"Wei the Second! Can't you control your own people?!"
The elderly voice roaring over the phone sounded as if the old man wanted to crawl through the line and smear Wei Yenwu's face with sand.
Wei Yenwu had expected that with Roya's reckless temperament, "collecting a debt" might amount to dragging some gang into a lecture on Lungmen's rules.
What he had not expected was that the lunatic would round up every major gang boss in the slums all at once.
"Lin, there's nothing I can do! That brat isn't picking up his phone!"
This time, the matter had really gotten out of hand.
Wei Yenwu and Lin had intended to gradually bring the slums under control. They had never imagined this living catastrophe would go so far.
Where had he even gotten that kind of ability?
"Do you realize what kind of mess this creates for me? I finally managed to get a grip on most of the gang forces—enough to keep them in line, at least—and now that brat... now the slums are going to descend into chaos all over again."
On the other end of the line, the old man in the overcoat patted his chest to calm himself.
He still remembered the first time Wei Yenwu had brought Roya to meet him a year ago. The boy's opening line had been a completely disrespectful:
"Holy hell, that's one huge rat!"
Wei Yenwu had even joked that, as an atavistic Zalak, he really did look like a rat spirit who'd cultivated himself into human form.
Even then, Lin had known Roya would never be ordinary.
But he truly had not expected this.
"In any case, send Yuhsia to find him. Make sure she brings the Black Cloaks. That damned brat—what exactly is he planning?"
Wei Yenwu slammed a fist down on the desk hard enough that it nearly shattered the solid wood into splinters.
Wen Yue, however, seemed to think of something.
"Could it be because of what happened yesterday?"
Her reminder brought it back to him.
Yesterday, aside from rooting out the traitor within Lungmen, something else had indeed happened. Several officers Wei Yenwu had assigned to oversee slum management had been murdered—their arms and legs broken, their bodies dumped at the entrance to an alley in the slums as a warning.
But Roya didn't even know those officers.
Why was he being so aggressive over it?
"Deputy Chief Roya, you're playing with fire. Do you know what the consequences will be if you take us?"
In a derelict building in an abandoned industrial district outside Lungmen, the bound leader of the Dog Gang glared at Roya with savage hostility.
"No."
Roya shook his head honestly.
In the empty building, there was only him, his van behind him, and the thirteen gang leaders in front of him—hands and feet tied, all stuffed into the vehicle. To make sure they would fit, he had even been forced to dislocate a few limbs for better packing.
"Then why are you doing this? Was it Wei... Wei-sir's orders?"
After all, now that they'd been captured by Roya, the Sweet Rice Dumpling Gang leader did not dare speak Wei Yenwu's name outright. If Wei Yenwu emerged in the next second, he'd probably be the first to die.
"Because I'm pissed off," Roya said frankly. "And when I'm pissed off, I feel like finding a place to vent. See this? My future wife hit me."
He pointed at his face in a rather aggrieved manner.
There was still some blood there, enough that anyone could tell from a glance at his nose.
"You think we'd believe something like that?"
This time the speaker was the Wonton Gang leader.
To be honest, Roya didn't even know how to make fun of these outside gangs anymore. They didn't understand Great Yan's written language, yet they insisted on using it to name themselves. Hotpot Gang, Cabbage Gang, all sorts of nonsense. At least the local groups picked names like Soaring Cloud Society or Four Seas Association.
"Whether you believe it or not has nothing to do with me. It won't stop me from beating you."
Roya rubbed his still-throbbing head. He'd taken a punch from Ch'en earlier, and now he'd overused his power. He could clearly feel that his mental state was becoming unstable.
Still, without doing it this way, he'd never have been able to "invite" these people here.
Turning around, he kicked his recently purchased secondhand van lightly and set the bloodied baseball bat on the floor.
Within less than an hour—before any of them had fully understood what was happening—Roya had successfully cleared the "Lungmen Slums mini-instance," capturing thirteen key gang leaders. Most of them were foreigners, because those were always the most arrogant.
Of course, that was also because they had brought it on themselves. Yesterday they had murdered Guard Department officers; today they were already holding a secret meeting behind the Rat King's back, discussing how they would band together to resist Wei Yenwu and the Rat King's authority.
And they'd only brought fifty or so underlings.
If Roya had truly had to go knocking on each gang's door one by one, not even ten of him would have been enough.
"This junker, honestly. They said it could fit fifteen people. I only loaded fourteen and it's already full. Maybe I'm packing them wrong."
Roya's gaze slid over the Gold Leaf Gang leader and the Hotpot Gang leader, whose limbs had both been broken.
