The Black Dragon Association.
One of Tokyo’s three major yakuza organizations, what people commonly called a gang.
The organization had risen twenty years ago.
Its chairman had originally been a butcher.
Unwilling to keep being exploited by the local underworld, he rose in resistance and ended up walking this road.
With one knife and a few brothers at his side, he carved his way to his current position.
Even now, twenty years later, with the chairman past the age of fifty, the bloody scent from his youth seemed to linger on him.
Even his own subordinates could not help feeling fear when they looked at his back.
Especially now, when his subordinate reported that one of his casinos had been swept clean and 300 million yen had been taken.
The casino manager who had escaped disaster at Makoto’s hands failed to escape his own boss.
A knife had pierced straight through his heart.
Even two hours later, the corpse remained in the hall, not yet dragged away.
Blood covered the floor, making the other members of the Black Dragon Association tremble with fear and keep their mouths shut.
Except for his son.
“Father, he’s just a teenager.
Do we really need to spend so much money putting a bounty on his head?” The boss of the Black Dragon Association had spent his life fighting.
From nothing, he had become wealthy and powerful, dominating Tokyo’s underworld.
One could say he had no regrets.
The only thing he could not stop worrying about was his son.
He had protected the boy too well.
All day long, the boy did nothing but cause trouble.
He was no longer the man he had once been.
Sooner or later, the Black Dragon Association would have to be handed to his son.
But seeing his son wear an expression that said, He’s just a brat, I could take a few men and kill him myself, the old man truly could not feel at ease handing the Black Dragon Association over to him.
“Did you listen to Inoue’s report at all?
Dozens of our men were sent flying the moment they came within one meter of that brat.
Do you know what that means?” “What?” “It means he isn’t an ordinary person.” Yes.
The chairman of the Black Dragon Association knew perfectly well that this world was not as simple as it appeared.
There were many humans who had grasped supernatural power.
And those people were not people the Black Dragon Association could afford to offend.
“If he isn’t ordinary, then what is he?
Does he have three heads and six arms?” “To us, people like that might as well have three heads and six arms.” Having climbed to his current position, it was not strange that the Black Dragon chairman knew a little about the Jujutsu world.
He simply did not know yet whether Makoto was a Jujutsu sorcerer or a curse user.
Jujutsu sorcerers were people like Satoru Gojo, while curse users were sorcerers who moved through the gray areas.
To put it simply, one side was righteous and the other evil.
Both were sorcerers, but they stood in different camps.
He judged that Makoto was most likely a curse user.
Compared with ordinary humans, Jujutsu sorcerers were rarer than pandas.
Normally, they were either exorcising cursed spirits or on the way to exorcise cursed spirits.
They were desperately short on manpower.
Those fools had nothing but righteousness and morality in their heads, like Spider-Man, taking exorcising cursed spirits and protecting humanity as their mission.
Curse users were different.
They were not bound by morality or law, and there was nothing they would not do.
Just like Jiro Awasaka, the man he had commissioned this time.
A criminal who took pleasure in torturing and killing humans.
“But even then, we’ve already spent 20 million putting a bounty on him.
Why are we also spending so much effort moving around 400 million in cash?” “To buy peace.” The old man said no more.
…
The perspective returned to the other side.
A sound tore through the air.
Makoto was attacked.
He turned his body sideways and dodged.
With his superhuman senses, that killing blow almost scraped past his head.
It was a dagger.
Makoto’s expression tightened.
He raised his head and looked above him.
A strangely dressed man stood there, looking down at him.
The man looked fairly old, around forty or more.
He wore tight black shorts, a white short vest, and a belly band around his waist.
His mustache was split into two points, and he looked at Makoto with an expression somewhere between smiling and not.
“Who are you?” Makoto looked straight at him, calm and unafraid.
“Who?
Who am I?
Who would be good…
Why, the one who’s going to kill you, of course!” The man asked himself the question, then answered it with certainty, his manner both ridiculous and cruel.
Another madman.
A curse user?
Jujutsu sorcerers did not attack people without reason.
They had their own laws.
Any Jujutsu sorcerer who violated those laws would be personally judged by the higher-ups of the Jujutsu world.
There was nothing more to say.
Makoto did not intend to think about who had placed a bounty on his head.
He had offended plenty of underworld organizations this afternoon.
The other party wasted no more words.
He leapt down from the air, diving with that half-smiling face.
Bang.
Makoto dodged the attack, turned, and swept out a whip-like kick.
It was heavy, fast, and came from a vicious angle.
The other man failed to dodge in time.
Like trash casually thrown away, his whole body was sent flying by Makoto’s kick.
So weak.
Were curse users only trash like this?
This was completely different from fighting Toji Fushiguro.
When he fought Toji, the pressure Toji gave him was so enormous he could not relax for even a moment.
Terrifying speed and beastlike battle instinct.
Any mistake Makoto made would put him on the ground.
But the man in front of him…
Strength, speed, reaction.
All of it was below Makoto’s.
“Like a lion facing an attack from a cat.” Makoto stepped forward to finish him off.
He did not have a habit of leaving enemies alive.
If he cut weeds, he pulled out the roots.
“A lion?
Are you saying I’m a lion?
That makes me so happy!” What?
Makoto was about to end the enemy, but at that moment, the man raised his head.
His expression, his posture; none of it looked like someone who had been badly injured.
Pfft.
A cold silver light sliced toward him.
Makoto could not evade in time.
His chest was cut open, and blood spilled from the wound, staining his clothes red in an instant.
Before he could catch his breath, the other man had already attacked with his knife.
Every slash was like a venomous snake, stabbing toward Makoto’s vital points.
But the same thing still applied.
Too weak.
Makoto swung a fist.
More than a month of training had already taught him how to bring out his own potential.
Bang.
The unstoppable punch struck the enemy square in the face, caving his features in.
Makoto did not stop there.
His other hand was already charged and waiting.
He blasted it out, aiming straight for the man’s skull.
But did you think that was the end?
Of course not.
Like King Crimson, he launched a fierce assault.
His fists fell densely as rain, all of them pouring onto the enemy’s body.
Every punch carried one hundred percent of his maximum output.
The other man was like a small boat facing a giant wave, his whole body shaking under the barrage.
Makoto unleashed well over a hundred punches, and only after smashing the man into the wall with a final strike did he stop.
“You should be dead now, right?”