"So he's been stepping on another Hollow this whole time… No wonder he didn't move. I even thought he'd been scared stiff…"Rukia Kuchiki lowered her head and examined Motokawa Yosuke's condition, quickly realizing that he hadn't been a Hollow for very long.
"With that man's strength, this Hollow should've been destroyed ages ago. The fact that he dragged things out this long means the two of them must've known each other."
Having reached a conclusion, Rukia immediately turned to Ichigo Kurosaki and asked,
"Hey! You know this Hollow, don't you?"
"Hollow?" Ichigo didn't quite understand the term. Seeing her pointing at Motokawa Yosuke, he nodded. "You mean Uncle Yosuke? Yeah, we know him."
He then explained everything—from Yosuke's death and lingering regret, to Chu Yang helping recover the compensation money.
"Didn't expect that guy to be so kind-hearted," Rukia muttered to herself, glancing at Chu Yang, who looked more like a humanoid monster than a normal person.
"So this state is called a Hollow?" Ichigo asked anxiously. "Why did Uncle Yosuke become like this? Is there any way to turn him back?"
"The best solution is to let him pass on," Rukia replied calmly. "Since his final wish has been fulfilled, he shouldn't remain in the living world. Otherwise, he'll eventually lose all reason and truly become a monster."
She briefly explained the concepts of souls and Hollows, already considering how to perform the soul burial for Motokawa Yosuke.
Chu Yang had already severely injured him—at this point, Yosuke no longer had the ability to resist whatever Rukia decided to do.
However, purifying a Hollow was far more complicated than dealing with an ordinary soul. It required extensive preparation.
Before she could perform the rite, the surroundings had to be stabilized—no outside interference allowed.
Which meant the near-evolved Hollow in front of them had to be dealt with first.
"Damn it… As a Shinigami, how can I just stand here and watch? This is supposed to be my responsibility!"
The close-quarters battle between Chu Yang and the Hollow was ferocious. There was no opening at all for Rukia's Zanpakutō—she could only watch helplessly.
If the area hadn't been so sparsely populated with few buildings, this would've already turned into a massive disaster.
The ground nearby was almost completely destroyed, riddled with craters and trenches.
If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, Rukia would never have believed it.
If someone in Soul Society had told her that a human could suppress a Hollow with nothing but physical strength—without a Zanpakutō—she would've called them insane.
After a prolonged struggle, Chu Yang leapt high into the air and smashed his fist down, shattering the Hollow's mask.
BOOM—!!!
The massive Hollow collapsed. Fragments of its broken mask scattered in the wind, revealing a human face beneath.
"Your turn!" Chu Yang cracked his neck and jumped off the Hollow, looking utterly exhausted.
In terms of raw combat power, the Bleach world was clearly above the Naruto and One Piece worlds. No matter how exaggerated the latter two got, they were still largely bound by human limits—
With the Sage of Six Paths being the rare exception.
Given the high power ceiling of the Bleach world, even an ordinary Hollow was no easy opponent—let alone one that was already evolving toward a Gillian.
Without using Wood Release or other abilities, Chu Yang had genuinely expended a great deal of effort to defeat it.
Even so, the outcome was more than enough to leave Rukia stunned.
She had been a Shinigami for years, and this was the first time she'd ever seen something like this.
At Chu Yang and Ichigo's request, Rukia performed the soul burial for Motokawa Yosuke first—even though the other Hollow posed the greater threat.
At the very end of the ritual, Motokawa Yosuke regained his original consciousness. Upon learning that the compensation money had already been delivered to his family, he finally let go of his last attachment to the living world.
Before departing, the honest, hardworking man sincerely thanked Chu Yang and Ichigo for everything they had done for him.
After seeing Yosuke off, Rukia turned to purify the other Hollow, plunging her Zanpakutō into the hollow cavity in its chest.
From the sweat trickling down her temples, Chu Yang could tell that this was far from an easy task—much more troublesome than handling Yosuke.
"You're seriously impressive," Ichigo said quietly as he walked up beside Chu Yang. "To go toe-to-toe with something like that…"
"What do you mean 'toe-to-toe'?" Chu Yang protested. "Didn't you see how badly I beat it? I didn't even get my clothes dirty."
Ichigo turned and looked at him.
Sure enough, Chu Yang's school uniform was spotless—not a tear or stain in sight.
Of course it was. His entire body had been coated in Armament Haki. To break through that, at the very least, you'd need a Gillian-class Hollow.
