through the repair shop:
"Believe in yourself, and then, gather your courage and fight! Just running away and seeking shelter won't allow you to survive in SWORD!"
Chiharu stared at Yamato, his eyes a little red, but this time not from fear, but because something within him had been ignited.
He nodded vigorously, clenching his fists: "Yes! I understand!"
Yamato patted his shoulder and walked out of the shop first: "Come on, I'll take you to meet those guys. As for whether you'll be accepted, that depends on your own resolve."
Chiharu took a deep breath, straightened his back, and followed Yamato's steps, moving towards an unknown but no longer so terrifying future.
Sannoh Street · ITOKAN Restaurant
The afternoon sun streamed through the restaurant's glass windows, illuminating the fine dust particles in the air.
The originally relaxed atmosphere suddenly froze due to a single sentence from Yamato.
"Although it's a bit sudden," Yamato's voice broke the silence. He patted Chiharu, who seemed a bit uneasy beside him. "I plan to have him join us."
Everyone's gaze instantly focused on Chiharu, then shifted to the person sitting opposite Yamato.
The leader of the Sannoh Rengokai in the SWORD area, Cobra.
He had striking short blonde hair and a tall, upright figure. Just sitting there casually, he exuded an icy aura that warned others to keep their distance.
His sharp eyes, at this moment, calmly observed Yamato and Chiharu, like a frozen winter lake, making it impossible to guess his emotions or feel any warmth.
Beside him sat the reliable cadre Atan, and Atetsu, who had a baby face but sported dreadlocks, along with several other Sannoh members.
After a brief silence, the restaurant erupted into a commotion.
"Who is this kid?"
"Never seen him before, he's not from our district, is he?"
"Who knows? Where did Big Brother Yamato find him?"
Amidst the chatter, the cadre Atetsu squinted, carefully scrutinized Chiharu, and then suddenly spoke with a confident tone: "He… he's from Oni-Dwell, isn't he?"
This statement was like a stone thrown into calm water, instantly stirring up even greater waves.
"What? Someone from Oni-Dwell?"
"Are you kidding me! How can we let someone from that place join our Sannoh!"
"Big Brother Yamato, have you lost your mind?!"
The crowd was agitated, and the sounds of questioning and opposition almost lifted the roof.
"Everyone, stop arguing! Quiet down!"
A clear but undeniably authoritative female voice rang out.
Everyone looked over, only to see the proprietress, Naomi, emerging from the kitchen with a tray.
Naomi (Actress: Shuka Fujii)
She had delicate features and a tall figure. A simple T-shirt and work pants, worn by her, perfectly balanced feminine gentleness with street-style coolness.
She simply stood there, her gaze calmly sweeping across the room. The previously noisy members immediately quieted down as if a mute button had been pressed, but the dissatisfaction in their eyes had not faded.
The restaurant fell silent again.
Cobra's gaze never left Yamato and Chiharu. He remained silent, his fingertips unconsciously tapping lightly on the tabletop.
Atetsu glanced at Cobra's expression, understood the unspoken message, and stood up. He walked over to Chiharu, his tone not overly polite but restrained:
"Hey, kid, you, come with me for a moment."
Chiharu looked at Yamato somewhat helplessly. Only after Yamato nodded in assent did he nervously follow Atetsu out of the restaurant.
With the gentle chime of the doorbell, only the core members of Sannoh remained in the restaurant.
Cobra finally spoke, his voice low and cold, leaving no room for negotiation: "Yamato, this won't work."
"Then are you going to just let me stand by and do nothing?!"
Yamato abruptly stood up, his hands on the table, leaning forward, his voice agitated:
"That kid couldn't stay in Oni-Dwell! I saved him, which only made his situation worse!"
Atan, standing nearby, tried to mediate, his tone filled with worry:
"Yamato, we don't mean that we don't want to help. But you need to think carefully. If Oni-Dwell finds out we've taken in one of their people, they'll definitely use it as an excuse to cause trouble and blow things out of proportion!"
Cobra slowly stood up. His movements were not fast, but they carried an invisible pressure.
He walked in front of Yamato, his golden bangs casting a shadow that obscured part of his eyes, but the cold certainty was crystal clear:
"Oni-Dwell? Heh," he let out a very slight scoff, filled with disdain for the so-called "Oni-Dwell top-tier thugs":
"Just a bunch of thugs, we can take them out anytime."
His tone was calm but contained absolute confidence and power, the kind of ease that came from once standing at the pinnacle of the legendary organization MUGEN.
However, his tone immediately shifted, becoming even colder and harder:
"But this matter has nothing to do with Sannoh." He looked directly into Yamato's eyes, saying each word distinctly: "It's you, Yamato, your own problem."
With that, Cobra did not linger. He walked past Yamato, who was frozen in place, and went straight out the restaurant door, leaving behind a resolute figure.
Yamato looked in the direction Cobra had left, his fists clenched tightly, knuckles white, his face filled with unwillingness and struggle... Outside the restaurant, Atetsu listened to Chiharu's broken narration, roughly understanding the whole story.
He irritably scratched his dreadlocks, complaining to the air:
"What the hell, Big Brother Yamato... why is he still so nosy, always getting himself into trouble."
Just then, Naomi gently pushed the door open and stepped out.
Her gentle gaze fell on Chiharu, who had his head bowed. Her voice was as soothing as a spring breeze, yet carried a heavy weight:
"Perhaps you don't know." She said softly, "The balance maintained between the five organizations in the current SWORD area is reaching its limit."
She looked out at the seemingly calm Sannoh Street, a hint of subtle worry in her eyes:
"This fragile balance could easily be completely shattered by one seemingly insignificant small matter..."
She turned back, looking at Chiharu, and also seemed to be explaining to Atetsu nearby: "Cobra... he's not cruel. He just doesn't want this street, doesn't want the people around him, to pay a bloody price again because of meaningless disputes. He cares about this place more than anyone."
