Chapter 555

Chapter 555 A Spectacular Death!

A thin, frail old man in a kimono sat cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed in quiet repose.

Behind him hung two flags.

One was the widely recognized but ill-reputed Rising Sun flag, and the other was a completely black flag bearing two crossed samurai blades.

The blade flag — the emblem of the Yamamoto Group!

And the old man seated before those flags was none other than the founder of the Yamamoto Group — Yamamoto Taichiro!

“Master, Master, something’s wrong!”

At that moment, a young man came rushing in frantically. In his panic, he failed to notice the threshold beneath his feet and tripped, falling flat on his face right in front of Yamamoto Taichiro!

Old Yamamoto opened his slightly clouded eyes and gave this normally composed subordinate a cold look, saying flatly, “Slap yourself. Twenty times.”

“Master, I truly have urgent news to report, something terrible has happened…” the young subordinate tried to argue.

In his mind, although Yamamoto Taichiro was strict — even harsh — with those under him, this was a matter of life and death for the Yamamoto Group. What was the point of slapping himself now? Had the old man lost his mind?

But before he could finish, Yamamoto Taichiro cut him off: “Slap yourself. Fifty times.”

“No, Master…”

“One hundred times.” Yamamoto Taichiro closed his eyes. “Stumbling in like a fool, panicked and disrespectful — finish slapping yourself, then speak.”

A flash of indignation crossed the young subordinate’s eyes, but he could say nothing. He could only kneel to the side in sullen resignation and begin slapping himself alternately with both hands.

He knew all too well that he couldn’t hold back when slapping himself — otherwise the consequences would be far worse.

As the saying goes, serving a ruler is like living beside a tiger. Many people envied those who could stand at the boss’s side, but only those who did it knew the misery and bitterness it entailed.

The sharp slapping sounds echoed through the room, enough to make anyone’s heart tremble. Old Yamamoto kept his eyes closed, not even a single eyelash twitching.

By the time the hundred slaps were done, the young subordinate’s face had swollen up like a pig’s head. His eyes were puffy slits, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth — he was barely recognizable.

“Now you may speak. What has reduced you to this state?” Yamamoto Taichiro opened his eyes.

“Master… something has happened in China…”

The subordinate, dizzy from his own beating, mumbled out the words.

“What happened?” Yamamoto Taichiro remained as still as stagnant water. Ever since his son had been taken and the headquarters building had been rammed down, he had worn this expression almost without change.

The Yamamoto Group had been humiliated on a global scale — this grudge could not go unanswered.

Yamamoto Taichiro had already made up his mind: if he ever got his hands on Su Rui, he would have him publicly beheaded, and the video of the beheading would be broadcast everywhere for all to see!

He wanted the entire world to know what fate awaited those who crossed the Yamamoto Group!

“Apparently… apparently Lord Inamoto Junichi and the two hundred men he led… were completely wiped out in China…” As the young subordinate recalled the matter, his mind gradually cleared.

“Completely wiped out? How is that possible! This is Inamoto Junichi we’re talking about!”

Yamamoto Taichiro shot to his feet, grabbing the young subordinate by the collar. “How could Inamoto Junichi be dead! How could they be completely wiped out! Are you sure you have this right!”

The subordinate trembled as he spoke: “Master, there is no mistake. The information has been confirmed. With the exception of a few personnel left behind, every single one of our elite fighters in China has been killed!”

“Baka!”

Fury written across his face, Yamamoto Taichiro snatched the long blade from the low table and slashed it down at the young subordinate!

A streak of blood instantly splattered across the white paper sliding door — a horrifying sight!

“Impossible, impossible, this can’t be…”

That single slash seemed to have drained every last ounce of Yamamoto Taichiro’s strength. He planted the blade on the floor to prop himself up, his entire body trembling!

“How can this be, how can this be!”

Yamamoto Taichiro raised the long blade and hacked wildly around the room! The entire space was left in shambles!

Only after venting did he gradually calm down, collapsing onto the floor in a heap, gasping for breath.

The ninjas and samurai sent to China were the cream of the Yamamoto Group’s elite — Yamamoto Taichiro had invested enormous resources in training them. If they had been completely wiped out, the losses were simply incalculable!

Adding the five hundred-plus men who had previously died under Yamamoto Jizhan’s command, the Yamamoto Group had now lost nearly eight hundred elite fighters in China!

But that was not what pained Yamamoto Taichiro the most. Inamoto Junichi had fought alongside him for years, serving as his right-hand man, forging one undefeated legend after another — invincible in every battle. And yet even such a figure had died in China!

Most critically of all, with Inamoto Junichi dead, who was left to rescue Yamamoto Jizhan?

At this moment, Yamamoto Taichiro still had no idea that his most beloved youngest son, Yamamoto Jizhan, had already been blown to pieces!

If he had known, what kind of expression would have crossed his face?

Just then, a middle-aged man hurried into the room. When he caught sight of the subordinate who had been cut down, a faint look of shock flickered in his eyes. “Father, I have something to report to you.”

“I know.” Yamamoto Taichiro didn’t look up, his voice hoarse.