"That girl said she's a Shinigami," Ichigo scratched his head. "So… are you a Shinigami too?"
Chu Yang shot him an annoyed look. "I'm the King of Hell."
Japanese Buddhism had its roots in China, so the concept of the King of Hell existed—just not as widely known as Ksitigarbha.
Ichigo froze for a second before realizing Chu Yang was messing with him, then laughed awkwardly.
"Unfortunately, there's no King of Hell in the underworld," Rukia said as her voice rang out. "Only souls burdened with grave sins—like this Hollow."
As she spoke, a terrifying gate slowly manifested in the air.
Ancient runes covered its surface. At its center, a pair of skeletal hands clutched the doors, prying them open with horrific force.
At the sight of the Gates of Hell, both Chu Yang and Ichigo felt a chill crawl up their spines.
"A Zanpakutō can purify a Hollow's corruption, but the sins it committed in life will still be judged in Hell. Motokawa Yosuke wasn't dragged in because he'd only recently become a Hollow—and he bore no sins of his own."
Rukia explained calmly.
She'd seen this countless times—there was nothing shocking about it.
The gates opened fully, slowly dragging the Hollow inside. Beyond them was pure chaos—Chu Yang couldn't make out anything clearly.
But—
He could feel something inside watching him.
That alone put him on guard.
Moments later, the gates closed again, fading into nothingness as if they'd never existed.
With the Hollow sent to Hell, Rukia's mission was complete—but instead of leaving, she walked straight up to Chu Yang.
"Are you a Fullbringer?"
That was the only explanation she could think of for a human with such absurd power.
Fullbringers could draw out the souls of objects and reinforce them with their own spiritual power—enhancing mobility or altering the shape of items they were familiar with.
There were many types of Fullbringers, including those that strengthened their own bodies—like Ichigo's friend, Yasutora "Chad" Sado.
"What's a Fullbringer?" Ichigo asked again, completely lost. Too many unfamiliar terms had come up tonight.
Rukia sighed and began explaining.
"Oh, so that's what it is!" Ichigo exclaimed once he understood, turning curiously toward Chu Yang for confirmation.
To avoid unnecessary trouble, Chu Yang neither confirmed nor denied it—simply remaining silent.
Rukia gave him a long, searching look.
She'd originally planned to use a memory modification device on the two of them, but Chu Yang's strength made her hesitate. Using force might not end well.
And Shinigami weren't allowed to harm ordinary humans anyway—if the Seireitei found out, she'd be severely punished.
So instead, she secretly placed special markers on both Chu Yang and Ichigo, allowing her to locate them later. After issuing a stern warning, she vanished.
"Really hope I don't run into that girl again," Ichigo said, hands clasped behind his head. "This was the most intense night of my fifteen years."
Chu Yang chuckled. "It might get even more intense later."
Ichigo waved frantically. "No way! I just want to live peacefully—study like a normal person, go to college, graduate, and get a job."
"Then I wish you good luck," Chu Yang yawned. "I'm heading home to sleep."
As he walked off under the moonlight, Ichigo muttered, "Something about that guy just feels… off."
Then his face went pale.
"Oh crap! It's this late—Dad's gonna freak out!"
And he took off running.
Demon Slayer World
Kanroji Mitsuri and the others were eating ramen in a small shop—the owners were none other than Iguro Obanai and Mitsuri herself.
"Wu—uh, Chu Yang's still training? Muzan's already dead! Why's he still obsessed with surpassing the limits of Sun Breathing?" Shinobu complained to everyone at the table.
Chu Yang had promised to come eat with them today, only to cancel at the last minute—fueling Shinobu's frustration.
Makomo and Kanao exchanged glances, then quietly focused on their noodles, not daring to join in badmouthing Chu Yang.
To any former Demon Slayer, Chu Yang was an unquestionable hero—the man who ended a thousand-year war.
Kanae gently stroked Shinobu's hair and said softly, "It's precisely because he's so driven that he was able to defeat Muzan at such a young age—and give us this peaceful life."
"I know!" Shinobu pouted. "He's suffered enough, endured enough. Why keep pushing himself so hard? Why not slow down and actually enjoy life for once?"
Kanae smiled and fed her sister something tasty, soothing her mood.
Truth be told, Kanae didn't fully understand Chu Yang's mindset either.
Muzan was dead. Chu Yang was already the strongest human in the world. What meaning was there in growing even stronger?
