Chapter 280: White Dragon's Roar

Chapter 280: White Dragon's Lament

The northern district of Inuyama, at the Mokuzo River dock.

December’s cold rain pounds the black, somber river, sending ripples churning like boiling broth.

Dozens of labor slaves brave the downpour, carefully ferrying cargo onto a freighter.

Brutish men with fierce expressions guard the shore, their chests marked by badges etched with three golden dragon scales.

The outer edges of the dock teem with figures—members of the Huoshi Group patrol without pause.

“Move with care! Don’t damage the sealant film—if water seeps in and ruins the goods, your lives won’t cover the cost!”

The overseer barking orders strains his voice, shouting incessantly.

Nearby, a mountain of crates holds a young man in black combat gear standing in the rain, gazing silently at the neon-lit city beyond.

The dock’s searchlight sweeps across, illuminating a stern, coldly handsome face.

As the secretary of the Huoshi Group’s eastern branch, his mood is foul.

Not merely from the maddening weather, but because the northern distributor, North Three, has vanished for over twenty-four hours.

For safety’s sake, he must relocate this shipment from Lingshan Guard.

Worse still, he’s just learned that Tanibei, the negotiator dispatched by the Edo headquarters, has been framed as a rebel and executed on the spot by Inuyama’s Imperial Guards—a million silver taels confiscated as ill-gotten gains.

The lost taels are trivial; the real headache is the Imperial Guards’ brazen stance and the headquarters’ orders to endure.

“Those lunatics in the Combat Division—useless as ever! They stir up trouble and leave us to clean it up!”

Of course, Bai Long Yin dares not voice this aloud.

After all, the dead man bore the Huoshi surname.

Such a name isn’t one an outsider like him can casually disparage.

Recalling this, his rage deepens. He glares at the bustling dock and shouts, “Speed it up! If you can’t load the cargo in an hour, you’re all expelled from the Huoshi Group!”

His voice cuts sharper than the cold rain and biting wind. The laborers, already anxious about the sealant film’s integrity, grow even more tense.

After all, the Huoshi Group is one of the four great companies in the Wa-min district, offering benefits and stability far beyond smaller firms. Their positions even pass from father to son, brother to brother.

So long as the Group remains intact and he avoids elimination, this livelihood ensures his family’s survival until their genes wither into obscurity.

“Did you hear Lord Bai? You wastes of space—if you don’t want to end up like those bandits outside the city, move faster!”

The overseer brandishes his rubber baton, rapping the metal crates with sharp clangs.

Perhaps the storm has made the ground treacherously slick. Or perhaps the overseer’s threats have chilled their blood.

A loaded forklift suddenly skids, its screeching tires grinding to a halt with a acrid stench.

Yet no amount of maneuvering stops its inevitable overturn.

*Crash!*

The crate on the forklift’s arm plummets to the ground, its sealant film rupturing, the box splitting open to reveal glinting new firearms tumbling out.

“You incompetent fool—can’t even handle a forklift! I’ll see you stripped of your post! Get up, get up!”

The already furious overseer charges forward, raising his baton to strike the dazed driver sprawled in the mud.

In the chaos, the driver takes a blow to the head, blood streaming.

But he dares not wipe it away, frantically tearing off his uniform to stuff the scattered guns into his clothes, wrapping them tightly.

Any hesitation, and he’d lose his position.

“Stop gawking, you idiots! How long are you going to stare? No wonder your genes are so rotten you can’t even withstand rejection from prosthetics—this is all you’re fit for!”

The overseer’s face darkens, still railing in the odd cadences of the Great Ming dialect, oblivious to the laborers’ frozen stares and widening fear.

“Your genes must be something special, then?”

A clear, resonant voice rings out behind him.

“Who’s talking back? You asking for death?”

The overseer, still seething, doesn’t think twice—he roars back and raises his baton to teach this insolent wretch a lesson.

But as he turns, a chill grips his chest.

Ice and numbness spread through him. He stares in shock as a blade protrudes from his torso, thrusting forward.

“Ahh… ahh…”

His mouth opens and closes, emitting fragmented, meaningless murmurs.

“Tch, this feel’s off—not like a mechanized soul. More like a wolf’s heart and a dog’s guts.”

The blade writhes within his body, its tone laced with mockery and scorn. “Oh, so your genes aren’t worth much either.”

*Thud!*

As the blade is yanked free, a gush of suppressed blood erupts, staining the overseer’s body crimson—a ghastly sight.

“He’s dead! Overseer Yamamoto’s been killed!”

The vivid scarlet spreads like a burning ember, igniting terror in the laborers’ hearts.

Panic erupts uncontrollably. The frightened workers scatter, only to be herded back by Huoshi Group members, left cowering on the ground, clutching their heads in dread.

*Clang!* The sound of gun bolts racking echoes, twin gazes brimming with lethal intent.

They wait for the signal—those muzzles will unleash a torrent of molten metal to tear the madman apart.

Yet the killer stands atop the corpse, his long blade held before him, its tip tracing the ring of gun barrels before settling on Bai Long Yin’s grim face.

“Little Wa-bandit, you sure you want those guns aimed at the Imperial Guards?”

“Fan… Wu… Jiu!”

Bai Long Yin enunciates each syllable, his wolf-like glare baring fangs of intent.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

At that moment, gunfire erupts violently from the dock’s periphery, mingling with piercing screams and the tearing sounds of blades rending flesh.

The gunfire’s suddenness is matched only by its swift cessation.

Before Bai Long Yin can react, figures clad in flying fish uniforms already stand behind Fan Wu Jiu.

“If I heard right, you just called out my name?”

Fan Wu Jiu plucks his left ear with a finger, tilting his gaze to scrutinize Bai Long Yin.

“The Great Ming Law’s Criminal Zone Statute states: any criminal who dares speak a court official’s name aloud shall be beaten twenty times. Will you do it yourself, or shall I?”