Only I Follow the Law: An Unorthodox Tokyo Cultivation Routine

On the side of the sentry codenamed Number One, he had just put down his walkie-talkie and was about to come over to check the situation when he bumped into Han Chuanyou.

"Intrusion detected!"

He roared and instantly drew his katana from his waist, slashing down at Han Chuan You's head.

He possessed the skill of a seventh-dan swordsman and was very confident in the speed of his sword strikes, certain that he could cut down the uninvited guest before he could even react.

Han Chuanyou leaned back slightly, and Qing Ling blocked the sword-drawing slash in front of him.

too slow.

The man's pupils contracted sharply.

This speed is wrong, it's too fast!

He gritted his teeth, raised his sword, shouted, and slashed down again.

Han Chuanyou stopped defending and stepped forward, while Qing Ling slashed horizontally.

A flash of light.

The katana in the man's hand was cleanly severed, half of the blade flying out and bouncing to the ground with a clatter. He felt a chill on his neck and raised his hand to touch it.

My hands were covered in blood.

His artery was severed. He desperately tried to cover the wound, but to no avail. Blood gushed out from between his fingers, and his legs gave way, causing him to collapse to his knees.

Extremely fast.

This was his last thought.

Han Chuanyou didn't turn around and walked straight ahead.

The other two sentries who rushed over upon hearing the news were kicked in the chest by him as soon as one of them rushed out from around the corner. His ribs made a sharp cracking sound, and he flew backward and crashed into the wall, landing limply on the ground, motionless.

The other one turned to run, but Han Chuanyou stabbed him through the shoulder with a backhand stroke, pinning him to the door. His scream was cut short as he was punched in the temple, his skull shattered, and his voice came to an abrupt halt.

Arriving at the main gate, Han Chuanyou kicked it hard.

"Bang!"

The wooden door, frame and all, flew inside and crashed onto the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Inside the room, seven or eight burly men, their clothes disheveled, emerged from the lounge and corridor, some carrying baseball bats and others wielding katanas.

They were startled by the sudden sound of the door being broken down, but quickly recovered and began to grumble and shove as they gathered around.

They all trembled when they saw the figure shrouded in mist before them, its form obscured.

"grim Reaper?"

One person couldn't help but speak up.

These days, the name Death is all over the place, said to descend upon the world specifically to judge sins.

These wicked people had certainly heard about it, and even joked about it, thinking it was just fake news exaggerated by the media to attract attention. They never expected to actually be come knocking on their door.

Han Chuanyou stepped through the door and into the room without saying a word, but the overwhelming pressure still made the people take a step back.

"Hurry! Few who see him will survive, or we'll be the ones who die!"

"Exactly! Let's all go together!"

"Nisuchi!"

They mustered their courage and charged at him together.

Faced with their siege, Han Chuanyou did not use any magic. Relying only on Qingling's sharpness and his own speed, he struck with each step, each strike aimed at the throat.

Blood splattered, and corpses fell one after another. In less than two minutes, only one survivor remained in the hall.

The burly man in front of me, wearing only a pair of shorts, was trembling like a leaf.

Looking at the corpses of his companions scattered on the ground, his legs went weak, and he collapsed to his knees. A foul, fishy smell emanated from beneath him, and he was so terrified that he lost control of his bladder.

"Lord Death, spare me!" he cried desperately, desperately seeking a chance to survive, kowtowing frantically, his forehead slamming against the floor with a resounding thud. "I was being manipulated! Spare my life!"

Han Chuanyou frowned at the smell and took a step back in disgust.

"Who ordered it?"

Along the way, he didn't see any leaders; they were all small fry.

"I'll take you! I'll take you!"

The burly man scrambled to his feet, staggered to the wall at the far end of the living room, and pushed open a seemingly ordinary closet.

The inner panel of the closet was removed, revealing a downward staircase, with dim light shining up from below.

Han Chuanyou raised an eyebrow; there was even a basement.

He glanced at the burly man and gestured for him to go first.

The burly man trembled as he descended the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the narrow passageway.

The basement door was ajar. He pushed it open, and the interior was brightly lit, a hidden world.

Hearing the noise, Hiroki Yamashita, who was standing in front of the iron fence, turned his head with a displeased expression.

He hates being disturbed at times like this.

"What are you doing down here? Looking for women? I told you to take care of these goods, we'll talk about it tomorrow."

He noticed that the burly man was pale and trembling, and realized something was wrong.

"What happened?"

The burly man trembled as he turned to the side, revealing the figure shrouded in mist behind him.

"It's...it's this...Lord Death."

He spoke tremblingly, glancing cautiously at Han Chuanyou.

