Chapter 932

The lighting in the detention center interview room remained dim.

Uesugi Muneyuki did not like killing; he had no intention of killing Ahiru. For someone like him, the best outcome was still to face legal judgment—first, he had killed so many people that even in Japan, that would already warrant the death penalty; second, Uesugi Muneyuki's style differed from Mai Xuejie's—he disliked vigilante justice unless he had no choice but to resort to it.

But death was unavoidable, and he could not escape punishment.

Ahiru's Seishokurin had already cracked and shattered.

His inner world, his understanding and realization of worldly laws, and the Mahakala Shiva Dharma Image he had refined through long cultivation—all now belonged to Uesugi Muneyuki.

Rain pattered intermittently, and Uesugi Muneyuki could feel something detaching from the shattered remnants of Ahiru's inner world, like a fragment breaking off a melting iceberg, slowly drifting toward him.

The blessings of the ancient old gods had faded, while the primordial old gods' blessings, drawn from Ahiru, now flowed toward Uesugi Muneyuki, signifying that he not only possessed a broader vision and deeper understanding, but also that the tide of logic constrained him less.

Ahiru's mouth twitched.

He suddenly realized how ridiculous he was—utterly ridiculous.

He rambled on, proclaiming himself a successful person, believing no one understood the inner world better than he did (except the cult leader), yet in the end, the old gods' blessings shifted toward Uesugi Muneyuki.

In other words, this guy's level and strength surpassed his by an unknown margin.

In the circus, you're the busiest; in Gotham City, you're the wildest; in front of McDonald's, you stand guard; in a deck of cards, you're the big and small jokers.

"Hahaha!"

"Hahahaha ahahahahahahahaha!"

"Hahahahaha ha hahahahahahaha!"

Ahiru's manic laughter echoed from within the room.

A faint tremor came from deep within his body, like a taut string suddenly released.

That vibration spread from Ahiru's chest outward, passing through the iron bed, through the air, through the invisible boundary before Uesugi Muneyuki, and finally settled deep within his consciousness.

Uesugi Muneyuki's body twitched slightly, and he saw something.

Shiva's Dharma Image, but transformed through Uesugi Muneyuki's conversion into the form of a Wisdom King—specifically, the Great Virtue Wisdom King.

Shiva's symbol is "transcendence," while the Great Virtue Wisdom King's symbol is "subjugation."

These two share a special compatibility.

Uesugi Muneyuki felt a new door appear in his consciousness—not one requiring force to pry open, but one already half-open, needing only a light push to swing fully wide.

Through that gap, his vision stretched in that instant—he saw deeper. He saw what lay behind the wall—was it the Origin Wall? He saw the far shore of the Soul Sea, flooded with lake-green light, the void where the old gods dwelled—was that their abode?

He did not know, but he was certain he had drawn nearer to that place.

Shiva's power could not let him predict the future or foresee fate, but Uesugi Muneyuki gained an ability closer to "understanding the essence of things." Shiva's third eye, in Esoteric Buddhism, was transformed into the Great Virtue Wisdom King's "True Eye."

It does not alter what he sees, but lets him perceive the connections between things.

Awesome, I gradually understand everything. JPG

Uesugi Muneyuki opened his eyes; under the white light of the detention center interview room, his gaze had changed.

Ahiru leaned against the wall, his eyes completely unfocused, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly but making no sound—he had nothing left, neither in the outer world nor the inner world.

Uesugi Muneyuki glanced at him one last time, stood up, and walked out.

The iron door clanged shut behind him.

"Goodbye, or perhaps never again."

After leaving the detention center, Uesugi Muneyuki immediately rushed to another location at the Hyogo Prefecture Police Headquarters.

The Hyogo Prefecture Police Headquarters was gloomy and bleak—about half its personnel faced resignation or forced reassignment, demotion in name but promotion in reality, while the other half, though claiming "not my concern," still had to record on their resumes: "Served at Hyogo Prefecture Headquarters during the Souda Sosuke wrongful case."

That is politics—later, appointments, promotions, and benefits will hinge on seeing this entry on a resume, which will undoubtedly be a major demerit. That afternoon, the National Police Agency and Souda Sosuke held compensation talks in a meeting room at a certain law firm in Kobe City.

Souda Sosuke sat on one side of the table, his lawyer behind him, his mother beside him.

The National Police Agency's representative, Director of the Commissioner's Secretariat Kobe Takeru, sat opposite, wearing a dark gray suit, tie neatly knotted, with a printed document spread before him.

Special Mission Section Chief Uesugi Minami and Special Mission Division Supervisor Okada Masayoshi sat on chairs in the corner, not participating in the talks, but their presence itself was a signal.

This was also Souda Sosuke's demand: no Special Mission Division personnel present—I don't trust the police.

Before the talks began, Uesugi Muneyuki privately met with Souda Sosuke for a short time.

"Souda-san, regarding compensation, let me put it this way: things have turned out this way, nobody wants it, so I suggest you settle it quickly—of course, you can sue the police." Uesugi Muneyuki spoke as he had when Souda Sosuke was ambushed and he intercepted him, whispering: "Go to the Nishimura Asahi Law Office, file a five- or eight-year lawsuit—you might walk away with one billion."

"But that process will drag on for years, even longer. During those years, you cannot play ball, cannot sign contracts, cannot engage in any commercial activity. Your life will be consumed by that lawsuit. The money you receive will have a portion taken by lawyers. The freedom you gain will be locked by the documents you sign. If you accept their proposal now, you can wrap this up swiftly and begin a new life." Souda Sosuke stood before him, gazing into his eyes, nodding, his eyes filled with trust and emotion; at one moment, Uesugi Muneyuki even felt it was Old Ren facing him: "Mr. Uesugi, what do you think I should do?"