He stroked his chin with his right hand, and the cold look in his eyes made every man present feel a chill run down his spine.
"Maybe next time I should try cutting them into pieces before loading them."
That single sentence sent the so-called rulers of the slums cold with terror.
This wasn't a joke.
He was serious.
"Wait—wait, Deputy Chief Roya! There's no grudge between us, right? I even gave you a Ragf watch before!"
"You mean to say I accepted a bribe?"
That one line from Roya made the Groh Gang boss go completely silent.
He had the distinct feeling that if he showed even the slightest sign of agreement, he would be the first to die.
Once the bird that stuck its head out got its beak pinned to the ground, how could the rest dare chirp?
Even the few who were in agony bit down and stayed silent. But their view of Roya had already undergone several stages of evolution:
A man who could be bought.
A capable upstart.
A madman.
A madman nobody could afford to provoke.
"Sigh. To be honest, gentlemen, it's not that I really want to do anything to you. After all, you've got plenty of subordinates, plenty of influence in the slums, and we've all eaten and drunk together. Doing this is really rather inappropriate."
He spoke in a tone of mock sincerity.
"But what can I do? Wei-sir was very dissatisfied with what happened yesterday. He ordered me to take over the slums within a month. But..."
The baseball bat was tossed aside.
In its place, he picked up a pair of iron pincers and a kitchen cleaver sharp enough to gleam under the light.
"You lot don't want to listen to Wei-sir's arrangements or to Mr. Rat King, and you don't want to obediently die either. That makes things very difficult for me."
"AAAAAH!"
The cleaver flashed.
An ear fell to the floor.
Red spread across the ground, and the Groh Gang boss—who until this point had remained terrified into silence—finally let out a scream of agony, though he could not even lift a hand to cover the wound.
"Oh dear. Sorry, sorry. Under normal procedure, I should have used the pincers first to remove your fingernails or teeth, and only then moved on to the knife. Here, let me sew that back on for you. Don't worry, I've learned how. Maybe a few dozen stitches will do. There's no anesthetic, though, so you'll have to bear with it."
Looking at Roya's gentle smile, the gang leaders shuddered.
It wasn't that they had never seen blood before.
It was that they had never seen anyone like him.
He looked as though he genuinely intended to stitch the ear back on—not because he wanted to torture the man, but because he honestly felt he had made a procedural error and ought to remedy it.
An out-and-out lunatic.
That thought took root beyond all control.
And that lunatic now held all of their lives in his hands.
No one had expected Roya to smash through a perimeter of more than three hundred men, seize the thirteen of them, and bring them here. They hadn't even realized what state they were in until they were crammed into the van. Until then, it had all felt like sleepwalking.
"The Guard Department's current policy toward the slums is roughly divided into two camps—very common, really—the radicals and the conservatives. The radicals think the slums should just be seized by force, because obviously you can't beat Wei-sir's people. Me, for example."
He patted his own chest with a trace of pride. He had already demonstrated his ability in practice.
"But personally, I belong to the conservative faction."
What part of you is conservative?
Two men over there have lost both hands!
"Oh, don't misunderstand. The so-called conservatives are simply the faction that thinks the radicals are too conservative. In my view, forcibly taking over the slums only creates more trouble. You'd still keep running all those filthy smuggling operations in the shadows, wouldn't you?"
As he spoke, Roya patted the Groh Gang boss on the shoulder.
"For instance, you. Human trafficker. How many families did that watch you gave me destroy?"
Fear spread through the hearts of everyone present, drilling deeper and deeper into the darkest corners of their minds.
Perhaps it was an illusion, but they all felt it now:
There was something wrong with Roya.
Very wrong.
"So." His voice remained light, casual. "My position is that the lot of you—from top to bottom—ought to be wiped out. Every last one."
The knife's flat side dropped lightly against the Groh leader's shoulder, once, then again, then again. Though it was only the blunt edge, it was enough to shatter what remained of the man's sanity.
He bit down hard, not daring to cry out, afraid he would lose his other ear too.
Tears slid down his face.
He was sobbing like a widow who had lost both husband and son.
"After all, your continued existence brings nothing to Lungmen, and nothing good to anyone else. Isn't that right?"
Roya lowered his head, and his voice slipped into the man's ear like a demon whispering from the dark.
"But I'm tired. I can't be bothered to kill you. So do it yourself."
The terrified eyes went blank in an instant.
The tears stopped.
His clenched jaw loosened, and two words came out:
"As you command."
