Roars erupted from the chaotic second floor of the merchants' association.
The men below immediately drew the wakizashi and blades at their waists the moment they heard the commotion.
Yet in the very next second, a figure plummeted heavily from the second floor, slamming straight into the dirt. Blood gushed from his mouth, and it was clear he wouldn't survive.
*Crash!*
The wooden window shattered, and Liu Ren descended from above, driving downward with a raised knee, his eyes brimming with lethal intent.
*Thud!*
His cloth-soled shoes struck the ground, kicking up a plume of dust. Liu Ren rolled his neck, looked around at the surrounding Japanese men, and flashed a cruel smile.
"Bakayarō, korose!"
Roaring in fury, the surrounding Japanese lunged forward, their eyes bloodshot.
Just as one of them swung a katana downward in a wide arc, Liu Ren caught his wrist with a backhand grip and gave it a violent twist, instantly forcing him to his knees in agony.
*Thump! Thump! Thump!*
A barrage of heavy punches smashed into the man's face, instantly battering him into a bloody pulp.
Wrenching the blade from his grip, Liu Ren slashed it single-handedly across the face of another man charging in.
"Aaargh!"
A shrill scream pierced the air as the man wailed in pain.
Flicking his toe, Liu Ren kicked up another katana lying on the ground. Grasping a blade in each hand, he grinned ferociously. "If we can't talk it out, then we fight! Let's show these bastards who their fucking daddy is!"
Hearing Liu Ren's shout, the men of He'an broke into excited grins.
They had long resented the increasingly arrogant Japanese, and now that they had a hard-nosed leader at the front, how could they not be thrilled?
Stepping forward with twin blades in hand, Liu Ren wielded them in a blur, slashing with the fluid fury of a butterfly darting through blossoms.
Terror twisted the faces of the Japanese gang members. Seeing the wolfish, ravenous way Liu Ren carved clean through their ranks, they began to scream in fright.
Liu Ren, however, had no intention of giving them a chance to plead for mercy. Manhattan was only so big; every scrap more these people took was a scrap less for his own compatriots. How could he tolerate that?
Today, Liu Ren wasn't just going to butcher this arrogant gang; he was going to sweep through the surrounding streets and claim them all for Chinatown.
And along the way, he would show them that the Chinese had never been the Sick Men of East Asia!
The terrified screams soon drew attention from all around.
When people on the street saw the panicked Japanese men fleeing in frantic disarray, pursued by a young man brandishing twin blades, cold sweat broke out across their foreheads.
It wasn't that they had never witnessed vendettas between street syndicates, but who could have imagined seeing such a primitive clash of cold steel right here in Manhattan?
*Whistle!*
"Hey, freeze! Drop the blades, kid!"
Just as Liu Ren chased the Japanese from one end of the street to the other, and then bolted from the end of the block toward the next street over, the patrolling detectives finally arrived.
Glancing at the detectives not far away, Liu Ren wheeled around and bolted, ducking into an alley without a second thought.
A younger detective moved to give chase, but the older inspector beside him grabbed his arm. "Hey, are you out of your mind? You're actually going after him?"
"Sir, aren't we going to arrest him?" the detective asked, looking at his superior in confusion.
"Are you crazy?"
Staring blankly at the rookie, the inspector snapped, "He's a madman. Are you one, too? What if he turns around and sticks a blade through you?"
With that, the inspector patted the young man's shoulder. "This is New York. You've got a lot to learn, kid. Got it?"
The young man stared back, baffled.
He had no idea that this was his senior passing on the art of survival. In New York, the truly ruthless syndicates didn't give a damn whether you wore a detective's badge or not!
Back at the chaotic Japanese merchants' association, the interior was already a ruined wreck.
When the arriving detectives took in the scene, their brows furrowed.
They had vastly underestimated the Chinese man responsible—they could hardly find a single body in the room intact enough to piece back together.
"Good God Almighty! This guy is completely insane! The only one left in one piece died from having his throat crushed and suffocating!"
An older detective stepped forward, checked Shimura's body, and shrugged.
Hearing that, several detectives frowned deeply. This was no ordinary case.
Just then, a young detective walked inside. "Inspector James, there's a Chinese man outside who wants to see you."
"A Chinese man?"
Frowning in puzzlement, James adjusted his badge and walked outside.
The moment he saw Liu Ren, drenched in a palpable aura of blood, his face hardened. "Young man, are you here to turn yourself in?"
"No, Mr. James. I'm here on behalf of He'an to send our regards."
Smiling pleasantly at James, Liu Ren pulled a thick envelope from his pocket. "Inside is ten thousand dollars. Consider it our donation to the precinct for a high-temperature allowance."
"A high-temperature allowance?"
James stared blankly at Liu Ren, completely taken aback. What kind of new term was this? He had never heard of such a thing.
"Working in heat like this to protect the citizens of New York truly commands respect. We hold you in high esteem!"
Handing the envelope over with polite deference, Liu Ren smiled warmly. "We hope you will accept our friendship. After all, we Chinese are the most honest, kindhearted folk you'll find."
James fixed Liu Ren with a searching look. Instead of taking the envelope right away, he stared at him. "Ten thousand dollars? Heh! For that kind of money, the most my men and I can give you is permission to make a little noise at night."
"Thank you for your generosity!"
Nodding to James, Liu Ren said nothing more. He offered a polite salute and turned to leave.
Watching Liu Ren's retreating figure, James tapped the thick envelope in his grip, a smirk touching the corner of his mouth.
In this day and age, there were men who did things by the book, but none of them worked in the police department.
The rise of the Mafia had everything to do with people like them.
In an era when daily wages were only two or three dollars, how much could a man earn in a year? Why lay his life on the line?
Did anyone truly believe being a detective was some noble calling? Risking a bullet on the street for wages that couldn't even buy a decent coffin—anyone with half a brain knew how to choose.
Having concluded a friendly understanding with James, Liu Ren turned back into the alley.
When A Chao, reeking of murderous tension, saw him return, he blurted out, "How did it go?"
"No problem. All taken care of. Inspector James knows which way the wind blows."
Flashing a brilliant smile, Liu Ren pulled out a cigarette and struck a match.
Seeing his relaxed demeanor, A Chao said excitedly, "We made out like bandits this time. But if the Japanese come back for payback, we're in for real trouble!"
"Think I'll give them the chance to hit back?"
Liu Ren gave A Chao a meaningful look, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes.
He knew very well that wiping out one merchants' association wouldn't solve the problem. But what if he wiped out all the people who made the problem in the first place?
Uncle Qing was steady and cautious, but here, caution alone solved nothing.
He'an needed an iron-fisted leader now, and an upright, kindhearted man like Liu Ren was the perfect candidate!
After all, in the whole of Chinatown, who was better at winning people over with the virtue of an axe than him?
If the Mafia could forge a century of glory here, why couldn't they?
Starting from here, he would spread his power across all of Europe and become the true King of Europe!
Looking at the youthful face beside him, A Chao had no idea why, but he felt with absolute certainty that there was something deeply, profoundly wrong with this kid!
Chapter 16