Chiharu listened to Naomi's gentle yet heavy words, looking at the deep concern in her eyes, and lowered his head even further.
He had originally thought he found a glimmer of hope, but now he felt as if he was enveloped by a greater shadow named "reality."
He understood how small his predicament was in the face of the enormous conflicts in this area, yet it could also become the fuse that ignites everything.
At the same time — Sannoh Street entrance.
The peaceful Sannoh Street afternoon was shattered by a chaotic and heavy sound of footsteps.
A group of figures, exuding undisguised arrogance, uniformly dressed in customized black tokkofuku (attack uniforms) with the prominent kanji for "Oni-Dwell" embroidered on their collars, surged into the street like an approaching dark cloud.
The leader's hair was disheveled, but his eyes shone terrifyingly, and a wild smile, as if it could crack at any moment, hung at the corner of his mouth.
It was Murayama Yoshiki, one of The Three Heavens and the top of Oni-Dwell!
Beside him followed the tall and strong cadre Furuya Hideto, with a grim expression, and Seki Kotaro, who was corpulent but exuded a dangerous, restless aura.
Behind them, a group of fierce-eyed, eager Oni-Dwell elite thugs surrounded them.
Just by standing there, this group seemed to make the surrounding air thick and oppressive, carrying a unique, suffocating aura mixed with sweat, smoke, and violent impulses.
An Oni-Dwell thug deliberately knocked over a decorative item placed outside a roadside shop, creating a harsh shattering sound.
The shop owner ran out, furious, and yelled:
"Hey! What are you doing?!"
All the thugs stopped in unison, their cold gazes instantly focusing on the owner.
Furuya Hideto took heavy steps and walked in front of the owner, looking down at him, his voice low:
"Is there a Sannoh Rengokai meeting place nearby?"
The owner defiantly retorted: "Who knows!"
Furuya Hideto said nothing, then suddenly reached out and easily lifted the owner completely off the ground like a small chicken.
With his feet off the ground, the owner looked at Furuya's unmoving eyes and bulging muscles. He maintained a calm expression, but quickly and honestly replied:
"It's just around the corner ahead, in the restaurant!"
Murayama smiled with satisfaction, then led the Oni-Dwell group away.
Only after those menacing figures had left did the owner suddenly let out a breath of relief, his legs weakening, almost making him sit on the ground. Cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead, his face pale, no longer able to maintain his composure.
Inside ITOKAN Restaurant, the atmosphere was already tense.
Atan hurried in, his voice urgent:
"This is bad! The Oni-Dwell people are here! How did they find this place?"
Chiharu abruptly stood up, a look of determination on his face:
"They're looking for me! I'll just go see them! I can't drag everyone down!"
"What nonsense are you talking about!" Yamato sharply cut him off. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, his eyes sharp: "I brought him back, and this started because of me. I'll deal with my own problems."
"But..." Chiharu still wanted to argue.
"No buts!" Yamato's tone was unyielding as he walked towards the door first.
Atan and Atetsu followed without hesitation, and several other Sannoh members also stood up, following them out with determined eyes.
As they stepped out of the restaurant door, they saw the Oni-Dwell crowd surrounding them like a black tide, blocking their path.
Furuya Hideto's sharp gaze instantly locked onto Yamato, and he said in a low voice:
"Big Brother Murayama, it's them."
Seki Kotaro, nearby, was already unable to contain his excitement. His corpulent body restlessly paced back and forth, his fists constantly pounding against each other, emitting muffled thuds, and he let out meaningless growls.
The other Oni-Dwell thugs were like hungry wolves eyeing their prey, glaring menacingly. The air was thick with tension.
Yamato, Atan, Atetsu, and the Sannoh members behind them showed no fear, glaring back with equally strong eyes.
In an instant, the scene was on a knife's edge, as if a single spark could ignite the entire place!
At this moment, Murayama Yoshiki slowly walked out.
He first glanced at Furuya Hideto, who was blocking his way, and casually tilted his head, signaling him to step back.
Although Furuya's expression was displeased, he still stepped back half a pace as instructed.
Murayama then looked at Seki Kotaro, who was almost out of control with excitement, and calmly spoke, "Hey."
With just one word, Seki Kotaro, who had been like a raging bull, instantly seemed to have been put on pause, abruptly lowered his head, restrained all his movements, and obediently retreated behind Murayama; only his heavy breathing still showed his suppressed excitement.
Only then did Murayama put on his characteristic, somewhat maniacal smile again and slowly walked up to Yamato.
"A while ago, it seems our people received your 'care,' didn't they?"
Murayama's voice carried a twisted pleasure, his hand even trembled slightly from anticipation, but he still tried to maintain a facade of rationality:
"There's a kid named Chiharu, he's with you guys, right?"
Yamato met his gaze, not backing down at all:
"So what if he is?"
Murayama's smile widened, almost reaching his ears: "Then hurry up and hand him over."
"I'm not going to hand him over to you guys." Yamato's answer was decisive.
"Hmph!" The Oni-Dwell thugs instantly took a step forward, letting out threatening growls, eager for a fight.
The Sannoh Rengokai executives and members immediately stepped up, Atan and Furuya almost nose to nose, Atetsu and Seki Kotaro glaring at each other, muscles tensed, a conflict about to erupt!
However, Murayama, in this extremely tense atmosphere, let out an even happier, almost maniacal laugh:
"Hahahahaha—!"
He tried to control his laughter, clapped his hands, but his eyes became dangerous:
"Sannoh Rengokai, you've interfered in Oni-Dwell's family matters. I can understand it that way, right?"
"No," Yamato said in a deep voice, "This has nothing to do with Sannoh Rengokai!"
Beside him, Furuya Hideto's massive body pressed down on Atan, growling:
"Do you think you can beat me?!"
