Chapter 109: Speechless, Typical Japanese Thinking

“Enju, where’s your friend?”

Rikken Ren Taro asked, puzzled; he had cleaned his small room specially to welcome the friend she mentioned, but waited and waited without seeing anyone.

“Right here.”

A deep, resonant voice suddenly sounded from behind.

He spun around instantly—a tall, dark figure had appeared silently in the room, where only he and Enju had been; Ren Taro’s skin prickled with goosebumps, sensing an unprecedented threat from this shadow, his body tensing instinctively, ready for battle.

“Who… are you?”

Ren Taro asked hoarsely, his voice carrying a faint trace of fear.

Whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t the new friend Enju had made in elementary school!

He wore a red muscle vest, a black cloak tied behind him, stood over one meter eighty, his bare arms thick as gnarled tree trunks, white bandages tightly wrapped around his wrists, brows furrowed, eyes blazing, short bristly hair standing straight up—his appearance and aura embodied the very meaning of “brutal” and “ferocious.”

He was utterly out of place in this world.

Yet, in stark contrast, the little girl with twin pigtails whom Ren Taro had pulled to his side lit up the moment she saw him, leaping several meters into the air with astonishing agility, landing directly before him.

“Enju, wait—”

Before Ren Taro could stop her, the fierce-looking man grinned as Enju rushed toward him, his expression softening into a smile utterly incongruous with his demeanor; he opened his arms, embraced the tiny girl, spun her twice around the room, then gently set her down.

“Uh…”

Seeing this, Ren Taro felt a strange sensation—he had never seen Enju so close to anyone besides himself, and this “friend” of hers looked so… terrifying.

Terrifying?

As a member of the Mirrorscope, she had, over the past two days, seen Jia Ji’s true face amid the group’s intense exchanges of dark histories and photos—she certainly wasn’t afraid now.

“I don’t know why, but from the moment I saw him, I just felt like the group owner was really warm.”

When Jia Ji read this message from little Enju in the group, he was speechless for a moment—he wondered if he’d somehow accidentally loaded some special charm.

But then again, it wasn’t surprising; after all, the essence of Northern Dipper Fist is taking care of children—being popular with kids was only natural.

Of course, it wasn’t just that.

As a “cursed child” who had grown up amid others’ malice, Lan Yuan Enju had long developed an uncanny ability to judge intent; the moment she saw Jia Ji’s true form, she sensed the genuine kindness he radiated toward her.

“You ask me? I want to ask you! Who the hell are you to Enju?” Jia Ji roared, glaring fiercely; his end-of-century ferocity instantly crushed Ren Taro’s Japanese-style softboy personality, shrinking him into the corner.

“I… I’m her partner, Rikken Ren Taro…”

“There, there, Ren Taro,” Enju giggled happily, “let me introduce you—he’s the friend I told you about—everyone calls him Jia Ji!”

“You can call me Uncle Jia.”

Ren Taro’s eyelid twitched; his head spun from the odd remark, unsure how to respond, and he was puzzled by Enju’s mention of “everyone”—as if he wanted to ask more.

“That’s enough.” After the greeting, Jia Ji stopped wasting time with Ren Taro; every second he delayed meant another cursed child might be abused to death.

He ignored the world’s designated male protagonist and turned to the twin-tailed crimson-haired girl.

“Let’s go, Enju—show me around.” Jia Ji stressed the word “around,” as if it carried hidden meaning.

“Okay!” The twin-tailed girl cheered, clinging to Jia Ji’s arm—it was a prearranged plan.

Whoosh!

The next instant, a gale tore through the room, sending debris flying; Ren Taro had to raise his right hand to shield his eyes.

When he looked up again, the room was empty—Enju and the mysterious man had vanished instantly, and the previously closed window now stood wide open.

“This is the third floor…”

The black-haired boy leaned against the windowsill, seeing no one—only an empty street stretched before him; a strange sense of dread surged in his chest.

————————————

“Where is the Holy Empress?”

Ten years ago, the nation known as Japan was forced to divide into five regions due to the [Primordial Worm War].

“Ah… the supreme ruler of Tokyo District, the Holy Empress?”

Enju herself was a speed-type Initiator, yet she was still stunned by Jia Ji’s blazing speed; amid the howling wind at her ears, she heard a strange question.

Ice doesn’t form three feet thick overnight; the hostility toward Cursed Children wasn’t built in a day or two—this mindset had sunk deep into the public’s heart, and even Jia Ji could hardly see any possibility of shattering it. Even with absolute power, how could he possibly resolve prejudice in people’s minds…?

Hmph!

Typical Japanese thinking—speechless.

If I can’t change their beliefs, can’t I just eliminate the people who hold them?

I’m not some righteous hero or perfect Superman.

During those seven days, Jia Ji hadn’t done nothing—he had repeatedly pondered one thing…

This world was rotten from top to bottom; if you killed ten people here, excluding Cursed Children, you’d likely kill ten wrong ones—but not killing them was an even greater error!

To save the children suffering right now with maximum efficiency, he must kill as many of the bastards who cause this suffering as possible, in the shortest time.

So how to kill matters, who to kill first matters… finally, he drew inspiration from his uncle, the 62nd-generation Xia Quan Zhi Lang—who single-handedly assassinated the last emperor of the feudal dynasty, Wu Ge.

He resolved to emulate the ancients, applying the Northern Dipper lineage’s finest tradition and technique—assassinate from the very top (unrivaled)!

Could one man accomplish this?

The answer: yes.

He could. He must. He would.

“Enju, lead the way!”

“Leave it all to me!” The little girl gave him a vigorous OK sign, brimming with energy.

Held in Jia Ji’s single arm, Enju looked tiny as a doll beside his massive frame, yet inside, she felt no fear—only a strange, eager anticipation for what was coming.

She pointed, aiming at a distant direction.

(End of Chapter)