“You already know? Then let’s go to the conference room quickly.” The middle-aged man said. He was Yamamoto Taichiro’s second son, Yamamoto Yusei — a man who carried himself with a refined, scholarly air that seemed oddly out of place with the Yamamoto Group’s gangster character.

Compared to his bloodthirsty younger brother Yamamoto Jizhan, Yamamoto Yusei was, much like his name suggested, a model student through and through.

“Go to the conference room? For what?” Yamamoto Taichiro raised his head, his eyes tinged with red.

Seeing this, Yamamoto Yusei realized his father had misunderstood, and quickly said, “There’s a video call coming in from China — they specifically asked to speak with you.”

“A video call from China?”

A sharp gleam lit up Yamamoto Taichiro’s eyes. “Who wants to video call me?”

“I’m not sure. Only that the other party claims to know news about your younger brother.” Yamamoto Yusei said. “And the fact that they were able to patch the video directly into the Yamamoto Group’s headquarters suggests they have considerable capability.”

Before he could finish, he saw Yamamoto Taichiro rise to his feet, grip the still-bloodied long blade, and storm furiously toward the conference room!

In the headquarters conference room, two rows of people in black suits were already standing. Among them were five women — all daughters of Yamamoto Taichiro. In the business of producing offspring, this crime boss was truly above average.

“Father, the video is connected. Whenever you’re ready, both sides can begin the call.”

Yamamoto Yusei guided Yamamoto Taichiro to the chair at the head of the conference table, his expression grave.

He glanced at his silent father, then looked up at his brothers and sisters, and gave a nod.

If Yamamoto Taichiro had not wanted to take the call, he would never have come to the conference room in the first place!

Once the video connected, Yamamoto Taichiro’s gaze instantly sharpened.

Because a man appeared on the screen.

That man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, facing away from the camera.

The lighting in the room was dim, making it look as though he stood in a vast, dark void, with a faint beam of white light falling upon him.

From a purely visual standpoint, the way this man made his entrance was genuinely striking — it had the feel of a Hollywood blockbuster.

Yet even without seeing his face, Yamamoto recognized him at once!

Over these past days, he had stared at this man’s image more times than he could count!

Su Rui!

It was him — the one who had wiped out the five hundred elite fighters led by Yamamoto Jizhan in China!

It was him — the one who had flown a plane into the Yamamoto Group’s headquarters building and brought it down!

It was him — the one who had killed Inamoto Junichi, the national treasure-level jonin of the East!

If not for Su Rui, how could the Yamamoto Group have been disgraced and mocked by the entire world?

“Aah!”

Yamamoto Taichiro erupted in fury, let out a roar, raised the long blade, and brought it crashing down onto the conference table in front of him!

At that moment, Su Rui turned to face the camera. Seeing Yamamoto’s reaction, he broke into a contemptuous smile.

His outfit looked somewhat unusual — black combat boots on his feet, and a form-fitting crimson military uniform reminiscent of medieval England, with golden tassels hanging from the epaulettes!

Su Rui held a mask in his hand the entire time, not wearing it. The mask was gold, its design strikingly simple — just enough to cover the eye sockets — somewhat resembling the mask of the European medieval swordsman “Zorro”!

Yamamoto Yusei lowered his voice and said to his younger sister Yamamoto Aoba beside him, “Why does his outfit look familiar to me, like I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

Yamamoto Aoba said with a cold laugh, “Where else would you have seen it? In the 18th and 19th centuries, British soldiers all looked exactly like that!”

“No, there’s still something a little different.” Yamamoto Yusei said, lost in thought.

“Mr. Yamamoto Taichiro, if I’m not mistaken, this should be our first meeting. Why is it that our first encounter isn’t exactly a friendly one — you seem quite angry?”

Su Rui’s smile only provoked Yamamoto Taichiro further. He gripped the handle of the long blade with one hand, struggling to suppress the rage within him, and said coldly, “Where is Yamamoto Jizhan?”

“Why do you only ask me about Yamamoto Jizhan, and not about Inamoto Junichi?”

Su Rui shifted his gaze away from Yamamoto Taichiro’s face with an easy smile and addressed the others in the conference room: “You see, this is the master you lay down your lives for. He only cares where his own son is — he has no concern whatsoever for whether those two hundred-plus samurai sent to China are alive or dead!”

Everyone else in the conference room watched Su Rui in silence, saying nothing.

“Trying to stir up dissent here will get you nowhere.” Yamamoto Taichiro said coldly. “I’ll ask you one more time — where is Yamamoto Jizhan!”

“Mr. Yamamoto, if you had behaved yourself from the start and shown good faith — come to China with something to offer in exchange — Yamamoto Jizhan might well have been safely home by now.” Su Rui toyed with the golden mask in his hand, smiling pleasantly. “But not only did you fail to do that, you sent a whole contingent of ninjas into China and even took my sister hostage.”

At this, Su Rui paused. The warmth had all but drained from his smile. “So your precious son is dead — died spectacularly, blown sky-high by five kilograms of C-4 explosives.”