Atan didn't reply, only stared back with an unyielding, fierce gaze, the veins on his forehead subtly visible.
On the other side, Seki Kotaro bared his teeth at Atetsu:
"Come on! Kid!"
Atetsu retorted without politeness: "What are you saying! You stinky fatty!"
Yamato took another step forward, almost face to face with Murayama, his voice steady but with an undeniable force:
"This is my own business."
Instantly, the scene was like a fully drawn bowstring, on the verge of snapping!
"Hey, hey…" Murayama's smile finally disappeared, replaced by an annoyance at having his fun disturbed: "I'm not here to watch you guys act out brotherly affection."
He stared at Yamato, his tone turning cold: "Then it's not Sannoh Rengokai's business anymore?"
"If you want to fight, fight me alone," Yamato said, enunciating each word.
Murayama looked at Yamato's serious, almost self-sacrificing expression and instantly found it dull.
Like a deflated ball, he let out an exaggerated sigh, the madness on his face fading, leaving only boredom.
"Forget it…" Murayama waved his hand dismissively, turning around:
"I'll be back."
These words stunned everyone on both sides.
On the Oni-Dwell side, Furuya Hideto and Seki Kotaro could hardly believe their ears.
Seki Kotaro even shouted excitedly:
"Are we just letting it go?! Big Brother Murayama! We have so many people!"
Murayama strolled over to the corpulent Seki Kotaro, placing one hand seemingly casually on his shoulder, but the tightening grip of his five fingers made Seki Kotaro's thick shoulder sink slightly.
Murayama looked into Seki Kotaro's eyes, where the usual playfulness was gone, replaced by a bottomless calm:
"Let's go."
Seki Kotaro looked into Murayama's eyes, feeling the irresistible force on his shoulder, and swallowed the protest that had reached his lips, his restless aura instantly receding, only able to lower his head unwillingly:
"…Yes."
Murayama then turned his head to look at the tall Furuya Hideto.
Furuya Hideto's face was filled with indignation, but under Murayama's calm gaze, he gritted his teeth, finally glaring fiercely at Atan before retreating resentfully.
Although the Oni-Dwell thugs were puzzled and dissatisfied, under Murayama's will, they could only follow and withdraw.
A few thugs walking at the very back didn't forget to turn back and make a throat-slitting gesture of provocation at the Sannoh Rengokai members, letting out disdainful sneers.
The Sannoh Rengokai members' taut nerves relaxed slightly, but their eyes remained vigilant.
Atetsu spat at the retreating backs of the Oni-Dwell members:
"Pah! A bunch of mad dogs!"
Atan, however, patted Yamato's shoulder, relieved, but the worry in his brows had not dissipated.
Yamato didn't respond, just silently returned to the restaurant.
After the Oni-Dwell members had gone some distance, Furuya Hideto finally couldn't help but growl angrily:
"Murayama!"
But seeing Murayama's lazy back, not looking back, his tone unconsciously weakened:
"Is this really okay? Last time, letting that Suzuran Crow go was also…"
Murayama didn't look back, his voice carrying a bored laziness, as if he had just escaped from a tedious gathering:
"Ah… Cobra isn't here, it's boring. Suzuran doesn't have Serizawa, also boring. Just wait, once all the main characters are here… that's when it'll be fun."
His voice gradually faded at the end of the street, carrying a hint of unsettling anticipation.
However, when Murayama and his group ambled back to Oni-Dwell, their steps suddenly halted.
Furuya Hideto, Seki Kotaro, and the elite thugs following him also froze in place, their faces filled with shock.
Oni-Dwell, usually as noisy as a boiling cauldron, was now plunged into an eerie silence.
Only the wailing of the wind through broken windows, and… the figures of thugs lying sprawled on the ground at the entrance, groaning in pain, silently told of a storm that had just passed through here.
Murayama's bored expression instantly vanished, replaced by a kindled, almost tangible, sharp interest underneath.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing beneath his messy hair, scanning the abnormal silence, and the corners of his mouth began to twitch uncontrollably upwards.
Furuya Hideto's massive body tensed, his face grim, as he vigilantly looked around, his muscles bulging like a lion whose territory had been invaded.
Seki Kotaro was no longer restless, a rare solemnity appearing on his corpulent face, his small eyes darting around, trying to find the source of this deadly silence.
The other elite thugs also shed their sloppiness, instinctively gathering behind Murayama, forming a defensive posture.
Murayama said nothing, just stepped forward, entering Oni-Dwell's main gate, with the other members following close behind.
Murayama made no move, but the sight before them made the executives' pupils contract sharply, and the other elite thugs gasped, instinctively taking half a step back, awed by the unimaginable scene before them.
In the front yard, in the corridors, at the stairwells, in the open space of the central courtyard… Oni-Dwell thugs lay sprawled everywhere.
Some were curled up like shrimp, coughing painfully;
Some were groaning softly, clutching obviously unnaturally bent arms or legs;
Some were simply unconscious.
Groans and gasps converged here into a low lament, forming a hellish contrast to the usual wild shouts and fierce battles.
Roughly seventy or eighty people, as if an army had just purged the place.
And at the end of this "carpet" paved with suffering bodies, on the main sofa that should have belonged to him, symbolizing the pinnacle of Oni-Dwell, a figure sat leisurely.
His neat black stand-collar uniform was stained with a few glaring streaks of blood, but it still looked strangely crisp on him.
The lenses of his black-rimmed glasses were intact, reflecting a cold light.
One arm rested casually on the sofa armrest, while the other hand was raised, waving casually at Murayama and the others entering, as if greeting late guests in his own living room.
Around him, like stars surrounding the moon, more thugs writhed in pain, as if they were necessary decorations beneath his throne.
"Yo, Murayama," he pushed up his glasses, his gaze from behind the lenses calmly falling on Murayama's face, which was filled with astonishment and rapidly rising excitement.