Butterfly Estate
Golden flames coiled around Chu Yang's body as he completed another breathing cycle—but the improvement was minimal.
He could clearly feel it: Sun Breathing had hit a bottleneck.
"How am I supposed to break through?"
The Demon Slayer Mark. The Transparent World. He had mastered them all.
Whether refining technique further or strengthening his body through repetition, it felt like there was nothing new left for Breathing Styles to offer.
The frustration weighed on him.
So he decided to step outside—to end this closed-off training.
When Kanae and the others returned from the ramen shop and discovered Chu Yang was gone, even the usually gentle Kanae exploded at the doorway.
"If he comes back again, lock the door! That bastard!"
Unfortunately, Chu Yang was already far away, blissfully unaware of her fury.
For his first stop, he hadn't decided on a destination at all. After some thought, he chose to simply wander wherever his mood took him.
Mountains would be split.Rivers would be crossed.
The chorus of insects and birds in the mountains, the ceaseless roar of rivers along their banks—all of it became a soothing balm that slowly eased the agitation in Chu Yang's heart.
As he wandered, his mind gradually relaxed, and the Sun Breathing technique appeared less and less frequently in his thoughts.
By the end of it, he even released the Total Concentration: Constant state that he had been deliberately maintaining every single day.
Chu Yang continued his journey like an ordinary person.
Before he realized it, he had arrived at a remote little town—one that felt inexplicably familiar.
This was the town where he had once met Kamado Tanjuro.
Thinking about it, it had been a long time since he'd last seen that father and son who were as warm as the sun itself.
He wondered how Tanjuro's health was doing now.
Chu Yang planned to head up the mountain to visit him, but halfway there, he noticed someone gathering medicinal herbs on a cliff.
"That cliff is so steep… one slip and—"
Before the thought even finished forming, a violent gust of wind suddenly swept through the area. Chu Yang lifted his head and saw a vast, dark mass rolling in from afar.
A typhoon.
The herb gatherer on the cliff sensed it too. He froze midway up the slope, stuck in an awkward position, hesitation written all over his body.
It was already too late to warn him verbally. Chu Yang broke into a sprint toward the cliff.
The herb gatherer swayed like a willow leaf in the gale.
Crack—
The rock beneath his feet shattered without warning. His body lurched backward violently, his grip loosened, and he plunged straight down.
"AAAAAH—!!!"
Just as he was convinced he'd be reduced to a pile of flesh, his body suddenly jolted to a stop—as if something had grabbed him.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing safely on solid ground.
In front of him stood a broad-shouldered young man, smiling at him.
To express his gratitude for saving his life, the herb gatherer insisted on bringing Chu Yang home to host him properly.
By now, the storm was intensifying, and faced with such heartfelt insistence, Chu Yang could only agree and follow him deeper into the mountains.
When they arrived, Chu Yang saw two houses.
One of them was instantly familiar.
Tanjuro's home.
And the house next to it belonged to the herb gatherer.
So they were neighbors!
The last time Chu Yang had been here, only Tanjuro's family had lived in this area.
Tanjuro was outside chopping firewood. Hearing footsteps, he assumed it was the neighbor returning home and looked up to greet him.
"Mr. Tokito, you're back. Today's harvest—"
His voice cut off abruptly.
He had seen a familiar figure.
Tears immediately welled up in his eyes.
Firewood crackled as it burned. Chu Yang sat by the fire with Tanjuro and several of his children.
Tanjuro's wife was busy preparing dinner. The visitor before her was the great benefactor who had saved her husband and son—there was no way she could be negligent.
Not long ago, Tanjuro, whose condition had been relatively stable, had hunted down a plump wild boar. Hundreds of pounds of pork had been cured and stored, and now was the perfect time to take some out.
The rich aroma of food filled the air, sending the children into excited cheers.
Aside from Tanjiro, the other children chased one another around the fire.
Tanjiro leaned against his father, his round eyes fixed on Chu Yang, filled with joy.
He remembered clearly—ever since Big Brother Chu Yang had visited their home last time, his father's health had improved noticeably.
"Mr. Yang," Tanjuro said with a gentle smile as he poked the fire, "the world outside seems much better lately. We haven't heard of demons harming people at all."
"The children should be able to live peacefully from now on."
Chu Yang nodded. Tanjuro knew some of the inside story, so there was no need for excessive caution when talking about these matters.
