Chapter 67: Direction

On an international flight from Japan to China.

In the first-class cabin.

To accommodate passengers needing rest, the cabin lights were uniformly dimmed.

Not far to Su Lin’s left, a passenger whispered to the flight attendant serving Su Lin: “Flight attendant, could you please bring me a blanket?”

“Of course, please wait a moment,” the attendant replied softly, “Here you go, sir.”

“Mm, thank you.”

The flight attendant glanced curiously at Su Lin—passengers wanting coffee at this hour were uncommon—then pushed her cart down the aisle toward the storage cabinet for blankets.

Su Lin held a warm ceramic cup in his hand, lounging lazily in the spacious leather seat, gazing out the window to his right.

It was no different from what he’d seen atop Shuijing Peak.

Just as remote from worldly noise, clouds as ground, golden moon hanging in the sky, stars scattered everywhere.

The coffee steamed hot, its fruity aroma drifting to his nose; Su Lin gently blew on it a few times.

He took a small sip—the taste was tart with a hint of sweetness, its rich fragrance spreading through his mouth.

Su Lin felt he wasn’t used to this... adding milk and sugar would suit him better.

This was Su Lin’s first time in first class; the last time he’d flown was when he was very young, in economy, and he remembered the coffee on that flight had been Nescafé instant.

This cup of freshly ground coffee stirred his thoughts—money’s ability to deliver differentiated service was truly enjoyable; no wonder some people chased wealth, just to afford things ordinary folks could never enjoy.

On this matter, Su Lin was genuinely grateful for the funding provided by Lu Mingze.

Though he could fly there himself, it would be troublesome and exhausting.

Every journey eventually reaches its end; there’s no need to rush. It’s not yet time to fight for every second—better to savor the scenery along the way.

Aside from Cassel and certain bloodline families possessing black-tech, this era was just like the world he’d lived in ten years ago.

At this time, Su Lin remembered he’d just graduated junior high? Or was it third year?

Too long ago—he couldn’t recall.

He was now flying to China in this world to fulfill the first agreement made with another Lu Mingfei.

He planned to complete the transaction, then spend some time exploring this era from ten years ago; time keeps moving forward, so when such an opportunity arises, cherish it.

‘Fortunately...’

Su Lin pulled a piece of paper from his black coat, on which several addresses were written.

‘Most of these bloodline families have relocated to a single city.’

As people climb upward and water flows downward, these beings who already surpass ordinary humans naturally have higher standards for their living environment.

‘That’ll save me a few trips.’

Su Lin adjusted his seat to 270°, placed his feet on the footrest, closed his eyes, and began to rest.

Meanwhile, Lu Mingfei in Tokyo was staring blankly at his private chat log.

Su Lin: “That’s it—I’ve fled back to China. Don’t contact me for a while.”

Lu Mingfei: “?”

Su Lin: “Sayonara~”

Lu Mingfei: “??”

Su Lin: “Almost forgot—when you shoot your Tokyo Love Story, remember to call me.”

Lu Mingfei: “????”

Back to China? You crossed worlds to go back to China?

Fled? You need to flee? Even if Cassel came in full force, you wouldn’t need to run!

What the hell are you doing, bro? Don’t mess with me! Oki Masamichi is still pretending to be a benevolent old yakuza boss, plotting how to drag all three of us down with him.

Lu Mingfei wondered how he, a slacker, would survive now that the main character had fled.

But he didn’t feel much pressure—whatever, if things got bad, he’d just go to another world and establish his Foundation.

When you reach the mountain, a path will appear; when the boat reaches the bridge, it will naturally pass.

Some things must be done by oneself; one can’t always rely on others.

Even if Su Lin slacked off and hadn’t yet established his Foundation, Lu Mingfei was still invincible in Tokyo!

If all else failed, he could always find Lu Mingze.