He lightly kicked away a thug trying to crawl away from his feet and continued in a tone of dark humor:
"I've been waiting for you for a long time. You have to clear out some noisy riff-raff to have a quiet conversation environment."
The air seemed to freeze at this moment.
Furuya Hideto behind Murayama let out a suppressed growl, and Seki Kotaro once again became restless.
But Murayama Yoshiki, after the initial dazed, his maniacal smile spread wildly like a vine across his face, and his eyes burned with a flame more intense and dangerous than ever before.
He had found him.
The guy who could make him feel "interesting."
The dust of the great battle between Suzuran and Housen had settled, but the internal strife within Suzuran had never truly dissipated.
Takiya Genji, the man who had forged his prestige with an iron fist, ultimately failed to truly unite this chaotic land.
He became Suzuran's banner to the outside world, the "de facto general," the "most respected leader," but not the sole, absolute "pinnacle."
Within the school, three factions remained distinctly separate—Genji's own GPS, the formidable Army of the Hundred Beasts, and the fearless junior new students.
After the war, Serizawa's Army of the Hundred Beasts did not disband, nor did they merge into GPS. They acknowledged Genji's "external representation rights," but internally, they still operated autonomously.
The setting sun dyed the training ground's sand a blood-red.
Genji, a cigarette dangling from his lips, stared intently at the man opposite him.
Hayashida Megumi, his tall and robust physique like a rock, exuded an inherent oppressive presence that could freeze the air, even with his lazy and decadent demeanor.
He watched Genji expressionlessly, as if observing a silent film unrelated to himself.
On the roof of the training building, the GPS executives—the calm Izaki Shun, the steady Makise Takashi, and the hot-blooded and impulsive Chuta—were looking down.
Not far away, Serizawa Tamao and his Army were also observing this unequal contest.
The atmosphere on Serizawa's side was somewhat subtle; Tatsukawa Tokio's brows were tightly furrowed, Tokaji Yuji wore an expression of someone enjoying a good show, and Tsutsumoto Shoji conversed in a low voice with his companions.
Genji took a final deep drag from his cigarette, then furiously flicked the butt to the ground and crushed it with his foot.
It was as if he was crushing all his hesitation and distracting thoughts along with it.
"Ah—!" He let out a beast-like roar, and like an arrow released from a bow, he charged recklessly towards Hayashida Megumi!
"Go, Genji!" Chuta immediately shouted excitedly from the rooftop, gripping the railing with both hands, his body leaning forward:
"Hayashida Megumi! Take this! You bastard, if you keep being so smug, I'll kill you!" His voice echoed across the empty training ground, yet it sounded particularly thin.
In contrast, Izaki and Makise were much calmer.
Izaki stood with his hands in his pockets, his sharp eyes observing the battle.
Makise stood with his arms crossed, his face devoid of expression.
They watched as Genji's two full-force straight punches were casually parried by Hayashida Megumi, and then, Hayashida Megumi's seemingly unremarkable counterattacks—one punch, then another, landing heavily on Genji.
"Ugh ah!" Genji cried out in pain, his body stumbling as he fell heavily onto the sand, kicking up a cloud of dust.
He curled up, groaning in agony.
"Genji! Get up! You can't lose!" Chuta was still shouting hoarsely.
Izaki's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and Makise quietly clicked his tongue, but neither of them spoke.
They knew this was not a gap that could be bridged by shouting.
Genji struggled, propping up his trembling body with his arms, and once again, stubbornly stood up.
He roared and charged again!
This time, his fist miraculously broke through Hayashida Megumi's defense, grazing his cheek!
However, Hayashida Megumi merely tilted his head slightly, his eyes still as calm as an ancient well.
Genji's response was met with even heavier, more precise punches and kicks.
"Bang!"
Genji fell to the ground again; this time, the pain was more intense, and his vision began to blur.
He desperately tried to prop himself up, but his arms felt heavy as lead, and he ultimately could only lie weakly on the ground, glaring furiously at Hayashida Megumi's tall figure.
Seeing that Genji had lost his fighting capability, Hayashida Megumi, as if completing a boring task, turned and silently walked away, his steps still steady.
"It's not over yet... you bastard!"
Genji used his last bit of strength to lift his head, roaring at the retreating figure, struggling to get up and chase, but only futilely falling again.
He finally collapsed from exhaustion, lying on his back on the cold sand, gasping for breath, looking at the gradually dimming sky, and growling unwillingly:
"Damn it..."
On the rooftop, Chuta, like a deflated ball, slumped to the ground, muttering:
"How could this be...?"
Izaki and Makise exchanged glances, both seeing helplessness and a hint of solemnity in each other's eyes.
They silently turned and left the rooftop.
Meanwhile, with the Serizawa Army.
"He lost again," Tsutsumoto Shoji sighed, his tone a mixture of disappointment and inevitability.
Serizawa Tamao looked at the figure below, who had finally failed to stand up again, his eyes complex.
He didn't discuss it like the others, but simply reached into his pocket, pulled out his few coins, and handed them to Tokaji Yuji beside him.
"If it's not enough, you can owe me the rest for now, you don't mind, do you?" Serizawa's tone still carried his characteristic nonchalance.
Tokaji Yuji looked at the few meager coins in his palm, paused, then exclaimed:
"Hey! Serizawa! This isn't enough at all! It's not even enough to buy a pack of cigarettes!"
The other members also began to discuss.
"What's wrong with Takiya? He keeps challenging him even though he can't win."
"Contending with someone who isn't even interested in dominating Suzuran, it's useless no matter how many times he fights."
Tatsukawa Tokio did not participate in the discussion. He gazed at the sky, his eyes deep, and slowly spoke:
"Without defeating Hayashida Megumi, he can't truly be considered to stand at the pinnacle of Suzuran. Even if his body has reached its limit, his spirit still cannot yield... The contest between him and Hayashida Megumi has never stopped in his heart."
