Chapter 142: The Price

——Kuki Muen.

He was actually a child picked up by the previous leader of Huanzang Style. With half-foreign blood, he stood out starkly from other children his age, towering over them.

Abandoned by his mother at an orphanage while still an infant, he became one of the many mixed-race orphans. Back then, the war had just ended, plunging the nation into a great depression. Many women, desperate to survive, became “pan-pan girls” catering primarily to American military soldiers. Undoubtedly, Kuki Muen was born from such a union.

Around six or seven, mistreated at the orphanage, he escaped and encountered the Huanzang Style leader, who took him in as a disciple. Kuki Muen proved a martial arts prodigy, mastering skills effortlessly, a genius among geniuses.

“And then he became a traitor… right?”

——What a cliché and melodramatic story. Fang Jing voiced his thoughts; even without hearing the rest, he could guess the plot.

“Yes. He apparently betrayed Huanzang Style over something, slaughtering every other disciple in the sect—his own close friends. He even murdered his own master…” Killing fellow disciples and one’s master was an unforgivable crime in any ancient martial tradition, condemned by the entire martial world.

Kume Nansho was the sole survivor of that disaster. Strictly speaking, he hadn’t been at the Huanzang dojo; plus, his strength then surpassed Kuki Muen’s. Had he been present, things might have unfolded differently. Witnessing his sect’s destruction, Kume Nansho vowed to personally kill this junior brother. He hunted Kuki Muen across half of Japan, finally inflicting severe injuries that forced Kuki to flee the country. Yet, all this happened over thirty years ago.

“Mr. Kume should return today, though I don’t know where he is…” Higashi Yuantai put his black sunglasses back on, covering the scar on his face. “Also, he asked me to give you some things…”

“What things?”

Fang Jing stared blankly as Higashi handed him a large envelope.

“You’ll understand once you look inside.”

Hearing this, Fang Jing opened the envelope without hesitation. Inside were a passport, cash, credit cards, forged documents, and a letter addressed to him. Pulling it out, Fang Jing saw it was from Kume Nansho.

Kume apologized profusely, fearing he had dragged Fang Jing into peril. Half the reason Kuki Muen had crossed the ocean back to Japan was targeting Fang Jing. The other half was likely expanding the influence of the Black Devourer Syndicate, where Kuki served as chief enforcer. Thus, Kume felt compelled to confront him once more.

The two had agreed to meet at a specific location, settling their decades-old feud in a duel to the death.

“Another goal of Kuki Muen’s was to obtain another secret art from the Demonic Division in my possession—the forbidden technique called Outer Demon Gate. This prohibition wasn’t because it was a martial art, but because it offered no benefit to the world, potentially causing harm. Previous masters had considered destroying its scrolls but ultimately refrained…” Outer Demon Gate was neither fist technique nor close combat, nor did it relate to other Huanzang arts.

Kume described in his letter how the Ancestor Huanzang, in his twilight years, underwent terrifying experiences that changed his personality, driving him to madness in the disciples’ eyes. Gradually consumed by bizarre fantasies, he obsessed over modifying the human body to break its limits. His recorded experiments formed the forbidden scroll: Outer Demon Gate.

“I’ll find a way to rescue that kid Sakaki Tetsuhei. But… Kuki Muen must never obtain the complete Outer Demon Gate scrolls. I’ve hidden the second volume in the mountain cabin. Burn this letter after reading and head to America immediately.”

Kume believed his junior brother was ruthlessly ambitious. Kuki’s return wasn’t merely for revenge. That man had grander designs, and since Fang Jing had received instruction from Kume, Kuki might inevitably target him. The Black Devourer Syndicate’s power mainly covered Asia; fleeing overseas would put Fang beyond their reach.

“What about you, Nishizuka? Planning to bolt? I could arrange a boat.” Higashi Yuantai asked. Entrusted with aiding Fang Jing, he’d been intercepted before even meeting him, nearly getting himself and the entire Sunao-gumi erased.

“…” Fang Jing closed his eyes for a brief silence before speaking calmly. “The Sunao-gumi and Iwamoto Group must be in serious trouble now, right?”

“Correct.” Higashi admitted with a bitter smile. “The Takaha Group wants our turf completely. The whole city’s in a standoff, and we’ve lost several clashes. If this continues, both groups will collapse…”

“The Murakami Group backs you. Surely they offered aid? And you must have local connections?”

