Chapter 7: Bent Knees
The young man opened his eyes and took a deep breath, as if waking up from drowning. After gasping for air, he immediately coughed up a lot of blood.
Waves of tearing pain came from his chest and abdomen.
He wanted to get up, but his hands and feet were tightly bound, making it impossible to move. Instead, his limbs were constricted, blood stagnated, and he felt a cold and throbbing pain.
"Ha, ha…"
After a few heavy breaths, he looked around. It was a dim and empty warehouse with cold night wind and the moonlight barely reflected upon the rusted metal walls.
"A big dream for twenty years and this is the beginning…?"
Leaning against the pillar, Bai Wei exhaled slowly.
Life had a fast-forward button.
However, while some people only took a step before reaching their graves, he skipped over his childhood and teenage years.
The memory awakening accompanied the change in personality - it was a gradual process and a time-consuming undertaking.
While it might be quicker to select a dying unfortunate to complete the process of "borrowing a corpse to restore a soul", it would inevitably bring unnecessary troubles.
Past experiences in Bai Wei's life were akin to a long dream.
Upon waking up, he remained himself. The memories of the dream, some were remembered, while others were forgotten.
Ambiguous memories were not so important as no one remained unchanged.
The point of arrival was 500 years after the collapse of the Empire, in the year 1980 AD.
The destination beneath his feet was the easternmost territory, Cherry Island.
Due to significant disparities in history, Cherry Island still maintained the shogunate system. However, it was gradually moving towards modernization. Its economic development corresponded to the first wave of flourishing population dividends.
Accordingly, the social atmosphere remained in the Taisho era and had yet to improve after the Meiji Restoration. The people's state of mind could not keep up with the pace of the times' development, and likewise, this era was unparalleled.
Though Cherry Island is not the most influential actor on the East-West chessboard, it is like a counterweight hanging in the frail balance.
"However, this has nothing to do with my current situation."
"I have been kidnapped now."
"It has been a long time since such a shameful beginning."
Bai Wei showed a cruel smile, "These gangsters are really daring."
I have even crushed the skulls of the King of Demons and the Archangel… and yet I was ambushed by a group of small thugs.
He moved his fingers and relaxed his muscles, slowly pulling his wrists away from the tight ropes.
However, the binding was really tight. He shifted his body and pressed himself to the ground. He picked up a piece of broken glass, and the sharp edge cut his palm.
After about a minute, the rope was cut, and his hands were freed. Soon after, the rope around his feet was untied.
The blocked blood flowed smoothly again, causing a tingling sensation in his limbs.
The internal injuries were temporarily under control without worsening. It seemed to be an old injury that caused the rupture of his organs and internal bleeding. Although he couldn't die in the short term, it couldn't be predicted after ten hours.
At a young age of twenty, he already had an old injury. Alas, it must have been caused by practicing martial arts recklessly, exerting force carelessly, injuring his fragile internal organs.
"The starting point is really low, too ordinary."
Bai Wei clenched his fist. Compared to the Third Prince's situation at the beginning of the previous life, this time it can be said that he was starting from scratch.
In the previous life, even without using the emperor's golden eyes, there were more than ten different blessings and protections.
Now, he couldn't feel any extra source of power from this body, and it wasn't even an heroic spirit.
It's not to say that the heroic spirits are of lower class.
Among the complex system of powers, heroic spirits are the few individuals born powerful.
Heroic spirits cannot be inherited through bloodline, but are destined at birth.
Many people view this as luck, but in fact, every present-day heroic spirit is a renowned hero who left a legendary name in the previous world.
However, the past traces of some heroic spirits are simply untraceable.
For instance, there is Lillianu, a rare high-ranking heroic spirit in the world, yet her past has not been engraved in the history of this world, and she lived her whole life without awakening memories related to her past life, perhaps due to wear and tear, or perhaps due to deletion.
In other words, she is a foreigner, her past life existed in another world, and her soul drifted here after death.
