Chapter 59: Let Me Show You Something

“Kid, I’m just tryin’ to make a livin’ here. You lookin’ for trouble?”

A hulking man over two meters tall, his face rough and meaty, stood glaring at Fang Cheng with vicious eyes.

“You slash my five grand down to two hundred? Ain’t nobody in Tokyo haggles like you! How ‘bout I use this blade to *show* you some real slashin’?”

He yanked a knife from nearby, its pale edge catching the lights with an icy glint.

Fang Cheng calmly inspected the compressed file the man had sent to his phone before meeting his gaze. “We agreed on two thousand for the documents. Now you demand five? Scamming students now? Two hundred’s more than you deserve.”

“Two thousand was the *deposit*! You didn’t listen!”

The man hacked his knife into a nearby table, the blade cutting deep into the wood. “Now it’s ten grand! Pay up tonight or you’re sellin’ your ass at the docks to pay me back!”

Fang Cheng’s expression soured instantly.

“A guy like me? I’d be top host at Tokyo’s hottest club. Wealthy ladies’d be shovin’ cash down my pants. You wanna stick me in some back-alley brothel? Ever heard of good business? How much you think ass-sellin’ even pays?”

The thug blinked, momentarily swayed by the logic—the kid *was* stupidly handsome.

But he soon flushed red, snarling, “You mockin’ me?!”

He lunged, swinging a fist like a meat cleaver at Fang Cheng’s face.

…

Ten minutes later, the thug lay battered on the floor, trembling hands offering a wad of cash.

“B-boss… Money’s hard-earned… Take it and go, please…”

Fang Cheng didn’t push further. But before leaving, he stabbed the knife into the man’s rear.

“With that face, you’d starve as a host. Stick to brothels. Consider this a free lesson—makes ass-sellin’ easier.”

This was Tokyo’s underbelly—a sewer where vermin schemed in shadows, their lives meaningless.

Long-time gutter rats usually sniffed out who to avoid. Yet they’d mistaken Fang Cheng’s harmless smile for weakness.

He’d been clueless about this world before. But Takeda Masumi’s training covered intelligence gathering, including shady means of information trade.

With both documents and extra cash secured, Fang Cheng rode his motorcycle home, grinning.

*Maybe I should hunt more monsters and lowlifes. Easy money.*

Bit by bit, financial freedom neared.

Imagining cash avalanches, he burst into song:

“Deja vu! I’ve just been in this place before—”

“Kachii dake! Touch my underwear—”

His off-key bellowing drew stares.

Back home, Fang Cheng transferred the file to his computer. It required clunky decompression software—a crude encryption method.

The process demanded paid membership, endless redirects, and verification codes on every page. Pure agony.

After tedious effort, the file finally opened.

Inside were the family background of Morishita Yamato and details about all household members.

After reviewing the documents, things matched Fang Cheng’s initial guess. Morishita Yamato had connections that made Kashima High School sweep his teacher assault incident under the rug.

Father Morishita Kengo started as a gangster in his youth, earning his first fortune through illegal means before laundering his image to enter construction. He still maintained shady ties while currently campaigning for district councilor to shift from business to politics.

Mother Morishita Sayuri came from a prestigious business family. After marrying Kengo, she established a cosmetic surgery hospital that expanded into a chain brand now preparing for stock market listing.

Morishita Yamato, their only child, resembled a muscle-bound ape.

The rotten apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Kengo still had multiple unsolved murders linked to him, while his construction firms specialized in forced demolitions and arson – textbook criminal enterprises drowning in lawsuits.

Sayuri’s hospitals faced numerous malpractice scandals and patient suicides, yet thrived through aggressive PR.

The son inherited his parents’ worst traits – violent temper, vicious nature, and willingness to hire hitmen despite his youth.

One might say his family upbringing excelled at cultivating criminal tendencies.

The purchased documents even clearly listed Yamato’s home address.

Dealing with the entire Morishita clan would be straightforward.

Not just Yamato alone – Fang Cheng refused to play whack-a-mole with vengeful parents and relatives.

This turn-based revenge nonsense exhausted him. Better to wipe the slate clean.

Morally and legally, executing this trio dozens of times over would still be justified. Though Yamato’s crimes were lesser, his parents’ death sentences could cover his share.

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Every gangster-turned-bodyguard or thug in their employ deserved equal punishment.

Physical elimination posed no dilemma – the challenge lay in remaining undetected.

Previously, Kanzaki Rin’s government connections had cleaned up his messes. But involving the “wealthy lady” now risked exposure.

Handling ordinary targets stealthily was feasible, but the Morishitas’ security details and alert systems made secrecy impossible.

Yamato’s current lockdown at home eliminated kidnapping opportunities.

Time pressed urgently – once Morishita sent watchers to Fang Cheng’s residence, his survival would be exposed.

A permanent solution needed immediate crafting.

……

Underground Training Ground No. 5

“Kid, why the spaced-out act lately?”

Post-training, Fang Cheng sat resting with Takeda Masumi. Kanzaki Rin had left early on other business.

Masumi gulped water and passed her cup to Fang Cheng. His distracted mid-session moments hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Fang Cheng drank without fussing over indirect kisses. His throat’s curve and sharp profile stirred Masumi’s parched mouth again.

“Just some headaches,” he shrugged, mind still churning over stealthy elimination methods.

Masumi slung an arm around his shoulders like a buddy. “Spill. Maybe I can help.”

“Private business. The shady kind.” Fang Cheng shook her off.

“Private?” Masumi’s finger hooked his chin, lips nearing his. “Overdoing self-care? Need help relieving… tension?”

Her breath mingled with his as wandering fingers traced his collarbone.