The other gang leaders stared in disbelief.
They watched as Roya untied the man's bonds, placed the knife into his hand without the slightest fear that he might retaliate, then calmly took the man's wallet and removed ten Lungmen dollars, slipping them into his own pocket.
"That's the cost of the knife. What's your bank card PIN?"
"228933."
"Good boy. Go over there. I don't like blood. Die further away."
Roya pointed toward a patch of wild grass not far from the ruined building.
"As you command!"
The Groh Gang boss raised no objection whatsoever. Carrying the knife, he walked over step by step and, under the horrified gaze of the other gang leaders, ended his own life in the grass.
Roya seemed exactly as he claimed—someone who disliked blood. He wiped himself with a wet tissue while answering the communicator that had started vibrating in his pocket.
"Hello? What is it, boss?"
"...What have you done to them?"
Wei Yenwu's voice on the other end was unusually cautious, as though he were trying to gauge Roya's present mental condition. Otherwise, he would have either exploded in rage or spoken as calmly as the wind. This careful tone made the gang leaders, who were already half out of their minds with fear, realize something else.
Wei Yenwu seemed... wary of Roya?
"Well... the ones who are alive are all still alive. But why are you so concerned about them? Killing them all wouldn't make any difference to taking over the slums. I could definitely get it done within a month!"
"We agree! We agree, Wei-sir!"
Once one of them broke, the rest followed immediately.
If they didn't beg now, they'd all be lining up to commit suicide next.
"Yes, yes—we agree! We'll do whatever you want!"
"We were wrong, Wei-sir! We'll change! Right away!"
Hearing both Roya's words and the terrified voices in the background, Wei Yenwu's heart sank.
He cursed himself for forgetting that the boy was truly capable of going mad.
But the most urgent matter now was stopping him before he went any further.
"The Black Cloaks will be there in three minutes. Roya—don't do anything reckless!"
"What a bore."
Roya hung up.
He had just been about to switch off the communicator when another call came in. There was no note on the number, but it was one he knew well, so he still answered—walking a little farther away from the gang leaders so they wouldn't overhear.
Only five people knew Roya's number.
Wei Yenwu, who called him most often.
Ch'en Hui-chieh, his fiancée in name.
Lin Yuhsia, his other employer in a different line of work.
The Rat King.
And Jiu, who handled operational handovers with him.
The one calling now was naturally the Lin family's young lady—the same one who was terrified of explosions and would hide behind him whenever firecrackers went off during the New Year.
"How are you feeling right now?"
The moment the line connected, Lin Yuhsia went straight to the point.
"A little headache."
"I'll be there soon. Hold on. Don't use your power anymore!"
"It's fine. Their fear of me is already carved into their bones. The backlash from using it is smaller now."
"You sound half-dead. Wait for me."
She hung up decisively and accelerated toward Roya's location.
Roya tapped himself lightly on the head with the communicator to stay awake.
This was the first time he had ever pushed his power this far, and now he could already feel himself growing drowsy and dazed. With all the restraint of daily life suddenly cast aside, the rush of it had been strangely exhilarating.
Putting away the communicator, he returned to the van and checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. Aside from the bloodstains, he looked fine.
"Well, since Wei-sir has spoken, let's call it a day. I hope none of you gentlemen give me a chance to improve my performance statistics in the future. Especially not by making me work overtime."
"We wouldn't dare, we wouldn't dare!"
The gang leaders shook their heads faster than spinning tops. At this point, they wanted nothing more than to never see Roya again for the rest of their lives.
"Then I'll be off. Unless you'd like me to drive you back? With one less person, the van should fit everyone just fine now."
Fourteen had been a squeeze. Thirteen would definitely fit comfortably.
Roya looked visibly drained now, but to the gang leaders, the smile on his face resembled the grin of the Reaper himself.
"No need, no need!"
"Please take care on the road, Deputy Chief Roya!"
"You go slowly, sir!"
Watching the gang leaders send him off so enthusiastically, Roya was actually rather pleased. He almost told them he'd miss them.
Instead, he simply got into the van and drove away.
In reality, he didn't get very far.
His mental state would not allow it.
He only made it to a road not far from the ruined building before stopping the car and cutting the engine.
The moment he relaxed, searing agony flooded in from every corner of his body and poured into his skull. It felt like someone had shoved a meat grinder into his brain.
Even so, he managed to preserve the last thread of consciousness.
Then he grabbed the baseball bat and brought it down on his own head.
He passed out in the driver's seat.
-------
My : pat*eon*com/RuneA
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