Chapter 627
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Chapter 627: The Group Leader
Kyoto.
In the darkness of the night, the remote mountains are outlined in vague contours under the moonlight. On the winding mountain road, a black Hummer weaves through the dim streetlights, heading towards the peak of the mountains.
It’s unclear how long they have been driving when a pitch-black iron gate appears in the bright headlights. Several figures in black stand in front of the gate, unmoving like rocks, despite the car’s lights shining on them.
The Hummer obediently stops in front of the iron gate. The leading figure in black approaches the car and speaks softly, “Identification.”
The rear window of the Hummer rolls down, and Ken Asakura looks into the man’s eyes, presenting his nameplate.
“Deputy Leader of the Black Kill Group, Leader of the Yamamoto Group in Osaka, Ken Asakura.”
“What brings you here?”
“To see the Group Leader; there are matters that require his decision.”
The man carefully compares Asakura’s appearance with the nameplate, nods, returns the nameplate, steps back, and bows deeply.
“Please.”
Under the night sky, the black iron gate slowly opens, and the figures blocking the entrance step aside, creating a path. Asakura presses the gas pedal, and the vehicle swiftly drives towards the luxurious mansion at the mountain’s summit.
A few minutes later, the vehicle stops at the mansion’s front entrance. The driver gets out to open the door for Asakura, who solemnly adjusts his attire and walks towards the mansion with the driver and an assistant.
The Group Leader he is about to meet is the third leader of the Black Kill Group since its establishment and a legendary figure in the Japanese underworld.
A year ago, the underworld in the Kansai region was like a scattered pile of sand. Although there were many powerful gangs, they were all preoccupied with territorial disputes and industrial development, failing to form any significant force. Compared to the two super families in the Kanto region, they were merely a group of insignificant shrimp.
At that time, the Black Kill Group was just one of the three major gangs in Kyoto. While it held some status in the underworld, it was limited to that.
It was during this period that the Group Leader emerged from nowhere, transforming from an ordinary thug into a force that swept away the other two major gangs in Kyoto, propelling the Black Kill Group to become the number one gang in the city.
This suddenly appearing young man caught the attention of the second-generation Group Leader, who quickly promoted him to a high-ranking position within the Black Kill Group. Once he had status within the group, he unleashed his potential, leading a small band of followers to break through the large gangs in other regions of Kansai, causing the Black Kill Group’s status to soar like a rocket, ultimately becoming the leader of the Kansai underworld.
Two months ago, the second-generation Group Leader passed away due to illness and designated this young man as the third-generation Group Leader of the Black Kill Group, a decision widely supported by the members.
Ken Asakura had only met this Group Leader twice: once a year ago when he led a team to Osaka to dismantle the Yamamoto Group, and once during the ceremony when he ascended to the position of Group Leader. The aura of a leader in the underworld that radiated from him was something Asakura could never forget.
As he pondered what to say when he met the Group Leader, Asakura arrived at a closed Japanese door.
“Please enter.” The man leading the way gestured for Asakura to go in.
Asakura adjusted his attire one last time, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.
Behind the door was a spacious hall, with tatami mats covering the floor. On both sides of the room, over two hundred men and women knelt in neat rows. The men wore black kimonos, while the women donned black long-sleeved kimonos, white socks, and wooden clogs, all calmly gazing at Asakura as he entered.
In the center of the hall sat a young man draped in a flowing garment symbolizing the Group Leader’s status. He casually sat there, a cigarette dangling from his lips, holding an old silver lighter in his hand, gently igniting the tip of the cigarette.
The flickering flame lit the cigarette, and he took a puff, exhaling a cloud of hazy smoke as his sharp, deep-set eyes narrowed slightly.
On his right hand, he wore two rings: one black and one white, on his middle and ring fingers, respectively.
The moment Asakura’s gaze met that of the young man, his heart trembled slightly. It was the same look the young man had when he led his team to dismantle the Yamamoto Group in Osaka…
He steadied his emotions, stepped forward to the center of the hall, and half-knelt on the ground.
“Deputy Leader of the Black Kill Group, Leader of the Yamamoto Group, Ken Asakura, pays his respects to the Group Leader.”
The young man, still holding the cigarette, silently watched him, showing no intention of speaking. The atmosphere in the hall was dead silent and oppressive.
In this deathly silence, Asakura felt his psychological pressure increase again. He sensed the young man’s piercing gaze, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.
“Group Leader, I have come to report a matter to you. A few days ago, the Kanto region’s Kanagawa family sent someone…”
Asakura half-knelt on the ground, recounting the entire situation in detail. The hall was filled only with his voice as he narrated.
Amidst the hazy smoke, the young man, cigarette in mouth, exuded a faint aura of royal authority as he quietly listened to Asakura’s account…
…
Shen Qingzhu was feeling quite frustrated.
He couldn’t understand a word of what the man kneeling on the ground was saying.
It had been over a year since he arrived in this strange place. Reflecting on the situation back then, Shen Qingzhu still felt confused. He had no idea how everything had inexplicably developed to this point.
…
A year ago.
Shen Qingzhu woke up on the coast of Yokohama, dazedly surveying his surroundings.
His feelings at that time were similar to Lin Qiye’s—he didn’t know what had happened, why he was here, or what this strange place was…
However, it was nighttime, and after drifting ashore, no one noticed him. He wandered into the city, bewildered by the neon signs and various incomprehensible characters, lost in thought…
He remembered that during training camp, the instructor had mentioned this kind of culture, but he had never paid attention in that class, so he couldn’t recall anything.
Fortunately, the people here looked somewhat like him, allowing him to blend in without anyone noticing his oddity. He roamed around the city for half a day, and when he grew tired, he returned to the coast to smoke. Just as he used his Qi to spark a flame, he felt a gaze probing from the void, frantically searching for him.
For a cocky guy with an undercover background, caution was the first priority for survival in an unfamiliar environment. The moment he sensed that gaze, he immediately halted the operation of his forbidden techniques and sat still for over ten minutes.
Once the gaze left and he confirmed it wouldn’t return, he quickly left the coast, even sneaking into a moving truck to escape the city.
What he didn’t know was that just minutes after he left, an oracle messenger arrived at the coast, searching for his traces.
