Chapter 32: The Uprising (Part III)

Ginza is the largest and most prosperous commercial district in Kyoto. Since the 17th century, it has been world-renowned for its high-end style. As one of the world’s top three famous districts, it is a paradise of luxury, adorned with flagship stores of global brands, high-end trendsetting boutiques, and century-old restaurants.

The Ginza area is divided into eight blocks, intersected by the Chuo-dori and Tenkai-dori avenues. The most bustling heart of the district is Ginza 4-chome, known as the "Crossroads of 4-chome." Here, everything from time-honored shops to internationally acclaimed luxury brands, from elegant cafes to traditional Japanese confectionery, and from the national treasure of Kabuki to glittering, extravagant nightclubs, satisfies every imagination of "luxury," exuding a dreamlike radiance.

A seemingly modest Kabuki theater stands at the most prosperous intersection of 4-chome, occupying the central position of this bustling area. The theater is built in the traditional Japanese style, with an exterior that is refined rather than gaudy. Above the entrance hangs a plaque inscribed by Asakusa Megumi, the most renowned calligrapher in Japan, with the four characters "Clear Skies Clearing Clouds," which lend a touch of ancient artistic flair to the venue.

The interior is a mystery to outsiders, but everyone who has stepped inside praises it highly while never revealing a single detail. This sense of mystery and elegance makes the place the most famous social gathering spot for Kyoto’s elite, as well as the city’s most notorious den of vice. Those in the know, however, are aware that this theater is one of the most important assets of the Inaka-kai, the second-largest criminal organization in Japan.

It is now noon. Inside the theater, the music of Noh rings out clearly. Hundreds of men and women in diverse attire stare at the masked actors dancing gracefully on stage, nodding their heads to the rhythm, though it is unclear if they truly understand the performance.

At the entrance, two waitresses in traditional Japanese attire yawn softly, while several large men in black suits patrol the perimeter of the lobby, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.

Two men wearing baseball caps and loose casual clothing stroll into the lobby from outside.

"I’m sorry, sir, this performance is about to end," one of the waitresses says, walking up to them with a bow, her face displaying the gentle courtesy typical of Japanese women. "The next performance won’t begin until two o’clock in the afternoon..."

The waitress’s words are interrupted quite rudely. A slightly hoarse, unpleasant voice rings out: "No, sweetheart, we aren't here for the show. We’re here to deliver a gift."

"A gift?" The two waitresses look at each other, still mired in confusion, when they notice the young man who spoke smiling eerily. He rolls up his sleeve to reveal a dark, coiling dragon tattooed on his arm—the exclusive mark of the Jiao Long Society!

"You—" the two waitresses gasp in unison. Before they can react, the young man strikes like lightning. The waitresses feel a heavy blow to the neck, lose all strength in an instant, and collapse limply to the floor.

The commotion immediately draws the attention of the men in suits. "What do you think you’re doing?" they shout in unison, but before the sound fades, the two men in the center of the lobby pull out pistols and fire rapidly.

With a series of soft "puffs," the 9mm pistols equipped with silencers drill small holes into the foreheads of each man, and blood sprays out like a fountain.

"Ene—" A security guard who poked his head out of the guardroom upon hearing the noise starts to shout, but before he can finish the word, a bullet pierces his brow.

Chaos erupts inside the guardroom. Cries of "Bastards!" and "Someone’s causing trouble!" fill the air as several guards grab their guns and rush out.

"Dammit, you idiots! Find cover!" a voice bellows, but the warning comes too late. A bullet shatters the windowpane and burrows accurately into his chest, felling the experienced man backward. The guards who charge out in a disorganized mess are mowed down by a hail of gunfire. Immediately after, two melon-style grenades spin into the guardroom. With a deafening "boom," steel pellets spray throughout the small room, followed by a chorus of wails.

Before the smoke from the explosion clears, two figures storm into the room, their P9s spitting fire. In a moment, silence falls over the guardroom.

"The Eighth Boss will surely be satisfied with this operation!" one man says triumphantly. His companion barks back in a raspy voice: "Hurry up! We still have work to do!"

"Alright, alright. With the entire elite of the Jiao Long Society deployed, what could possibly go wrong?" the first man grumbles, and he and his companion dash out of the room.

Only after they are far away does a "corpse" in the corner of the guardroom move with great effort. It pulls out a phone, dials a number, and rasps, "This is... Hatta... Jiao Long... Jiao Long Society is attacking..."

"What?" a voice exclaims on the other end, then shouts, "What did you say? Speak more clearly..."

Hatta gasps for breath for a long time before struggling to say, "Jiao Long... Jiao Long..."

Before he can finish the word "Society," the blood pouring from his body drains away his remaining strength. His mouth moves weakly, but no more words emerge. His body slumps to the floor, and he falls silent. All that remains is the anxious voice on the phone: "Hatta! Hatta..."

Dozens of meters away, the man with the raspy voice suddenly speaks in a clear, sharp tone, mocking, "Did you really think I didn't notice you playing dead? I left you alive just so you could send that message..."

The other man runs to the corner and smashes the power distribution box with the butt of his P9. "Stop your damn yapping," he says with a laugh. "Countdown: 3, 2, 1—"

As the word "1" is spoken, the main power switch is pulled down, plunging the theater into darkness. Almost simultaneously, Song Jingang, marked number 1, kicks open the theater doors. Closing his eyes, he tosses two flashbangs into the air.

With two deafening bangs, a massive shockwave sweeps through the theater. Above the three-story auditorium, it is as if two small suns have suddenly erupted, searing the eyes of everyone inside.

"Ah—!"

The sudden, intense light triggers screams throughout the entire theater.

"Jiao Long Society business! Get out if you want to live!" Song Jingang bellows, firing a long burst from his P9 into the ceiling.

The theater falls silent for a heartbeat, followed by even more piercing screams. The audience, blinded by the flashbangs and unable to see a thing, wails and cries, scrambling frantically on all fours, clawing at everything in a desperate search for the exits.

"Woo-woo-woo—" In the distance, the wail of sirens rises, already within a kilometer.

"Damn, they’re fast," Luo Haoran exclaims in surprise. "Retreat!"