Just then, Tokio seemed to suddenly remember something and added:
"By the way, Yuwen seems to have transferred schools."
The name "Yuwen" was like a stone thrown into calm water, instantly bringing all discussions to a halt.
That person, both loved and hated—the troublemaker!
That guy who promoted some kind of Full-Time Student Faction and "fixed-time system" alliance!
If you said he was good, almost everyone in Suzuran had been beaten by him.
If you said he was bad, everyone had more or less received his help. During the last big fight with Housen, if he hadn't led the junior new students to hold the training ground entrance, intercepting Housen's reinforcements, the main battlefield's losses would probably have been even greater...
Serizawa raised an eyebrow, clearly interested in the news:
"Where did he transfer to?"
Tokio uttered two words, but they exploded like thunder in everyone's ears:
"Oni-Dwell."
In an instant, everyone's expressions froze.
The members of the Serizawa Army looked at each other, their faces filled with shock and disbelief.
Yuwen, who dared to stir up trouble alone, actually went to Oni-Dwell, a place even more chaotic and violence-worshipping than Suzuran?
Tsutsumoto Shoji's mouth hung open: "Oni-Dwell?! Is he crazy?"
Tokaji Yuji also dropped his cynical expression, his eyes becoming serious: "That monster's nest..."
The air seemed to freeze again, but this time, it was because of the name of someone far away in Oni-Dwell, and the premonition of an unknown storm it brought.
Yuwen pushed up the black-rimmed glasses on his nose, his gaze sweeping over Murayama and the Oni-Dwell elites behind him, who looked as if they were facing a formidable enemy. A polite smile, completely out of place with the grim atmosphere, appeared on his face.
Oh, why the glasses?
These glasses were originally a disguise Yuwen had carefully prepared.
He had thought the transfer procedures would be complicated and planned to act as a refined, top student in front of the dean or admissions director to avoid a lot of trouble.
The result?
He didn't even see the leaders; only a coach who looked like an office worker took his money and casually handed him an Oni-Dwell special attack uniform, considering the transfer complete.
The transfer was even more perfunctory than he had expected.
"Murayama," he said, his voice gentle yet clearly cutting through the lingering groans of pain in the air, "From now on, we are companions. Please take good care of me."
He paused, as if not seeing the increasingly intense madness in Murayama's eyes, and added, "Of course, if the 'care' could be a bit more civilized—for example... less fists, more brains—I would be even more grateful."
These words were like lighting a fuse.
"Huh?!" Furuya Hideto, behind Murayama, was the first to let out an incredulous growl. His already gloomy face twisted with anger: "What the hell are you talking about, you bastard!"
Seki Kotaro stomped his feet restlessly, his corpulent body like a small mountain about to erupt: "What a joke! Murayama Big Bro! Let me tear him apart!"
The other elite thugs also became agitated, and vulgarities and threatening growls instantly filled the entire training ground.
They couldn't understand whether this guy, who had just massacred Oni-Dwell and was now acting like a top student, was humiliating them or truly insane.
The moment Yuwen said, "Less fists, more brains," the excited smile on Murayama's face suddenly froze. Then, as if he had heard the most absurd joke in the world, the corners of his mouth twitched unnaturally.
He was momentarily stunned, as if his brain needed time to process a statement completely beyond his comprehension.
Immediately afterward, an expression of severe offense, like a dark cloud, swept across his face.
His eyes instantly became extremely dangerous. It was no longer the look of a predator seeking fun, but rather like a fierce beast whose tail had been stepped on, filled with pure and cold rage.
"Heh..." A cold laugh, full of deep sarcasm and disbelief, squeezed from his throat.
He tilted his head, scrutinizing Yuwen up and down with eyes that looked at a monster, as if confirming whether something was wrong with the other person.
"Brains?" Murayama repeated the word, his tone strangely rising, carrying undisguised disdain and mockery, "Are you f***ing... talking about brains with me, Murayama Yoshiki?"
He seemed to have heard the biggest joke ever. His shoulders began to shrug slightly, but it was by no means a happy laugh; it was a furious laugh, the suppressed thunder before a storm.
"Alright! You want me to 'take care' of you, huh?"
Murayama's voice trembled slightly from extreme excitement and anger. He licked his somewhat dry lips, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying light: "Then I'll use Oni-Dwell's highest etiquette—my fists—to thoroughly 'brainwash' you! Let's see whose reason is harder, or if my fists are harder!"
In an instant, centered on Murayama, a fighting spirit even more violent and substantial than before swept out like a storm, suppressing the clamor of the elites behind him.
He was thoroughly enraged, and an enraged Murayama Yoshiki was Oni-Dwell's most terrifying disaster.
Yuwen looked at the wonderful changes in expression on the faces of the Oni-Dwell members opposite him, his heart filled with helpless complaints.
He had originally intended to have a good "chat" with Murayama about the guys who hurt the old lady, and incidentally promote the concept of "harmonious coexistence between the Full-Time Student Faction and the "fixed-time system"".
But the Murayama in front of him was clearly not someone he could "chat" with.
This guy was now like a humanoid weapon loaded only with combat programming, with hard fists but an empty mind, lacking his own convictions.
It probably echoed Takiya Hideo's famous saying: Fists have no love.
Yuwen even thought self-deprecatingly, wasn't he himself the same?
His fists also lacked conviction; the only thing to be grateful for was—his fists were strong enough!
Over at Suzuran, Genji and Serizawa were watching over things, and most of the thugs had received favors from the Full-Time Student Faction students, so the base was relatively stable.
Over at Housen, Narumi Taiga, full of responsibility, was watching, so he didn't need to worry.
The only trouble was the pinnacle of Oni-Dwell before him—Murayama Yoshiki.
Yuwen didn't think that fighting Murayama in his current state would make him willingly help him promote his ideas.
"The current Murayama is not the awakened him from later on..." Yuwen sighed inwardly.