"How's your health?" Chu Yang asked, noticing Tanjuro's still slightly sallow complexion.
"Much better," Tanjuro replied immediately.
The terminal illness was still slowly eating away at his life. Though Chu Yang had given him a great deal of vitality, it only treated the symptoms, not the root.
Chu Yang looked into Tanjuro's eyes and saw the flicker of panic there. He knew Tanjuro was lying.
"In a few days, I'll bring a friend to take a look at you," Chu Yang said.
"No, no, there's no need," Tanjuro waved his hands frantically. "This illness can't be cured. I don't want to trouble you—or have you owe anyone a favor because of me."
"I'm informing you, not asking for your permission," Chu Yang said flatly. "If you really feel bad about it, then dance the Kagura for me again."
Tanjuro nodded in agreement.
Knock, knock, knock—
Someone knocked on the door.
"It must be Mr. Tokito," Tanjuro said as he stood up to open it. The children immediately followed behind him, thinking their father was about to go out again.
"Mr. Tokito?" Chu Yang frowned slightly. The surname sounded familiar.
The door opened, and cold wind rushed in, dropping the temperature sharply. Tanjuro hurriedly ushered the Tokito family inside and shut the door tight.
They had come to thank Chu Yang for saving a life earlier.
"Sir, hello. My name is Tokito Ichiro. These are my two children—Yuichiro and Muichiro."
Tokito Ichiro rested his hands on the shoulders of the two boys and pressed gently. Instantly understanding, they bowed deeply with their father.
Tokito Muichiro?
Chu Yang's gaze settled on the youngest child.
He hadn't expected that this impulsive journey would lead him to meet someone who should have become the Mist Hashira.
Unfortunately…
The Demon Slayer Corps had already been disbanded. This child's frightening talent might never be discovered in his lifetime.
But perhaps that was for the best.
Compared to becoming a peerless prodigy of the Demon Slayer Corps, Muichiro would probably rather live peacefully with his family.
Seeing Chu Yang remain silent for so long, the Tokito family grew uneasy.
Even Tanjuro found it strange. After a moment's hesitation, he broke the awkward silence with a smile.
"Mr. Yang, don't you think their names are interesting? The father is Ichiro, and the children are Yuichiro and Muichiro."
Chu Yang smiled. "They are quite interesting."
Seeing him smile, Tokito Ichiro finally relaxed. He then said somewhat awkwardly,
"My wife wanted to come personally to thank you as well, but she's bedridden at the moment…"
"That's fine," Chu Yang replied gently. "A sick person should rest properly."
He remembered clearly—Muichiro's mother suffered from a very severe lung disease. Like Tanjuro, she didn't have long to live.
Because they still had a patient to care for at home, the Tokito family didn't stay long.
They had brought gifts—carefully preserved game meat—but Chu Yang accepted only a small portion. Life in the mountains was already hard; he didn't want to deplete their limited food supplies.
After they left, Chu Yang handed the meat to Tanjuro's wife to prepare. With the Tokito family's contribution, dinner became even more abundant.
After the meal, Tanjuro began preparing the attire and props for the Kagura dance.
During this time, Tokito Ichiro returned once more, bringing back the gifts he'd taken home earlier.
"My wife said these must be placed into Mr. Yang's hands, no matter what, so…" Tokito Ichiro scratched his head, his cheeks red from the cold.
Worried he'd catch a chill running back and forth in such weather, Chu Yang finally accepted the gifts.
"I have a friend coming here in a few days to examine Tanjuro. When that happens, you can bring your wife along as well."
Tokito Ichiro's lips trembled with emotion. A thousand words of gratitude welled up inside him, but he didn't know how to voice them.
At that moment, fully prepared, Tanjuro began dancing the Kagura in the courtyard.
The torch in his hand flickered between light and dark, like stars blinking in the night sky. Combined with his graceful movements, it was mesmerizing.
Even watching it again, Chu Yang was quickly drawn in.
Everyone else was the same.
It was Tokito Ichiro's first time seeing the Kagura, yet it felt strangely familiar.
He had never told anyone that he was a swordsman.
Ever since his wife had fallen ill with a serious lung disease, he had spent every day searching for medicine, never once picking up a sword again.
The Kagura awakened memories of his past as a swordsman.
Among the incomplete sword techniques passed down through his family, some movements were strikingly similar to the dance before him.
As he watched, he compared and verified them, a sense of sudden clarity dawning on him.