“The Murakami Group fears confronting both the Takaha Group’s backers—the Black Devourer Syndicate and Kanto Confederation—could shatter the current power balance. Besides, the Murakami Group itself is split internally; plenty would gladly kick us while we’re down…” Higashi placed the sherry and glass back. “Forget those above. City councils, politicians we bribed lavishly—they’re all fair-weather friends. If Sunao-gumi and Iwamoto vanish today? As long as the Takaha Group maintains city stability tomorrow, they couldn’t care less.”

“Perfectly explained. Understood.”

Fang Jing rested his chin on one hand, thinking deeply, eyes narrowing as he locked gazes with Higashi Yuantai.

“So, I have a proposal. If I can make all your troublesome opponents vanish… how great a ‘price’ are the Sunao-gumi and Iwamoto Group willing to pay?”

“Price?” Higashi froze, a rare flicker of complexity crossing his expression.

“Consider it a transaction.”

Fang Jing crossed his hands, his voice detached.

“Your groups pay the price. I, on the other hand, will erase your obstacles. Whether it’s that Kuki Ubuka trash, or his League of Nether Ghosts minions, or even the entire Takaha Group? Reapplying such garbage would be simple.”

“You mean it?”

Higashi stared for a moment, expression stiff tightening. Disbelieving yet serious, he answered.

“If you can do this… I’ll grant you the position of Sunao-gumi’s Wakagashira-hopeful.” As group leader, the Wakagashira-hopeful ranked third in the hierarchy.

“No interest in becoming a yakuza. Offer something more… tangible.” Fang Jing chuckled wryly.

“Fine! Two percent. I’ll give you two percent of our yearly take.”

Another might have hesitated, but Higashi instantly grasped this was a colossal opportunity. After witnessing the terrifying depths within this young man, he knew this gamble—insane as it appeared—was his most visionary investment ever.

“However… for this to work, I take all Takaha turf.”

“Agreed.”

Fang Jing didn’t fully grasp what “two percent” entailed. But it mattered little. This was a cost-free deal. Eliminating unwanted pests effortlessly secured him wealth—a welcome exchange for someone perpetually short on cash.

A martial artist’s power was force meant for conflict. Its true value could only realize in combat—a truth he’d ignored was both wasteful and sacrilege. His old self would never entertain this madness.

But hadn’t he entered an equally insane world?

A dangerous realm shrouded in treacherous storms, lurking monstrosities, and demonic entities rampant in the shadows demanded he shed his confined mindset. Clinging to outdated values—upholding rules and order as an indifferent observer—equaled burying one’s head in the sand. Now, that self-imposed cage finally broke; its shackles shattered at long last.

As this epiphany ignited within Fang Jing’s mind, a clarity unknown before erupted, a profound understanding blazing in his chest. In that instant, he genuinely cracked a layer of accumulated chains binding his being.

——

Breath was the core source of life.

“Qigong,” originating in ancient Chinese immortality practices, utilized swift breathing patterns, physical adjustments, and mental focus to expel stagnated “waste qi” from within and absorb fresh cosmic energy.

Qigong diverged into two paths: “Tempering Qi” and “Nurturing Qi.” Tempering Qi strengthened bones and muscles by exercising internal qi. Nurturing Qi promoted overall health via qi cultivation, aiding specific illness treatments or internal organ training.

During his travels to Hong Kong and Taiwan, Kume Nansho discovered qigong’s origin through exchanges with local masters: ancient breathing arts called Daoyin techniques. Huanzhang Style itself held its own Tempering Qi method. Blending both, and relentlessly training for decades, Kume maintained a youthful vigor that belied his seventy years.

“Qi’s power is one’s vital Essence Qi. Unlike muscles, qi isn’t bound to physique or age. Even seniors can enhance their qi…” Kume understood his body fundamentally differed now—past thirty years. At his peak against Kuki thirty years prior, he was middle-aged. Decline was unavoidable with aging.

“Using qi to compensate for frailty just felt inadequate. Even exhausting myself merely reclaimed sixty percent of my prime.” Through qigong, Kume retained some former strength, yet remained drastically diminished compared to his earlier self.

Three decades ago, Kuki Ubuka was barely a teenager, slightly weaker than Kume. His potential could have been limitless. Now nearly fifty, Kuki likely maintained his peak. The “situation” spelled absolute disadvantage for Kume.

“Haaah! Whatever. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it…” Returning to the city, he forsook sleep for a four-hour meditation session, restoring his body to optimum.

Pushing open the basement door revealed several figures waiting.

“Well, well! What brings old ghosts like you crawling over here…”