"I recommend a lump sum—settle quickly, resolve everything swiftly—hasn't Ohtani Shohei spoken up for you?" Uesugi Muneyuki said.

Yes, the matter had similarly caused a major stir in the United States; Americans, as always, were outraged— to Americans, infidelity is trivial, the U. S. divorce rate nears 60%, but being tortured by police into false confessions is also hard for Americans to bear.

The U. S. police system is highly complex, divided into county police, state police, National Guard, FBI, and so on—due to space and relevance, we won't elaborate further here.

In fact, the U. S. originally established this system to prevent overcentralization, distant-water fishing, and cross-state law enforcement, but in practice, even if every U. S. police officer wore bodycams, coercive conduct remains unavoidable.

Thus, Ohtani Shohei finally spoke up, saying he knew Japanese police should not be like this, we have reason to treat this matter seriously, and simultaneously, the Los Angeles Dodgers recorded a video in support of Souda Sosuke, reportedly planning to give him a tryout. From a certain angle, everyone dislikes the white left—they're too good at spending other people's money.

But when genuine help is truly needed, it turns out many of those very white leftists actually step forward to assist.

Like the Old White District Boston Red Sox—they would absolutely never do such a thing; only a place like California would genuinely lend a hand.

"So, Mr. Uesugi, how much do you think I'm worth?" Souda Sosuke nodded.

"Two hundred million, lump sum—how about that?" Uesugi Muneyuki asked.

Souda Sosuke's lips trembled; he pondered long, then suddenly said: "The exchange rate has dropped again—two hundred thirty million, no less." "Fine, rest assured—Japan isn't South Korea, there's no foreign exchange control, you can convert all your money to U. S. dollars anytime." Uesugi Muneyuki exhaled in relief: "If you think it's enough, sign. If not, I'll help you keep negotiating."

"It's enough. Two hundred thirty million—enough to live on for a long time. Thank you."

That afternoon, both parties, under the lawyer's witness, signed a one-time permanent settlement agreement.

The National Police Agency paid Souda Sosuke 230 million yen as compensation for wrongful arrest, illegal detention, reputational harm, and income loss; Souda Sosuke withdrew all litigation claims against the Hyogo Prefecture Police and the National Police Agency; both parties fully settled and pledged never to pursue each other's liability again. After signing, Souda Sosuke placed the pen on the table and looked out the window.

These four days' experiences were richer than his entire life—one reversal became a nationwide meme, known and endlessly joked about by all citizens.

So could he now choose a drink?

He planned to choose Gatorade, blueberry flavor.

Eto Miyabi's compensation was not processed through the National Police Agency channel but completed via Hong Kong's "Special Adjustment Fund."

Her name was not made public, and the compensation was not in cash but a three-year program contract with a fixed fee per episode, plus a subsidy for "psychological trauma treatment," totaling about thirty million yen, to be paid over five years.

At the same time, NHK quietly corrected Eto Miyabi's official resume, changing "suspended work due to personal reasons" to "suspended work due to assisting police investigation."

After settling Souda Sosuke, Uesugi Muneyuki now had to settle Eto Miyabi.

However, this woman Souda would be easier to handle.

Uesugi Muneyuki arranged to meet Eto Miyabi at an upscale club near Kobe Port.

A standalone building with a private Japanese-style courtyard, the main gate bore no sign, only a line of characters carved into stone, half-covered by moss, one half reading "Shita," the other half "Mizuki."

The courtyard was paved with fine white gravel, in the center stood a stone lantern, already lit, its warm yellow light casting a long, slightly wavering reflection on the water surface.

The attendant wore a deep purple kimono, wooden clogs clicking on the wooden hallway, guiding the two into a private room facing the courtyard.

The interior was simply yet exquisitely furnished; the low table was made of a single piece of black persimmon wood, polished smooth, with a set of hand-painted ceramic tableware placed upon it.

The view of the courtyard beyond the window was framed like a living painting.

Eto Miyabi sat opposite Uesugi Muneyuki, wearing a deep blue silk shirt, the collar slightly open, over which she had draped a light gray cashmere cardigan.

Her hair was cut somewhat shorter than before, styled in a refined yet casual loose wave, makeup moderate—neither overly heavy nor deliberately plain—except for a pair of fox-like eyes sparkling with brilliant light.

Just as Uesugi Muneyuki was about to say something to Eto Miyabi, the club's band began to sing, the lead musician striking a powerful shamisen melody, while the monk singer at the front picked up the microphone and launched into a rap.

"Hanwha, 2-0, defeated T1, so we should congratulate the Hanwha Team from the LCK region."

"2-0, congratulations KC! You've won the match!!"

"Advancing to our elimination round as the second-place team, congratulations CFO!! I think..."

"This is also... the worst foreign match history in LPL history."

"We will create new history!"

Afterwards, the lead singer took a deep breath, the drummer beat the taiko drum, ready, go"

"Hearing you say~foreign match watch T1

"Roadside, a lump, being pulled by chicken-rabbit spinning top

Uesugi Muneyuki couldn't help but stop his movement, he pursed his lips and smiled at Eto Miyabi: "I feel like I've heard this song many times before, but I don't know why, not only do I never tire of hearing it a hundred times, but each time I hear it, I feel something new."

"This is probably what they mean by 'the more you look, the newer it seems.'" Eto Miyabi laughed brightly, eyes shining: "Classics remain classic because they always stay current, always have a boomerang."

"Haha, there's a saying, and it's true."

After speaking, both stopped moving and listened to the song.

"I've grown used to you suddenly being chased by three, foreign match total defeat, LPL becoming a joke"

"Oh oh oh oh oh~"