When Tanjuro finished the dance, everyone was left wanting more.
After hesitating for a while, Tokito Ichiro finally voiced his doubts to Chu Yang and Tanjuro.
"Actually… your family name isn't Tokito. It's Tsugikuni."
Chu Yang told Tokito Ichiro the story of Tsugikuni Yoriichi and Tsugikuni Michikatsu, as well as the origins of Breathing Styles.
He omitted everything related to demons.
Now that Kibutsuji Muzan was dead, there was no need to create unnecessary panic.
"The sword techniques passed down in your family are called Moon Breathing—the first Breathing Style derived from Sun Breathing. Its significance is extraordinary."
The two Tsugikuni brothers were each other's most special existence.
Because the birthmark on his forehead was considered ominous, Yoriichi's childhood was unhappy. His father showed him no affection until his talent revealed itself.
Aside from his mother, only his older brother, Michikatsu, brought him warmth and light.
Even at the moment of his death, he carried the flute Michikatsu had given him.
Even after Michikatsu became a demon, Yoriichi still called him "Brother."
With such deep bonds, Chu Yang firmly believed that the Moon Breathing Yoriichi created for his brother possessed something no other Breathing Style could match.
"Mr. Tokito," Chu Yang said, "could you demonstrate your sword techniques for me?"
He was deeply interested in Moon Breathing.
His battle with Kokushibo had ended in an instant. With overwhelming strength, Chu Yang had crushed him outright, never truly witnessing the essence of Moon Breathing—and that regret lingered.
"Of course, Mr. Yang!" Tokito Ichiro replied happily, rushing home to retrieve a rust-covered katana.
Normally, even unused swords were carefully maintained to prevent corrosion.
Seeing the state of the blade, Chu Yang understood—Tokito Ichiro had truly devoted all these years solely to caring for his wife.
"The sword's in poor condition. Please forgive me," Tokito Ichiro said apologetically.
But once he steadied himself, he began to swing.
At first, his movements were stiff and unfamiliar. But as his focus deepened, the stiffness gradually vanished, replaced by smooth, flowing motions.
His swordplay did resemble Tanjuro's Kagura—but it carried a far sharper killing intent.
Chu Yang observed intently, using his understanding of Sun Breathing to piece together a complete Moon Breathing in his mind.
He could vaguely sense it—
This might be the key to his breakthrough.
Chu Yang didn't call for a stop, so Tokito Ichiro continued practicing again and again, the starting point connecting seamlessly to the end—forming a perfect circle.
Just like the Kagura.
Chu Yang's mind trembled.
The two Breathing Styles merged within his consciousness.
Within the sun, there was the moon.
The addition of Moon Breathing caused Sun Breathing to approach perfection.
Chu Yang inhaled deeply. A brand-new Breathing Style began circulating through his body, bringing an entirely new sensation.
When the white breath left his mouth and nose, it was no longer golden flames—
But a brilliant ribbon of light, like a galaxy.
"This is a new Sun Breathing…" Chu Yang paused, then shook his head. "No—this is no longer Sun Breathing."
"It is… Origin Breathing."
"It can break through limitations, continuously evolve, and allow me to step into an entirely new level of life."
At the same moment, Chu Yangs in other worlds sensed the power of Origin Breathing as well.
Since Kibutsuji Muzan's death, the Demon Slayer Chu Yang's connection to the Soul Palace had grown closer, allowing all other Chu Yangs to instantly share in his transformation.
...
Marvel World.
New York City, Brooklyn.
As the sole hope of his entire village, Chu Yang left his rural hometown and came to the metropolis that countless people dreamed of—New York.
He was here to go to school.
At first, Chu Yang assumed it would be an excellent public high school. Only after arriving did he realize that the school was located in Brooklyn—the poorest and most chaotic district in all of New York.
Once a major gathering place for minorities led primarily by Black communities, Brooklyn had long been subject to regional discrimination. People born here found it extremely difficult to secure jobs elsewhere.
This was New York's least welcome district—densely populated, with a persistently high crime rate.
The moment people heard you were from Brooklyn, they would instinctively cover their mouths and put on a shocked expression.
As if you were a criminal by nature.
In such an environment, schools in Brooklyn were little more than decorations. Rather than saying Chu Yang had come here to study, it would be more accurate to say he had come to kill time.
Even so, the neighbors back in his rural town happily organized a farewell party for him.
Moving to the big city—even the worst district—was still a lifelong dream for many of them.