Oni-Dwell was completely different from Suzuran and Housen.
Though Suzuran was chaotic, it still had its pride and heritage;
Though Housen was ruthless, it valued justice and rules greatly.
Oni-Dwell, however, was a place where the law of the jungle, "survival of the fittest," was carried out to the extreme.
Here, guys like Murayama, who only knew how to fight and were as simple-minded as children, could actually reach the top by virtue of absolute strength.
"It's a shame Genji didn't come to Oni-Dwell," Yuwen couldn't help but think.
"Otherwise, with his stubbornness and strength, he could easily become the boss here just by his fists, and wouldn't have to struggle so much with Hayashida Megumi at Suzuran."
His thoughts returned, and Yuwen stood up from the sofa that symbolized the pinnacle position.
His movements pulled at some minor wounds on his body, causing a slight stinging pain, but this only made him more awake and excited.
His eyes burned as he looked at the Oni-Dwell elites behind Murayama, who were visibly stronger than the cannon fodder lying on the ground—Furuya, Seki Kotaro, and some other impressive-looking individuals.
Yuwen twisted his neck, his joints cracking crisply. The gentle smile on his face gradually replaced by an excitement of seeing a worthy opponent:
"I was wondering, with the level of those guys just now, how could they be ranked among The Three Heavens with Suzuran and Housen..."
His gaze finally settled on Murayama, the pinnacle who was trembling slightly from extreme excitement and anger.
"So, the elites were all taken out by you," Yuwen realized, and a sense of anticipation spread like wildfire in his heart: "The five recognized by the Hot-Blooded District, Oni-Dwell's true strength... what is it really like? Murayama Yoshiki, you must not disappoint me."
As if in response to his words, behind the windows of the surrounding training buildings and in the corridors, the other Oni-Dwell thugs, who had been temporarily silenced by Yuwen's violent suppression, now erupted in a sudden clamor and jeering, as if unmuted.
Their eyes towards Yuwen were filled with apprehension and fear, but even more so with a kind of ignited, twisted fanaticism.
This guy had just transferred in and had already beaten down every thug who provoked him, and every thug he disliked, taking down over a hundred people!
This was a terrifying record that even Murayama Yoshiki had never achieved!
If Yuwen were an external enemy, the Oni-Dwell thugs, to uphold the dignity of The Three Heavens, would rush forward one after another, even if they knew they couldn't win.
But the thing was, Yuwen was wearing Oni-Dwell's special attack uniform; he was "one of their own."
This put the remaining thugs who hadn't made a move and were watching coldly in an extremely awkward position.
Was it worth challenging a monster who could single-handedly take on a hundred people for an internal struggle among "one of their own"?
Weighing the pros and cons, silence and observation became the choice of most.
And this was precisely Yuwen's purpose in transferring to Oni-Dwell—to use Oni-Dwell's extremely realistic and self-serving atmosphere to break the deadlock from within.
Murayama Yoshiki looked at the guy before him, whose aura was constantly rising and whose eyes burned with a fire similar yet distinctly different from his own. The mad smile on his face finally shed all pretense, blooming like a demon's.
"Interesting... so interesting!"
Murayama's voice was distorted by excitement and anger. He took a step forward, and an invisible aura collided with Yuwen's:
"Companions, huh? Alright... then I'll use Oni-Dwell's way to properly 'take care' of you, my new companion!"
A great battle was about to erupt.
Yuwen and Murayama's fists collided fiercely, emitting a dull thud of flesh.
The moment they touched, Yuwen's heart tightened.
He had originally estimated Murayama's strength to be on par with Genji and Serizawa, perhaps slightly superior in some aspects.
But the reality was that with his system-enhanced body, where all three basic attributes had reached 13 points, he could only fight Murayama to a stalemate!
"This guy…!"
In the fleeting moment his concentration wavered, Murayama seized the opportunity, unleashing a heavy, hammer-like straight punch that landed squarely on Yuwen's cheekbone.
"Bang!"
Yuwen grunted, his body staggering back a few steps uncontrollably, and a coppery, sweet taste of blood instantly filled his mouth.
"Tsk…" Murayama shook his wrist, the excitement on his face dimming slightly, replaced by a hint of disappointment:
"Is that all? I was so looking forward to it…"
His voice carried a hint of boredom, as if he had just opened a beautifully wrapped gift only to find its contents unexceptional.
"Brother Murayama! Take him down!"
"Let him see the power of Oni-Dwell's top!"
Furuya Hideto and Seki Kotaro immediately started shouting, while the other elite thugs burst into laughter and jeers, believing this arrogant transfer student was nothing special.
Yuwen wiped away the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth with his finger, and looking at the fresh crimson on his fingertip, he not only wasn't angry but chuckled softly.
The laughter, initially suppressed, gradually became clearer, filled with the wild joy of discovering a treasure.
"Heh heh… Hahahaha…" He raised his head, the previous helplessness and calculation in his eyes completely replaced by burning fighting spirit:
"Perfect… Last time I fought that guy from the Silver Dragon Society, it was too stifling, I couldn't fully enjoy it. Murayama… I'll use you to properly measure my current strength!"
He spread his legs slightly, lowered his center of gravity, and raised his arms, adopting a standard yet sharp martial arts stance.
His entire demeanor transformed; from being somewhat passive just now, he became a drawn blade.
Murayama looked at Yuwen, whose aura had suddenly changed, and the boredom in his eyes instantly vanished, as if he had been re-energized.
He bent down excitedly, his hands casually waving forward like a street thug, his movements full of provocation, and that characteristic, wild smile bloomed on his face once more.
"That's right! That's right! This is how it should be!" Murayama's voice rose with excitement, "Come on! Make me happier, transfer student!"
"As you wish!" Yuwen roared, his figure suddenly darting forward.
Mastery · Martial Arts activated!
