Chapter 94: Just the Beginning

The entire venue fell silent, save for the speakers overhead still blaring their shrill audio.

In less than ten seconds, two towering men over one meter eighty were subdued by Luo Quan—one clutching his face, kneeling from a microphone strike, the other worse off, thrown over her shoulder and crashing through the stage, now lying on the ground groaning incessantly.

“Security! Security!” Miki shouted for the guards, while Luo Quan picked up another microphone and called out to the fans, urging them to stay calm and avoid stampedes.

She was actually moved—when those two big men lunged at her, many male fans struggled to rush forward to protect her, but she moved too swiftly, giving those devoted fans no chance to play the hero.

“Luo Quan, do you know these two men?”

“Luo Quan, did you ever offend someone before? Are these your enemies’ henchmen?”

“Luo Quan, where did you learn karate? How skilled are you?”

The most explosive news finally emerged—the reporters couldn’t miss this opportunity and rushed forward to press for answers.

Luo Quan quickly waved her hands: “I haven’t offended anyone, and I don’t know them.”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, tonight’s fan appreciation event has concluded. Luo Quan has been startled and is unfit for further interviews.” Miki stepped forward, shielding Luo Quan from the persistent reporters while gesturing for her to leave first.

“Staff, guide the fans out of the stadium in an orderly manner.” This was the last thing Luo Quan said before leaving. The two unknown fat men had already been taken to the police station; after freeing herself, Luo Quan didn’t leave the stadium immediately but went to the restroom to wash her hands.

Those two fat men were disgustingly greasy—Luo Quan’s hands were coated in sticky sweat, and even someone as unbothered by cleanliness as her found it utterly revolting.

She dared not wipe her hands on her clothes, so she had to go to the restroom to wash them.

Whether due to psychological reasons or not, she’d squeezed out nearly half a bottle of soap and still felt a strange odor lingering.

“Guess I’ll need a shower when I get home,” Luo Quan sighed softly.

At that moment, a female cleaner entered the restroom, holding a piece of paper.

“Excuse me, are you Miss Luo Quan?” the cleaner asked cautiously.

Luo Quan nodded: “Yes, what is it?”

“A man outside asked me to give this to you,” the cleaner handed the paper to Luo Quan.

Luo Quan glanced at it in confusion—the paper bore Chinese characters: This is only the beginning.

“Hmph…” Luo Quan smiled, crumpling the paper into a ball. “Auntie, do you remember what this man looked like?”

The cleaner recalled: “He was very tall—at least one meter eighty-five. He wore sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his face.”

Luo Quan thanked her with a smile: “Understood, thank you for your trouble.”

So it wasn’t Iwazaki Eiji himself who delivered the note—he’s only slightly taller than me, and even with shoe inserts, he wouldn’t reach one meter eighty.

“Is this a challenge to me?” Luo Quan smirked coldly. She’d considered tossing the paper straight into the toilet, then remembered it was crucial evidence—better to preserve it properly.

Carefully unfolding the paper, folding it in half, Luo Quan slipped it into her pant pocket…

“At fan appreciation event, Luo Quan attacked by two naked men!”

This became the front-page headline of every major newspaper and magazine tonight. Japan’s entertainment world, long quiet, erupted once more—“Luo Quan,” “naked men,” “attack”—each keyword a sensation, and even more explosive: Luo Quan subdued both men by herself!

After seeing the physique of those two naked men, the public admired Luo Quan utterly—over a hundred thousand comments flooded the related news on Twitter.

“That’s why we call her Goddess Luo Quan—can any ordinary woman handle two such giants?”

“I’m terrified just by a glare from monsters like these—Luo Quan threw them over her shoulder! Her combat power is off the charts!”

“I train karate too—frankly, no woman could lift a guy this big by strength alone—Luo Quan’s technique must be exceptional!”

“Honestly, I kinda want to be thrown by Luo Quan—isn’t that a bit perverted?”

“Not a bit—extremely perverted!”

“Police have leaked case details—apparently, these two claimed to be Luo Quan’s fans, driven by excessive admiration to act this way.”

“Strongly oppose this behavior! This isn’t admiration—it’s deliberate harm!”

“Crazy fan behavior, but that’s no excuse to offend a goddess—recommend legal action.”

“Only a goddess this fierce could handle this—if a normal girl got tackled by these two, she’d be lucky to escape with broken bones!”