During his reign as the emperor, Bai Wei has encountered fifteen lower-ranked heroic spirits, while he has only encountered two high-ranked ones.
Therefore, lower-ranked spirits are not uncommon, but what is truly rare are the high-ranked ones.
Bai Wei pondered on the fact that he, as a reincarnated emperor with memories, could not even have a high-ranked heroic spirit…
"Does this make sense?"
"Think positively, perhaps in five hundred years there will be no more heroic spirits, and world peace will reign forever."
Bai Wei comforted himself with a smile.
Having strength is a good thing; at least one could protect oneself in danger. Without strength, one should at least keep an optimistic mindset.
Facing death with a smile.
He rubbed his wrist and walked up to the slightly illuminated door.
The half-closed door separated him from a group of ringleaders who were making a racket.
…
The underworld is a violent organization that, like the social structure of Yingzhou, retains a hierarchical system.
The only difference is that this violent organization has retained a more enlightened path for advancement than normal society.
Those who bring greater benefits can rise to higher positions.
The younger brothers fight and struggle to bring actual benefits to the boss. One person gains power and influence, and the more famous and numerous the group, the more streets they control and the more territories they have.
There were two factions of gangster in old Edo: the Warrior Society and the Kanto Federation.
The former was composed of the remaining samurai class after the collapse of the shogunate system; the latter was a more direct gangster group, a united organization composed of various factions and groups.
The Sanada Group is considered a second-tier organization within the Kanto Federation, with around 50 members within the group's core and excluding peripheral members.
There were a total of five individuals in the warehouse, all of whom were underlings of the Sanada Group's leaders and represented members of the core martial arts faction. This group of people, once they appeared, would quickly escalate the situation to a fever pitch.
Furthermore, most of these people were outlaws who were combative and had some inhumane tendencies, and would not care about the serious consequences of their actions. In Yingzhou, where social order stagnated during the Taisho era, these martial arts factions were the foundation of the existence of gang organizations.
In the dilapidated and drafty warehouse, the Sanada Group's gangsters were gambling.
"That Sato guy is really slow."
"Why hasn't he come back yet? I'm starving."
"Was he hit by a car halfway? Hahaha."
"Shall we find someone to have a look?"
"It's raining and getting dark, and I'm not willing to find a newly hired rookie who has only been working for three months."
This group of gangsters, laughing and joking, never considered any other possibility. This area belongs to them, and there are no residents left long ago.
If one gets run over on the road, it can only be attributed to bad luck. But this isn't necessarily a bad thing, as long as the person isn't dead.
If the car owner is caught, one can viciously extort a sum, or turn the other party into a long-term cash cow.
Can one be called a gangster if they are not scum?
Loyalty is nothing but a quality that is scarcely worthy of being called human in this profession.
The gangsters continued to make noise, smoke, and gamble, enjoying themselves.
Boom!
Suddenly, a hollow and oppressive sound shattered the lively atmosphere.
The severely rusted lock of the warehouse door, which was already suffering from oxidation, was kicked open by a foot. The iron door collapsed on the ground.
Cold wind and rain poured in, and the gangsters, who were bare-chested, shuddered with cold.
Inside the pitch-black door frame, figures were indistinctly discernible, and the dim light made them hard to see.
A well-known gangster stood up and questioned in a deep and sonorous voice, "Who goes there?"
"It's your father!"
A red brick sliced through the air, splattering the remaining rainwater and accurately hitting the forehead of a gangster. It shattered with a thud and stained the brick red with blood.
The gangsters were bursting with fury.
They each grabbed something at hand to use as a deadly weapon.
A figure slowly strolled into the warehouse in the darkness.
He leisurely twisted his wrist and then pulled out two pieces of brick from his sleeve.
The young man raised his head.
The exposed smile was not sunny or healthy, but filled with cold arrogance.
"Kneel down, sinners."