The pace of the subsequent battle suddenly accelerated.
Yuwen no longer clashed head-on; his footwork was nimble, his movements like the wind.
Fists, elbows, knees, and legs transformed into a precise arsenal, striking in combination, at tricky angles.
A feint with a straight punch was followed by a low sweep kick;
While blocking, an elbow strike was already closing in on his opponent's opening.
Murayama, accustomed to the straightforward, brute-force exchanges and will-based brawls between thugs, was highly unaccustomed to this fighting style, which integrated technique, anticipation, and continuous strikes.
His signature fierce attacks were dismantled again and again, his heavy fists repeatedly missed their mark, while his chest, side, and cheek were continuously struck by Yuwen's attacks, emitting dull "thuds."
"Ugh!"
"Cough!"
Murayama was repeatedly forced back, and although he endured it with his extraordinary resilience, the scene became quite disheveled.
"How is this possible?!"
"What kind of fighting style is that guy using?"
The smiles on the faces of Furuya and Seki froze, replaced by shock and confusion.
They had never seen anyone able to suppress Murayama in an excited state with such a "precise" method.
Yuwen suddenly felt that these guys were truly abnormal.
Murayama, Genji, Serizawa, Narumi, and those thugs who dominated their territories—their fights relied solely on formidable physical prowess, terrifying combat talent, and extensive experience in brawling.
If they could systematically learn martial arts, combining that wild instinct with combat techniques… wouldn't they be even more abnormal than he was?
"Ha… Haha… Hahahaha!"
Murayama, despite being at a disadvantage, showed no frustration; instead, he let out an even more excited, even trembling, laugh from deep in his throat.
He wiped his broken lip with the back of his hand, his eyes shining terrifyingly.
"Interesting! So interesting!" He stared intently at Yuwen, as if he had discovered a new continent:
"This feeling… it's completely different from previous fights! You… are different!"
"Warm-up's over, Murayama." Yuwen adjusted his breathing, feeling the Berserker talent converting the damage he had just sustained into strands of power, integrating into his limbs and bones.
"Just as I like it!" Murayama roared, lunging forward again.
This time, the tide of battle changed.
Murayama's monstrous combat talent began to manifest; he no longer charged blindly, but instead, relying on his battle-hardened experience and beast-like instincts, he began to anticipate and adapt to Yuwen's attack patterns.
Although he still took more hits, he could barely keep up with the rhythm, and even occasionally managed to land crude but effective counterattacks that were almost instinctive, allowing him to fight Yuwen's martial arts to a near-draw!
"He blocked it!"
"Brother Murayama has adapted!"
The Oni-Dwell elites rekindled their hope, cheering loudly.
The more Yuwen fought, the more startled he became; Murayama's growth rate was astonishing.
At the same time, he clearly realized that the green-level Mastery · Martial Arts was beginning to show its limitations.
It might be sufficient against school thugs, but once he stepped into the broader, more brutal dark world, like the Silver Dragon Society master he encountered before, this level of skill would be far from enough.
However, the effect of Berserker became increasingly apparent as the battle continued.
Yuwen felt his strength, speed, and reaction time slowly improving; his punches grew heavier, and his offense became fiercer.
Murayama clearly felt this constantly increasing pressure, but the flames in his eyes burned even brighter; excitement and fighting spirit almost burst from his chest!
"Bang!"
The two exchanged another punch, each sliding back a few steps, temporarily separating.
White mist from their strenuous activity rapidly exhaled from their mouths and noses, and sweat mixed with dust and blood soaked their special attack uniforms.
Murayama vigorously shook his somewhat numb arm, a twisted smile of extreme satisfaction on his face, and shouted:
"Hey! Crow from Suzuran! What's your name?! I acknowledge you! You're worthy of me remembering your name!"
Yuwen didn't answer directly; instead, he used the back of his hand to wipe away the mixture of sweat and blood flowing from his temple:
"My name? Last time at the entrance, I wanted to tell you properly, but your ears seemed to only hear the sound of your own fists." His tone carried a hint of helplessness, yet was full of provocation.
Murayama laughed wildly, completely unconcerned:
"Doesn't matter! Names or whatever! I'll just pry it out of your mouth after I thoroughly beat you down!"
"Then we'll see if you have the ability!" Yuwen roared, an even more intense flame igniting in his eyes:
"This time, I won't use those techniques; I'll just use the fists you're most familiar with, and beat you until you submit!"
Before his words finished, Yuwen truly abandoned his refined martial arts stance, like the most primitive warrior, pouring all his strength into his fists and charging violently towards Murayama!
"Come on!!" Murayama's face was almost contorted with excitement, letting out a deafening roar, and likewise met him with the purest, most savage posture!
Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The most direct and savage sounds of fists colliding with fists, and bodies with bodies, echoed like war drums in Oni-Dwell's courtyard!
Both completely abandoned defense; every clash was a real exchange of blows, with sweat and blood splattering everywhere!
"That's it! That's it! Hahaha!"
Murayama roared with laughter amidst the fierce exchange, reveling in the pleasure brought by this extreme violence:
"This is the fight I wanted!!"
However, as the battle intensified, the Berserker's talent completely boiled within Yuwen!
Every blow he endured was like fuel injected into an engine, transforming into more ferocious strength, swifter speed, and more resilient physique!
"Boom!"
It was another straightforward heavy punch, but this time, it was Murayama who reeled back!
He staggered back several steps, a searing ache shooting through his arm, and for the first time, an expression of disbelief appeared on his face.
"How is this possible… Your punches… How can they get heavier and heavier?!"
Murayama gasped for breath, looking at Yuwen across from him, whose aura was still continuously rising, as if he was looking at an inexhaustible monster.
"Your punches are hot, and direct," Yuwen's voice came through his heavy breathing:
"But that's all they are! Your punches are empty, Murayama."
"Don't talk big!" Murayama roared unwillingly, charging again like a moth flying into a flame.
