Chapter 278: Benevolent Capital

Chapter 278: Rende Capital

"Li Jun, I advise you not to proceed with this, lest it tear open old wounds—none shall benefit from such discord!"

Tian Pingba’s tone was harsh, yet his body tensed in silence, his eyes darting wildly as he schemed escape routes.

"Whose wounds? The Akumyo Group?"

Li Jun sneered, "Today, the Imperial Guards in Byakutei’s mixed quarters of Inuzaka captured a konghoku bandit, seizing ten million yuan in stolen silver notes. What connection does this have with the Akumyo Group?"

Clang!

At that moment, a sharp, melodious blade-song rang out as the Spring Embroidery Blade struck his shoulder, pinning the suddenly upright Tian Pingba back to his knees.

Fan Wujiu materialized behind Tian Pingba without warning, one hand gripping the blade, the other clutching a bath towel at his waist, his face a mask of irritation and malice.

"Li Jun, think carefully—killing me would make you an enemy of the Akumyo Group. It’s a losing proposition; you’ll regret it in time!"

"As for you barbarians, I speak only of justice, not profit."

With those words, Li Jun turned away from Tian Pingba and addressed Fan Wujiu with detached calm: "Master Fan, what is your stance on the konghoku rebels?"

"Of course—death without mercy!"

Fan Wujiu bared a row of pearly white teeth, raised his arm without hesitation, and swung the blade!

Pfft-chi!

A geyser of blood erupted as Tian Pingba’s head toppled with a splash, his eyes bulging in frozen horror.

Li Jun glanced sideways at the ghostly King Da at his side, "Boss, today feels like a fortunate day!"

The latter, reeking of strong liquor, his beard bristling, wore a smile etched with mirth.

"Double blessings, double blessings!"

His clapping hands rippled the pool’s surface, sending humid heat spiraling upward, drifting through the windows into the pitch-black night.

Captured by the wind, it merged with gathering clouds, dissolving into the nourishment of a storm.

Rumble-rumble.

Thunder surged, and rain poured down in torrents.

The fierce downpour engulfed all of Joi City, mercilessly shattering every airborne advertisement projection, finally pelting down upon cold, solemn faces.

These lean, agile men ignored the clamor of wind and rain, their fingers curled around triggers or knife hilts, their piercing eyes scanning endlessly. All remained silent, shoulders pressed together, forming a wall of oppressive force guarding the towering skyscraper behind them.

Beneath the clouds, several armed airships risked crashing as they circled the building. The words "Rende Capital" painted on their hulls flickered in and out amid the thunder.

At the skyscraper’s peak, a horizontal and vertical banner of vermilion characters spelled out a golden eternal slogan: "The Empire’s Benevolence Shall Protect My People."

When the rumbling storm entered the building, it became nearly inaudible.

More than ten elevators cycled endlessly, ferrying groups of solemn-faced Japanese men into this vast space resembling a plaza.

After a long while, when the elevators finally ceased, a red-lacquered torii gate at the plaza’s center was already crowded with a sea of black heads.

These men wore identical black haori, yet distinctions were clear. By the different family crests on their chests, one could discern they belonged to four separate factions.

At the plaza’s heart, directly facing the torii gate, stood figures with cold, haughty expressions, their badges depicting a blooming three-leaf sunflower.

They were the masters of this tower—the members of Rende Capital.

To their right stood men with "Eagle Feather" insignias: the San’en Heavy Industries.

To the far left, the crowd was noticeably more robust, their bodies bearing almost no traces of artificial limbs. They belonged to the Akumyo Group, their badges marked by three golden scales.

By imperial custom, the rightmost faction appeared slightly less imposing than the others.

Their badges bore the "Kikyou" pattern—an empty five-pointed star.

"The Assembly begins!"

A voice of austere age echoed from hidden speakers in the plaza’s corners.

Robes billowed like crashing waves, and all before the torii gate knelt in unison.

Now, three standing figures were highlighted.

Two men and one woman, each in haori or kimonos, their facial lines suggesting they had long surpassed the age of ambition.

The three left their respective ranks, ascending the steps with measured, grave strides.

At the steps’ end stood a shrine steeped in Japanese style.

Such structures were strictly forbidden after the conquest of the Japanese territories, existing ones ordered destroyed.

Yet here, atop Rende Capital’s tower, one such shrine had been quietly preserved. Judging by its weathered state, it was not newly built but relocated from elsewhere.

Before the shrine hung an audacious plaque bearing four crimson characters: "Mountain and River Revival."

Inside the shrine, someone had been waiting.

A silver-haired elder knelt on tatami mats, the walls behind him covered in bold, colorful ukiyo-e paintings.

The artwork depicted a Japanese region engulfed in flames, mountains crumbling, seas surging backward, four armies bearing different banners locked in desperate combat against armored Imperial troops.

Above the battlefield loomed endless black clouds, blotting out the sky.

A grotesque, terrifying dragon’s head emerged from the clouds, gazing down with disdain.

As the three entered, a faint dragon’s roar echoed from the walls. The eyes in the paintings seemed alive, fixed intently on their forms.

Their gazes burned with pure, seething hatred and a thirst for vengeance.

Were one to approach the wall, they would recoil in horror—these soldiers’ eyes were lifelike, not by the artist’s skill, but because they were real.

Actual human eyes!

"Do you feel it? The will of our ancestors who perished on the battlefield grows ever stronger for vengeance."

The voice did not merely echo in the shrine—it resonated throughout the entire floor, ringing in every ear.

Three colossal projections materialized before the torii gate, casting the shrine’s scene and the silver-haired elder’s figure.

"See!"

Amidst the crashing waves of sound, the master of Rende Capital—and head of the Tokugawa clan—stood slowly. The old man named Tokugawa Hiroshi rose, and the entire rooftop of Rende Tower fell silent as a pin dropped.

Countless eyes, belonging to the dead or the living, now gazed upon him in stillness.

"Gentlemen, we convene this New Year Assembly ahead of schedule, for on the first day of the first month, our homeland shall witness an earth-shattering event!"

"The New Donglin Party will unveil new policies on educating the sinner districts that day. They seek to divide our brotherhood and sever our bonds of flesh and blood through rank, silver, and sequence, reducing us to imperial slaves. Therefore..."

Tokugawa Hiroshi’s words halted abruptly. He slowly raised both arms, clenching his fists before his chest.

His eyes blazed with frenzied light, staring beyond the thick walls of the tower into the storm-laden sky.

"Our war against the Ming people is about to begin!"