“Absolutely despicable—must punish them severely to prevent recurrence.”

Online, support for Luo Quan was unanimous; no one dared post sanctimonious remarks like “She went too far” or “Those fat guys are pitiful.”

Similarly, everyone assumed this was merely a scandal caused by extreme fan behavior, and the police’s statements confirmed it.

After all, similar incidents weren’t rare in Japan—some fans’ actions were even more extreme than these two.

Had it not been for that note, Luo Quan might have thought the same.

Turns out this guy isn’t just all talk—he’s been biding his time to strike a major blow. If she’d reacted a second slower and been tackled today, the consequences would’ve been unthinkable.

Yet despite the note, only Luo Quan knew the true mastermind—Iwazaki Eiji. Those two fat men insisted they were her fans, with zero evidence linking them to Iwazaki—prosecuting him legally would be extremely difficult.

Worse still, this was only his first move. He failed this time, but there would be a second, a third—until she submitted to him.

She’d need to think of a proper plan…

In Kabukicho, the Gokuraku Bar was packed as usual tonight. Hundreds of young girls in daring outfits danced wildly on the floor, while men in private booths sat quietly, sipping whiskey now and then, their predatory gazes scanning the dancers like prey.

In the central booth sat Yamamoto Kōfu, facing two new guests.

“I never expected the second son of the Iwazaki family would come to my place for fun—rare indeed.” Yamamoto Kōfu still wore his half-open floral T-shirt, as if he owned only this style.

“I came here today because I need a favor from you, Mr. Yamamoto,” Iwazaki Eiji said, hands resting on his knees, expression earnest.

Beside him stood a one-meter-eighty-five-tall man, still wearing sunglasses even in the dim bar light.

Yamamoto Kōfu leaned back, relaxed: “What could possibly require your personal visit?”

Iwazaki Eiji smiled: “A female celebrity has offended me, but she’s quite skilled—ordinary methods won’t work. I’d like you to give her a memorable lesson.”

“A woman?” Yamamoto Kōfu laughed as if hearing a joke, his gaze toward Iwazaki now laced with contempt. “A woman has you going to such lengths? Then she must be no ordinary woman.”

A flash of anger crossed Iwazaki Eiji’s eyes, quickly suppressed: “Actually, she has no background—she’s just Chinese.”

Iwazaki Eiji pushed Luo Quan’s photo toward Yamamoto Kōfu.

Yamamoto Kōfu picked up the photo, glanced once—and a deep crease formed between his brows.

After a pause, he stared at Iwazaki Eiji: “This is Chinese? Are you joking? She looks more American. If an American were harmed in Japan, you know how much trouble that would cause.”

“I refuse your request. Find someone else.”

No sovereign nation allows foreign troops stationed on its soil—but Asia has two exceptions: South Korea and Japan.

Japan hosts numerous U.S. military bases; American soldiers are practically nationwide. In times of need, the U.S. can use these forces to influence Japan’s political landscape.

Thus, Americans in Japan hold high status—if one is harmed, it draws massive attention. Yamamoto Kōfu wasn’t afraid, but he certainly didn’t want such trouble.

Iwazaki Eiji looked troubled: “But she really is Chinese—her father has British blood, so she looks white!”

Yamamoto Kōfu said sternly: “Do you think I’ve never seen mixed-race people? Aside from her dark eyes, where are her East Asian features?”

Iwazaki Eiji wouldn’t give up: “She’s a celebrity—her info is online, you can check!”

Yamamoto Kōfu waved his hand: “I never go online, and I don’t care if she’s a celebrity. Don’t come to me about this. The Yamaguchi-gumi are money-hungry and reckless—go to them.”

Iwazaki Eiji complained: “The Yamaguchi-gumi already refused me—they said the police are watching closely now, too risky. They told me to come to you.”

“So you didn’t plan to come to me at first—you only turned to me after the Yamaguchi-gumi turned you down?” Yamamoto Kōfu looked offended, his face darkening.

Iwazaki Eiji hurried to explain: “That’s not what I meant!”

“Enough. Leave now, before I get angry,” Yamamoto Kōfu stood, gesturing toward the exit.

“I…” Iwazaki Eiji opened his mouth to speak, but the man behind him shook his head.

“Then we’ll take our leave. Apologies for the disturbance.” Iwazaki Eiji bowed to Yamamoto Kōfu and left the booth.