Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 79: Road to the Underworld (3)

Dragon Raja 3

“Patriarch, all the participants have arrived. From the Strategy Department: Ishifune, Niu Iwa, Sakamori, and other elders; the heads of the Liaison Department and their subordinates—thirty-four in total; one hundred and thirty-four members of the Five Lesser Clans; the heads and captains of Cassell College’s Japanese branch’s Kanto and Kansai divisions—thirty-six in total; fourteen from the Ganryū Research Institute, seven from Maruyama Construction… four hundred and forty people in all.” The secretary in black presented the attendance list to the silver-haired elder. “Please review it, Masamune-sama.”

“Where’s Chisei? What’s the point of holding a meeting without him?” Masamune looked at the only empty seat in the hall. “Yasha, Crow, where’s Chisei?”

Crow stepped out from the back row with small, shuffling steps. “The young master has been here for a while, patrolling the area to ensure the safety of all the clan heads. He probably hasn’t been notified that everyone is present. Yasha and I will go inform him immediately!”

Heavy raindrops shattered on the glass windows, and from atop the mountain overlooking Tokyo, the city below seemed like a hazy mirage. In the darkened inner sanctum behind the main shrine, Chisei sat by the window, drinking from a bottle of eighteen-year-old Yamazaki whiskey, staring blankly at the rainy scene outside.

“Young master, the patriarch and the heads of the families have all arrived,” Crow slipped in stealthily, leaning close to Chisei’s ear. “They’re all waiting for you. If you don’t go soon, they’ll start talking again!”

“Got it. I’ll go after finishing this glass.” Chisei frowned. “You and Yasha are both here attending the meeting—who’s watching Caesar’s group?”

“Sakura is there. Young master, you must be drunk—you were the one who said that Yasha and I were unreliable, and that it’s better for Sakura to keep an eye on them,” Crow said, taking out some mouthwash. “Rinse your mouth before going to the main hall. Don’t let them smell the alcohol, and remember, I told them you were patrolling. Don’t let it slip.”

At that moment, Yasha was keeping watch at the door to prevent anyone from approaching the inner sanctum and discovering the overwhelming smell of alcohol inside. Yasha and Crow both knew that the reason Chisei hadn’t shown up was that he had drunk too much. Chisei always felt uncomfortable at these clan gatherings, often finding various excuses to avoid them. If this meeting weren’t important enough to be unavoidable, he would likely have found a reason to slip away, claiming he needed to keep an eye on the agents from the main branch. Of course, such words could never be spoken aloud. As the young master of the family, if he seemed unwilling to face his loyal subordinates, it would chill everyone’s hearts. Rumors that the young master had studied in America, preferred a Western lifestyle, and was out of place in Japan had already spread widely within the clan. Fortunately, the younger generation who had also studied at Cassell College supported Chisei, so things weren’t too bad.

“I just remembered,” Chisei patted his forehead. “I couldn’t leave you two alone at the Peninsula Hotel; you’d end up hanging the main branch agents naked from Tokyo Tower, right?”

“Young master, you have a prejudice against Yasha and me. We might be perverts, but we have no interest in male nudity. But think about it—if Sakura turned out to be a closet pervert, she might enjoy it.” Crow joked.

“If Sakura liked male nudity, it wouldn’t be perverted, but you two definitely are,” Chisei swayed slightly.

“Oh my, drinking this much?” Crow quickly held him steady. “I’ll go ahead and say you’re changing clothes, and don’t drink anymore after this! And please, remember to use the mouthwash!”

As he spoke, he stumbled out. In this type of clan gathering, everyone present was of a higher status than him and Yasha. If they left and didn’t return, they might be punished.

After closing the door, Crow peeked through the crack again. Chisei was still sitting silently by the window, his back exuding a sense of weariness—not towards any specific person, but towards the whole world. Crow sighed softly.

Sometimes, while drinking with Yasha, they both expressed concern about their futures. They had once been renowned elites within the organization, earning their positions by shedding blood on the battlefield, which granted them the honor of directly serving the young master. They felt fortunate that their young master, not only of noble birth but also as sharp as a fine blade, was someone whose abilities and character commanded respect. In just three years of leading the Execution Bureau, Chisei had turned it into the strongest department within the Japanese Branch, with the entire institution revolving around it. There was no doubt that the next head of the Japanese Branch would be Chisei, and within the clan, he was already established as the successor to Masamune. One day, he would become the emperor of Japan’s underworld.

According to tradition, both Crow and Yasha would also rise in prominence alongside the new clan head, becoming part of the next generation’s power center. However, Chisei was surprisingly a man without many desires. He fought on the front lines of the Execution Bureau out of a sense of responsibility. Though he performed well with just that sense of duty, a man without desire could never truly lead the Yamata no Orochi clan. The clan collected over 30 billion yen annually from the Japanese underworld, with additional assets bringing in hundreds of billions more. It should be managed by a man capable of decisive action—someone whose very name would evoke terror, almost like a spirit.

The mention of his name should make people tremble! Yet Chisei’s life goal was to retire to France to sell sunscreen. At first, Crow and Yasha thought he was joking, until they saw the Montalevé Beach photo on his desk and his collection of various sunscreens to study their UV blocking efficiency and cost-effectiveness. Only then did they believe that their young master really dreamed of spending his life lounging on a nudist beach. To Chisei, Tokyo was like a cage. And by old customs, once you served the young master, your loyalty was lifelong; it wasn’t something you could resign from at will. Even if Chisei decided to sell sunscreen, Crow and Yasha would have to follow him—standing in the background with their all-black attire and “death to those who block my way” demeanor while Chisei, dressed in plaid shirts, rubbed sunscreen on bikini-clad women. The mere thought left Crow feeling disillusioned and despondent.

Chisei poured the remaining whiskey from the bottle onto the blade, the blue glow from the steel reflecting the cold light. The sword bore the inscription “Spider Slayer of Mount Suzuka,” and its name was “Kumogiri.” It had been passed down for over a thousand years, and each successive owner had used it to slay various supernatural beings, leaving behind numerous legendary tales. Chisei had used this very sword to pierce Akira’s heart, and since then, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fallen one.

Akira was beyond being considered human before he died—more like a terrifying “Ao Oni” demon fit for ukiyo-e illustrations. In ancient times, clan priests might have romanticized Chisei’s slaying of Akira, portraying it as the heroic act of eliminating a demon preying upon women. But Chisei could not perceive Akira as just a demon; even when the long sword pierced his heart, Akira smiled. That smile was grotesque, chilling, yet filled with biting ridicule.

The dying fallen one had used his last strength to ridicule his executor. Chisei had been so shocked that his hand holding the blade froze. Luckily, Akira had not fought back in that moment; the next second, he stopped breathing. The blackened blood in his heart gushed along the blade. When Chisei went to examine his face, he could no longer see any hint of sarcasm. The new scales covering Akira’s body fell off, revealing a young face illuminated by the setting sun through a broken window, like a sleeping child. Meanwhile, Chisei stood in the dark corner, panting, his blade stained with splotches of blood.

A moth born in darkness had finally burned itself in a flame, showing an expression of redemption even in death—it was absurd.

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