The high school Chu Yang enrolled in wasn't large at all—certainly more rundown than any high school ever shown in a movie.
"Studying here would just be a waste of time."
Chu Yang stood at the school gate, hesitating for a long while.
In the end, he turned around and left without looking back.
With less than a hundred U.S. dollars to his name, Chu Yang couldn't find a place to live outside Brooklyn.
So he spent fifty dollars at a nearby cheap motel and rented a room.
"The real problem now is how to make some money. I can't just slink back home like this, can I?"
Chu Yang suddenly realized something—
He had so many versions of himself, yet not a single ability related to making money.
"Being law-abiding and making money—you can only pick one."
"Damn it, I'm not even American. Why the hell should I follow American law?"
"Tonight, I'm doing a job."
Using Magical Chu Yang's example of collecting tuition from street punks in London as inspiration, Chu Yang decided it was time to collect some living expenses from the bad guys around here—and maybe improve local public security while he was at it.
After waiting until nightfall in the motel, Chu Yang put on a black trench coat and headed out.
Brooklyn might not match other districts economically, but the nightlife was just as wild.
Neon lights. Decadence everywhere.
Not long after stepping out, Chu Yang ran into several junkies partying wildly on the streets, laughter and shouting echoing in every direction.
A few blocks further, bars started appearing in abundance. Drunkards stumbled around, swearing loudly, vomiting all over the place.
Chu Yang waved his hand in disgust and sneered. "Tsk tsk… the smell of freedom really is everywhere."
Male drunks usually collapsed on the street with no one caring, often getting picked clean by thieves lurking in the shadows.
Female drunks, however, received completely different treatment—surrounded by groups of "nice guys" showing concern. Once they couldn't walk anymore, someone would bend down, hoist them up, and run off.
If it was a wealthy gentleman with a car, he'd toss them straight inside and drive off in a violently rocking vehicle.
Seeing this, Chu Yang couldn't help but sigh. "America really has a lot of good people…"
Just as he was about to pass through this degenerate street, a sharp shout rang out by his ear. A group of tall, muscular Black men blocked his path.
"Hey, yellow monkey, never seen you before. New here? You know the rules around here?"
As they spoke, five or six men surrounded Chu Yang. Two with dreadlocks stood behind him, pressing folding knives against his lower back.
Chu Yang smiled. "What rules? Let's hear them."
The leader froze for a moment. Chu Yang's reaction was completely outside his expectations—normally, people of any race would already be begging.
This was the first time someone had seriously asked him a question back.
The man sneered. "Be smart. Hand over anything valuable you've got."
"I've got fifty bucks on me. You can take it if you want," Chu Yang shrugged, raising both hands. "If you don't believe me, search me yourself."
The leader hesitated, then ordered his men to frisk him.
They checked all his pockets—sure enough, there was nothing but fifty dollars in scattered bills.
Several passersby pretended not to see anything, lowering their heads and hurrying past.
The leader cursed loudly. "Damn broke bastard! That's all you've got? I make more than that at work!"
Chu Yang looked at him sincerely and asked, "What kind of work? Picking cotton?"
"FUCK!!!"
The men exploded with rage and charged at him!
Crack—
The sound of metal snapping.
The two men with dreadlocks looked down at the broken folding knives in their hands, falling into deep thought.
How does a knife break when you stab someone?
When they looked up, all they saw was Chu Yang's friendly smile—and two fists the size of sandbags.
Boom! Boom!
The two men flew backward, slamming into the cold concrete with dull thuds that sounded painful just to hear.
Chu Yang delivered one punch per person.
In the blink of an eye, only the leader remained, holding a tiny switchblade, frozen in place.
A cold wind blew past. He shivered, looking helpless and pitiful.
"You planning to use that little knife to help me trim my nails?" Chu Yang said cheerfully. "I'll pay you fifty bucks—just make it neat, okay?"
The man instantly dropped the knife, clutching his head and squatting on the ground.
"Tsk tsk. New guy—don't you know the rules?"
Chu Yang repeated the man's earlier words. The leader reacted quickly, dumping everything valuable from his pockets onto the ground.
"Get lost."
The men fled as if granted amnesty, dragging their companions away at top speed.
Chu Yang picked up the money and counted it—about nine hundred dollars.
There were also some powdery substances on the ground. Chu Yang crushed them under his foot.
Just as he turned around, a man blocked his path. The man was heavily built, dressed in a well-fitted black suit.
