Chapter 28: Uproar (Part Two)

Fujiyama Ken felt a chill run down his spine. These matters were no secret in Japan, but why would a soldier from a "hostile nation" be interested in them? What kind of scheme was behind this?

As he pondered the man's identity, Fujiyama suddenly realized a point he had overlooked: why did the man tacitly accept his own identity instead of immediately refuting it? This was Japan, after all. Unless they were launching an all-out war, wouldn't a small special operations team—no matter how elite—fear being exposed, surrounded by a massive army, and slaughtered to the last man?

Not to mention being surrounded by the military or a large force of police; even his own Dragon Society, with tens of thousands of members, could drown the intruder in spit alone if every member took a single turn!

Unless... unless the man had already made up his mind to kill him and leave no witnesses the moment he obtained what he wanted!

Fujiyama's heart sank to the bottom of a well. What exactly did the man want from him?

Evidence of the syndicate's crimes? Yes, the Dragon Society was the largest criminal organization in Japan, involved in pornography, entertainment, money laundering, financial fraud, drug trafficking, murder, and rape—they did it all. But why would a soldier from an enemy nation want this?

The syndicate's funds? As the head of Japan's largest gang, Fujiyama had overseen a rapid expansion of their financial power in recent years, with the organization's assets now exceeding 80 billion US dollars. But for the man to cross the sea just for this amount of money—wouldn't the cost-to-benefit ratio be far too low?

Or perhaps, evidence of his collusion with politicians, especially Prime Minister Kishi Nobusaku? That was not impossible. But the question remained: what use would they have for it? To blackmail the Prime Minister? How ridiculous. The entire Japanese public knew full well that politicians and gangs were in bed together; it was no surprise. Decades ago, the media had even published photos of a former Prime Minister drinking and laughing with the Fifth Boss of the Dragon Society. But so what? It was nothing more than fodder for the masses to gossip about over tea, causing not even the slightest ripple.

"No, whatever he wants, I cannot let him get his way!" The ruthlessness cultivated over years of ruling the syndicate surged from the depths of his heart. An indomitable spirit, born of a refusal to die in defeat, forced Fujiyama’s hunched back to straighten. He glared at the young man with his small, narrow eyes, glowing with the green light of a cornered wolf.

In that moment, he felt his courage transcend his inner cowardice. His eyes darted around, considering if there was any chance to launch a fatal counterattack against the young man.

But the moment the thought crossed his mind, the young man flipped his wrist, and the dark, hollow muzzle of a gun pointed directly at his forehead.

"Mr. Fujiyama, I suggest you do not attempt to resist, or I wouldn't mind finishing you off right now," the young man said calmly. "Furthermore, I can tell you quite responsibly that before my comrade left, he planted a large amount of high-grade explosives throughout your castle. According to him, those explosives are enough to instantly turn this castle into a sea of fire and rubble. Your corpses won't even leave behind a scrap of residue!"

Even though he had anticipated something, hearing the man openly and bluntly declare that he would blow up his castle still sent a chill straight to Fujiyama's brain. The courage he had just mustered vanished in an instant.

Amidst the dizzying, dreamlike sensation of his emotions rising and falling, Fujiyama heard that calm, cold voice speak without a shred of sentiment: "I waited for you to wake up only so you could die knowing the truth. Decades ago, the Dragon Society provided intelligence and special personnel to help the Japanese government launch its invasion of our country, leaving 30 million of our soldiers and civilians dead under your blades! In recent decades, you have sent large numbers of gangsters and intelligence agents into our country to traffic drugs, engage in prostitution, disrupt our financial order, spy on our military secrets, conduct illegal mapping, and support separatist forces, all of which has seriously affected our national security!"

The young man raised his voice, emphasizing every word: "You owe a debt that must be repaid!"

"You owe a debt that must be repaid!" The six words struck Fujiyama's heart like a heavy iron hammer, making his head buzz.

"Killing you is just the beginning. Next, we will launch a fierce offensive that will plunge your entire country into chaos!" Fujiyama looked up, stunned, only to see the look of contempt on the young man's face. "Look at your Prime Minister's face. He doesn't care about your national security; he is clearly using this opportunity to resurrect militarism. He is clearly moving toward fascism, attempting to challenge the just international order formed after the war! But I can tell you this: only six of us came this time. And these six people alone will make you see clearly that your supposedly powerful Self-Defense Force is vulnerable! Your society, which you think is wealthy and prosperous, is vulnerable! Your self-righteous Bushido is vulnerable!"

The voice seemed to possess a strange, magical power. Fujiyama's head felt dazed, and the unabashed scorn and mockery on the young man's face stung his heart deeply.

He knew, as every Japanese person knew in their heart, that the powerful neighbor across the sea was a sleeping dragon. Once it erupted with its fury and power, the tiny, pellet-sized Japanese island nation would face nothing but the fate of annihilation! For over a hundred years, the Empire had been committed to preventing the resurgence of this dragon. Yet, during the brutal eight-year war decades ago, the perceived weakness of that neighbor had instilled in them an instinctive sense of contempt.

This mixture of fear and disdain appeared so sensitive and helpless in the face of the Republic's unstoppable rise.

Fear, contempt, worry, and anger—Fujiyama felt as if his heart were about to explode from the sheer weight of these emotions. An inexplicable agitation made him scream hysterically: "You are the ones who are vulnerable! My Empire of Japan has a developed economy and strong national power! We will never tolerate the bullying of foreign races!"

The sneer on the young man's face grew deeper. He said with disdain, "Developed economy? Strong national power? In your tiny, pellet-sized land, how much strategic depth do you have? How many people do you have compared to our vast nation of 1.5 billion? A few nuclear bombs would wipe you out!"

Fujiyama, now even more agitated and furious, roared, "My hundreds of millions of imperial subjects would rather be shattered as jade than remain intact as tile! What does 1.5 billion matter? As long as we establish a powerful government and the people unite, we will shock the world! We will see who ends up in mutual destruction, leaving nothing behind!"

The young man also grew angry. "This is fascism! This is militarism! Your insane actions will only lead to your ultimate destruction!"

Seeing the young man seemingly provoked into a rage by his retorts, Fujiyama momentarily forgot his own predicament. He let out a cold, mocking laugh, imitating the young man's tone of scorn. "So what if it's fascism? So what if it's militarism? In this world, the strong rule. The only ones who will perish are you—especially you so-called elites. Your so-called fierce attacks are nothing but self-destruction and self-humiliation..."

Before he could finish, Fujiyama suddenly noticed that the angry expression on the young man's face had vanished without a trace, replaced by a relaxed smile. The man even began to clap lightly. "Well said, well said. The expression, the tone, the words—almost perfect... Thank you, Mr. Fujiyama..."

"What do you mean?" Fujiyama was completely unable to understand what the man was talking about, but he would never have the chance to find out. In the next second, a figure blurred before his eyes, and Fujiyama felt a heavy blow to the back of his neck. He fell backward without a sound. In his fading consciousness, he heard the young man say calmly, "When you reach the underworld, remember my name. I am Lei Dong..."

As Fujiyama collapsed, Lei Dong's expression turned serious. With a flick of his wrist, a compact digital recorder appeared in his hand. He opened his military laptop and transmitted the file from the recorder.

"B2, release the recording as planned in ten minutes!" Lei Dong said in a low voice over the encrypted channel of his communicator.

"Understood!" Bei Shiliang's voice echoed in the earpiece, tinged with excitement.