Murayama was knocked back repeatedly, yet he charged at Yuwen again and again, but the result remained the same!
Yuwen was breathing heavily, his gaze piercing through the flying dust, locking onto Murayama opposite him, who was like a tireless war machine.
Murayama's punches were heavy, very heavy; each blow was imbued with his monstrous physique and burning fighting spirit.
His fighting spirit was astonishingly tenacious, as if no matter how many times he was knocked down, he could instinctively get back up again.
But… Yuwen felt what was transmitted through the opponent's fist wind—it was a punch thrown purely for "winning," a fanaticism immersed in the pleasure of violence itself, an almost instinctive desire to fight, bound by the title of "Oni-Dwell's Pinnacle."
Something was missing from his punches.
Yuwen's mind instantly flashed with Genji's stubbornness, throwing punches to surpass his father and for his comrades;
It flashed with Serizawa's astonishing power, hidden beneath a lazy exterior, erupting to protect those around him;
It flashed with Narumi Taiga of Housen, the heavy sense of responsibility to fight for the organization's survival and dignity.
Their punches, perhaps not as purely powerful and wild as Murayama's at this moment, but each punch carried a certain weight, something beyond "victory" itself—that was belief, that was bonds, that was a goal that must be protected or achieved.
And Murayama's punches, though powerful in "form," lacked the crucial "soul."
Like a supremely sharp blade without a hilt, it could wound the enemy, but also easily wound oneself.
His belief lacked solid support, built only on the shifting sands of "strongest" and "fighting is fun."
This made his attacks sharp, but lacking a core strength that could penetrate throughout and turn the tide in desperate situations.
So, although your punches are powerful, Yuwen said silently in his heart to Murayama, who was roaring and charging again, they cannot reach the true pinnacle.
Because what can destroy everything is never just power itself, but the heart that gives power meaning.
Yuwen's punches were like a storm, even heavier, even swifter!
All of Murayama's fierce attacks were met with even greater force, and every collision made him feel the bones in his arm wailing!
"Bang!"
Yuwen delivered a devastating low kick to the side of Murayama's supporting leg, the intense pain forcing him to one knee, followed by an uppercut that fiercely struck his jaw!
"Ugh!" Murayama was knocked backward, falling heavily into the dust.
"Brother Murayama!!"
"Impossible! How could Murayama…"
Furuya Hideto's eyes were bloodshot, Seki Kotaro let out a roar like a wounded beast, and the other Oni-Dwell thugs were filled with shock and disbelief.
Their invincible pinnacle, in their minds, was now being knocked down again and again!
Murayama struggled, propping up his trembling body with his arms; he looked up at Yuwen, his eyes filled with confusion and incredulity:
"Who… are you?! Suzuran… How could Suzuran have someone like you?! Why aren't you the pinnacle?!"
Yuwen stood before him, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his jawline, but his posture remained upright:
"Takiya Genji, Serizawa Tamao, Narumi Taiga… They may not be as strong as you," Yuwen's voice clearly reached Murayama's ears:
"But they have something they must protect in their hearts, an unshakeable belief! Only such punches have a soul! Therefore, the one who ultimately stands at the pinnacle must be a person of belief!"
"Belief… soul…?" Murayama murmured, a trace of confusion flashing in his eyes, but it was immediately replaced by a fiercer fighting spirit, "That kind of thing… Let's talk about it after I win!!"
He unleashed his last burst of strength, charging at Yuwen again like a final surge of energy before death.
The two once again exchanged blows, each impact making hearts pound!
But everyone could see that Murayama was at the end of his rope, while Yuwen's strength seemed endless!
"How is this possible… Are you… a monster…"
Murayama screamed internally, his body had reached its limit, and his consciousness began to blur, but the pride of Oni-Dwell's pinnacle kept him from collapsing immediately.
"Brother Murayama! Get up!"
"Pinnacle! You can't lose!"
Furuya Hideto clenched his fists, his fingernails almost digging into his flesh.
Seki Kotaro, that hot-headed man, now had tears in his eyes, desperately shouting with a choked, hoarse voice, "Brother—!!"
"Bang!"
It was another undisputed clash, and Murayama flew backward again, struggled a few times, but couldn't get up immediately.
He lay on his back, looking at the gloomy sky, only one thought swirling in his mind:
"I am… Oni-Dwell's pinnacle… How can I… lose to a crow who isn't even Suzuran's pinnacle…"
"I… How can I… fall here…" he muttered deliriously, his eyes beginning to lose focus.
"Bastard! Let's go! Avenge Brother Murayama!"
Furuya Hideto could no longer hold back, roaring as he tried to lead the charge.
Seki Kotaro and the other elite thugs also had red eyes, wanting to swarm forward like a bursting dam!
"Everyone—STOP!!!"
A hoarse but majestic roar, like that of a wounded lion, erupted from Murayama's mouth as he lay on the ground!
He used all his strength to lift his trembling body, looking at his subordinates with fierce and resolute eyes:
"Don't come over… Anyone who dares to interfere… I'll kill them!! This is… my fight!! Get back!!!"
Furuya Hideto and the others' footsteps were rooted to the spot, watching their pinnacle, who would never admit defeat even when down, and hot tears finally streamed uncontrollably from their eyes.
"Ugh—!!!"
A roar like a dying beast squeezed from deep within Murayama's throat.
He gripped the ground with his arms, his trembling muscles unleashing their last strength, pulling his scarred body back up from the dust!
Blood flowed down his temple, blurring one of his eyes, but in his remaining eye, a nearly insane obsession burned.
He stared fixedly at the standing figure in front of him, his legs trembling but moving forward with abnormal determination, step by step, gradually increasing speed, finally erupting into an all-out roar and charge!
"How can I… fall at your hands!!!"
"I am—Oni-Dwell's pinnacle, Murayama Yoshiki—!!!"