"Well done, kid. Have you had professional boxing training?"
Chu Yang had expected more trouble, but instead he was being praised?
He didn't look like a bad guy.
Chu Yang grinned. "Sir, I've never had any training. Those guys were just trash."
"No training?" The man was surprised. He extended his hand. "Hello, my name's Happy Hogan. Ever considered becoming a professional boxer? I could train you."
Happy?
Tony Stark's bodyguard?
The more Chu Yang looked, the more it fit. No wonder the guy looked so burly.
Before meeting Tony Stark, Happy had indeed been a boxer. Even after retiring, he kept a close eye on the sport.
He still carried dreams of the boxing ring. If he couldn't fulfill them himself, he hoped to do so through someone he trained.
"Mr. Hogan, thank you for the offer, but I'm not interested in boxing," Chu Yang said.
Joking aside—if he stepped into the ring, how many people would die?
"What a shame," Happy sighed. "A talent like you not stepping into boxing is such a waste."
Chu Yang reminded him, "Shouldn't you be doing something else right now? Mr. Stark is still missing, isn't he?"
Happy looked shocked. "You know who I am?"
"I've seen you in the papers," Chu Yang gestured. "You're often standing next to Mr. Stark…"
"Ohhh—" Happy suddenly understood. "You've got sharp eyes and a good memory. You'd make a great bodyguard."
Then, seemingly on a whim, he asked, "Do you have a job? If not, how about coming to work as a bodyguard at Stark Industries?"
Happy figured he could keep Chu Yang close first—once they were on better terms, he could try convincing him to box again.
"I made over nine hundred bucks here in one day," Chu Yang said, shaking the money he'd taken earlier.
"Haha! Don't worry, kid—only more, never less!" Happy winked proudly.
Was there any place in the world with better benefits than Stark Industries?
"Then I'm in!"
"I knew you'd say yes! But hold on—I've got urgent business here tonight."
"No problem. I'm free. I can go with you."
"I like your attitude, kid. If Tony were back, he'd like you too."
Laughing and chatting, the two disappeared around the street corner.
After talking for a while, Chu Yang learned that Happy was here to gather intel about Tony Stark on the black market.
The military was searching for Tony.
But neither Pepper nor Happy—those closest to him—had received any confirmed information.
They decided to stop relying on military channels and try their luck in the black market.
"Follow my lead later, and don't act rashly. You don't know how dangerous the black market is!" Happy warned repeatedly as he led Chu Yang to a bar.
The bouncer at the door looked down on them arrogantly. "Invitation, please."
Happy was caught off guard. "Last time I came, there was no invitation requirement!"
"Rules changed, sir," the bouncer replied impatiently. "Invitation, or leave."
"You rude bastard!"
Happy angrily stepped forward, ready to argue—only to have something dark pressed against his forehead.
Staring at the Desert Eagle aimed between his brows, Happy swallowed hard. "Okay, okay, I was joking. Don't get tense—if that thing goes off, it'll be a big problem."
The bouncer smirked, making no move to lower the gun.
The atmosphere froze.
"Hey, do we really have to go in?"
Chu Yang's carefree voice sounded from behind. Worried about misunderstandings, Happy hurriedly explained, "Gustav's the most well-informed guy in New York's underworld. Only here do we have a chance of hearing about Tony."
"Got it." Chu Yang nodded and stepped toward the bouncer.
The bouncer immediately aimed the gun at him.
Then—
Chu Yang's hand flashed like an afterimage. The bouncer instinctively pulled the trigger—only to realize the Desert Eagle had turned into a pile of parts in his hands.
"WOOOOW!!!" Happy yelled in shock, feeling like he was watching a movie.
Enraged at being toyed with, the bouncer threw a punch at Chu Yang's face.
Chu Yang grabbed his fist.
His fingers locked onto the joints between the knuckles.
Thump!
The bouncer dropped to his knees, pain etched all over his face, as if his hand were about to be crushed.
Chu Yang kicked him hard in the chest. The bouncer flew backward, smashing through the bar's doors and sliding all the way into the center of the dance floor.
The writhing crowd froze instantly. Even the blaring music cut off.
Clatter, clatter, clatter!
Synchronized footsteps replaced the music as countless men in suits poured out of the bar.
Happy tried to run—but Chu Yang grabbed him by the tie.
"It's time to show some real skill, Happy!"
"Huh?"
(End of Chapter)