Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 233: Sakura and Red Lotus (2)

Dragon Raja 3

Ghosts who surrendered were condemned to life imprisonment. In the Heian era, the Yamata no Orochi clan had built a black prison within the mountains of Kobe to imprison the ghosts that emerged within the family. After the Meiji Restoration, the family adopted Western humanitarian ideals and sealed the prison. Now, the rusted iron doors had been reopened.

Even members of the National Diet were shocked by this secret yakuza war. In just a few days, hundreds were dead and thousands were injured, enough to call it a small-scale war. If the conflict continued, it would inevitably involve innocent people, creating severe societal problems. Through various channels, they ordered the Yamata no Orochi clan to cease their operations, emphasizing that the government would not tolerate crime. They warned that if the fighting didn’t stop, the Self-Defense Forces would intervene. But the Yamata no Orochi clan shut down all communication channels and pressed forward with their plan.

Sakurai Kogure understood the Yamata no Orochi clan’s intentions. As long as they completely eradicated the Oni Clan before the new anti-yakuza legislation passed in the National Diet, it would be a successful blitzkrieg. By the time anyone realized what had happened, the war would already be over.

The desire for war inherited from the dragons had always flowed through the blood of the hybrids. A march of three thousand miles, slaughtering a hundred thousand in anger—such had always been the way of dragon-kind warfare.

The crimson windows were swallowed by flames, the wood bending and creaking under the heat.

“I can only accompany you this far. From here on, take care of yourself.” Sakurai Kogure glanced at the blood-red kimono hanging on the rack by the window.

The kimono fluttered in the fiery wind as if someone were wearing it and dancing. Its edges were singed, making it look like a burning butterfly.

On the hilltop, Chisei sat watching the flaming pavilion. Suddenly, he recalled that night when he had looked down from the helicopter as the massive Sumeru Throne slowly sank into the sea, surrounded by crashing waves. In that moment, Chisei felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow in the heavens and the earth, as if the Sumeru Throne were a dying whale, letting out a silent cry to the sky.

“With the fall of the Elysium Hall, the Oni Clan’s power will be completely uprooted. Every faction has now sworn allegiance to our clan. Elysium Hall was their largest cash source. Burning it down means the remnants of their power will have no means to struggle further.” Sakura stood behind Chisei, dressed in a black suit, covered by a long black coat, with a pure white tie.

Tonight, the officers of the Execution Bureau all wore white ties in mourning for the dead. But despite the mourning, they would show no mercy.

The fall of the Elysium Hall was a symbolic event in this yakuza war. To those in the underworld, Elysium Hall was synonymous with the Oni Clan. It was a place where money and desires were exchanged freely, bringing in vast sums of wealth for the Oni Clan. Though the Yamata no Orochi clan had long despised its audacity, they hadn’t dared to touch it before, as it was heavily guarded and protected by powerful individuals. If the Oni Clan’s influence across the country was like a spider’s web, then Elysium Hall was the spider’s nest. The destruction of the nest signaled the death of the spider.

The attack on Elysium Hall was carried out by the Execution Bureau, a display of thunderous force, while the family used a softer approach. Just yesterday, a “pardon” issued by the Yamata no Orochi clan began circulating among yakuza gangs. According to the pardon, the gangs that had once pledged loyalty to the Oni Clan would be absolved of any guilt as long as they now swore allegiance to the Yamata no Orochi clan. They would also be granted the family’s grace, including access to a retirement fund generously established by the clan. These dual methods—force and persuasion—caused the Oni Clan’s power to crumble rapidly across the country. Wherever the pardon reached, small gangs announced their loyalty to the family. From now on, there would only be one master of Japan’s underworld: the Yamata no Orochi clan. Their power would reign supreme, ending all violence by ultimately dominating it.

The prophecy of Tachibana was about to come true, faster than Chisei had expected. Just a few days ago, Tachibana had announced that he would step down from his position as head of the family, and that the young master, Chisei, would take over leadership of the Yamata no Orochi clan and its tens of thousands of subordinates. At the time, the family’s elders had thought the decision was too hasty, but Chisei’s swift victories soon convinced them. As the Execution Bureau swept through the Oni Clan’s forces from the south to the north, Chisei’s prestige grew by the day. Tachibana had worked diligently in his position for ten years, yet Chisei had surpassed him in just a few days.

Chisei knew this was all part of Tachibana’s plan. Masamune had spent ten years preparing for this war, secretly sharpening his blade, but when the time came to strike down the enemy, he handed the glory to Chisei. All Chisei had to do was follow the plan step by step. It was like those daimyos of the Sengoku era, who, when close to death, would summon their sons, show them the army they had trained for ten years, and say, “Son, after I die, you will lead this army to wipe out our enemies. I’ve already mapped out the route, written on the pillow beside me.” After the son took the throne and led the army to victory, crushing their nation’s greatest foe in a sweeping campaign, he would return to the cheering crowds, and everyone would believe him to be even more brilliant and powerful than his father, filling them with hope for the future. In truth, it was simply the father’s painstakingly prepared future being handed down to the son.

But Chisei had no desire for this family’s future.

A black Hummer came up the mountain road, braking sharply. Crow jumped out, carrying a silenced pistol in one hand and a folder in the other, looking impeccably sharp with his thin-rimmed glasses.

“Administrative work is so tedious. Can’t I just go fight like Yasha?” Crow quickly stepped behind Chisei, complaining first, then opening his folder. “We’ve captured seventeen of them, but three are still missing.”

The Execution Bureau had set up roadblocks on the mountain paths, inspecting every car that fled from Elysium Hall. Armed patrols roamed the mountain roads. Uninvolved individuals were allowed to leave freely, and the Execution Bureau treated them politely without causing trouble. But for anyone whose name appeared on a certain list, they would be hooded in black and shoved into a truck. Everyone on that list was a “ghost,” a dangerous hybrid with bloodlines that the Yamata no Orochi clan refused to let escape their control.

Chisei took the list and glanced at it. The three unchecked names were: “Osho: Unknown,” “Dragon King: Unknown,” and “Ryoma: Sakurai Kogure.”

The leaders within the Oni Clan used pieces from shogi, Japanese chess, as their code names. Tachibana had spent ten years investigating these individuals, but the real identities of Osho and Dragon King remained a mystery. Even the gangs loyal to the Oni Clan had never seen these two figures. The highest-ranking known member of the Oni Clan was Ryoma, who was actually Sakurai Kogure, though she appeared to be just the manager of Elysium Hall. Many ignorant people lusted after her beauty, unaware of her high status within the Oni Clan.

No one knew if Osho and Dragon King even existed, but since there was a Ryoma, it was logical to assume that higher-ranking figures might also exist.

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