“Time to go, Lu Mingfei,” Caesar patted Lu Mingfei’s shoulder, breaking his daydream: “You’ve been out of it all day, just wandering Akihabara—you need a proper rest.”

Lu Mingfei shook his head like a rattle drum, “Thanks, President. I think I’m just hungry.”

Genji Shishio gave a few instructions to Yabuki Sakura, who nodded, picked up her phone, and began dialing.

He walked over and said to the three: “There’s no further value in staying here to investigate—the ingredients have been replaced with fresh ones, and the reception is ready. Would you honor us with your presence?”

“Alright, let’s go,” Caesar led the way toward the helicopter on the rooftop.

“Let’s go, Senior Brother,” Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang followed closely behind.

Genji Shishio sighed and hurried to catch up.

At the banquet

Guests and hosts alike enjoyed themselves; after a few drinks, the men established a preliminary rapport.

Bloodline families always found common ground in conversation, especially about their tragic childhoods.

From childhood memories, to romantic partners, to life goals, to their overall outlook on life.

At least tonight was one of Genji Shishio’s more relaxed moments in recent days.

He suddenly realized these three idiots weren’t so bad after all.

Then, during the itinerary discussion, Caesar Cattus proposed: “I’m not interested in any of those things you mentioned—why not take us to see the real Japanese yakuza?”

Thus, the crimson Ferrari FF roared down the elevated highway, its high-displacement engine howling.

Of course, they had a designated driver—they didn’t rely on bloodline physicality to drive drunk.

Yabuki Sakura, as the driver, navigated the car skillfully through traffic.

Her excellent driving earned praise from everyone.

Lu Mingfei sat in the backseat; he wasn’t particularly looking forward to what came next, but he hadn’t expected that even with an hour’s delay, Genji Shishio would still lead them to that street...

As expected, there was only a nerdy, not entirely evil middle-school delinquent who loved manga—he was just killing time and posed no real threat to the manga shop, only breaking yakuza rules.

Poor guy, like Qing Tong Wu shouting solo on the public channel, only to face five professional players.

All five of them decided to solo you.

Lu Mingfei resolved to stay silent this time, unlike in the novel where he embarrassed himself—too awkward... reading his own drunken lines in the novel, he felt he could dig a castle with his toes.

The only difference was, as the car neared its destination.

The ground was covered in blood and weapons; people were cleaning up the aftermath of a gang battle, distant sirens wailing.

Lu Mingfei suddenly remembered—two yakuza factions were scheduled to fight here tonight.

“Two logistics-based gangs clashed here over territory,” Genji Shishio explained from the front passenger seat. “It’s over.”

Flashing ambulance lights illuminated a vehicle parked roadside; medical staff strained to lift a stretcher.

On it lay a young man in a black suit, his sleeve torn open, revealing a lion tattoo—the blade had precisely sliced across the lion’s eye; medics had wrapped a bandage around the wound, blood seeping through.

Lu Mingfei watched out the window as raindrops fell, washing away the crimson blood; sticks, knives, and swords lay scattered across the concrete.

Streetlamp light reflected in puddles, appearing like mirrors from afar; up close, the puddles held mud, sand, and reflections.

Whether they arrived an hour late or not, the two gangs would still fight for profit, for survival—someone had to lose.

Because they were trapped in this class, struggling within their predetermined circle.

‘Resources...’ Lu Mingfei suddenly recalled Su Lin’s idle chat when he first arrived at Shuijing Peak.

They might pause for an hour, forced by the authority of the Genji clan head.

But the final outcome wouldn’t change...

It was destined.

‘It’s over.’

Lu Mingfei glanced at Genji Shishio in the front, recalling his words, then looked out the window at the wreckage along the road.

‘It won’t change...’

The restlessness and unease, the confidence and optimism since returning from the other world, were doused like a bucket of cold water.

He leaned back in the Ferrari FF’s rear seat, silently watching the window, waiting for the bookstore that was bound to arrive.

And

The people destined to meet.