"May I leave now?"

Han Chuanyou didn't look at him; his gaze passed over the burly man and landed on Hongshu at the foot of the mountain.

Extreme fear was spreading across his refined face, and he went limp from head to toe in an instant.

Han Chuanyou glanced at the burly man: "Did I say that?"

Then, with a swift motion, the knife fell.

A flash of light, and a spurt of blood shot from the burly man's throat. His eyes widened, his hands clutched his neck tightly, and he gasped for breath before slowly collapsing to his knees, his life beginning its countdown.

The one who agreed was Death, what does that have to do with me, Han Chuan You?

My only responsibility is to help send you to meet the Grim Reaper and confront him face to face.

Han Chuan You shook the blood off his knife, stepped over the corpses, and walked down the mountain towards Hiroki.

"Now, it's your turn."

Hiroki Yamashita's face turned ashen. He staggered backward, not even having had time to fasten his belt, and nearly fell over.

Those imprisoned huddled behind the iron bars, their eyes filled with bewilderment. They had been locked up here for too long, isolated from the world, and had no idea what the word "death" meant.

Tension and unease permeated the cramped basement.

But Hiroki Yamashita knew it very well.

He stumbled to the coffee table, trembling as he pulled open a drawer, pulled out a pistol, cocked it, raised his arm, and pointed the dark muzzle at Han Chuanyou.

"Don't move!" His voice trembled. "I don't care if you're human or ghost, get out of here! I can pretend nothing happened!"

Han Chuanyou didn't stop at all, continuing to walk forward at a leisurely pace, even urging him on:

"What are you panicking for? Shoot!"

This is outrageous!

The heavy pistol in his hand gave Hiroki Yamashita immense confidence, and the fear in his eyes gradually gave way to ruthlessness.

He didn't believe there was anything in this world that wasn't afraid of bullets; as long as it was a carbon-based life form, no one could withstand the power of a bullet.

He pulled the trigger hard.

The trigger remained motionless even when the knuckles were pressed down.

What's going on?! I can't press it!

He tried again, twice, his forehead veins bulging, but the trigger was as if it were welded shut, not moving an inch.

"Wha...what happened?!"

His expression was filled with fear again, and his forehead was covered in sweat.

Han Chuan slowly approached. To be honest, he felt a moment of nervousness just now.

With his mid-stage Qi Refining strength, he wasn't really confident he could dodge the bullets. Fortunately, the moment he raised his gun, he used his Object Manipulation Technique to lock the firing mechanism of the gun.

Han Chuanyou stopped in front of him, his gaze sweeping over the imprisoned people, and said:

"What's wrong with these people? Tell me the truth, and maybe I'll give you a quick death."

Hiroki Yamashita staggered backward, his back slamming against the sofa armrest. His teeth chattered, and cold sweat soaked through his clothes.

He didn't want to die. He couldn't bear to give up his power as a member of parliament. He hadn't enjoyed enough of the life of luxury and extravagance. How could he possibly fail here?

"What do you want? I'll give you everything! I have plenty of money, please spare my life!"

A flash of light.

Hiroki Yamashita clutched his severed hand, screaming in agony and rolling on the ground.

Han Chuanyou's tone remained completely calm:

"Answer my question, or I have no idea where the next blow will land."

Hiroki Yamashita, enduring the pain, dared not make any more demands and said haltingly:

"I...I mainly provide matching organs to those people..."

Organ trafficking? That's utterly heinous.

Han Chuanyou's gaze grew even more serious, and he looked at Yamashita Hiroki as if he were looking at a pile of utterly disgusting scum.

Who were the masterminds?

"Yes...there are many, but our biggest partner is the Matsukawa Group...they have the channels to help us find targets."

It's the Matsukawa Club again.

Han Chuan You felt that this yakuza organization was too persistent and committed all sorts of evil deeds. It seemed that it had to be completely eradicated.

"I...I've told you everything. I was just in charge of this link in the chain. Please let me go. I promise I'll never do this again."

"You want to quit this kind of thing and retire? But are you really clean?"

Han Chuan You had no intention of letting these people go.

"Now, it's time for you to stand trial."

"You demon, you demon!"

Hiroki Yamashita retreated repeatedly, knowing he could not escape death, and he hysterically cursed:

"What kind of demon kills only bad people? Compared to me, you are the demons, just wearing human skin. In your eyes, what are these people? Livestock to be sold? Or tools to satisfy your desires?"

Hiroki, his eyes bloodshot, became even more frenzied when driven to the brink:

"So what! They're just a bunch of pigs that nobody cares about. It's their honor to be part of the upper class; it's a contribution to the country."

At this moment, Hiroki Yamashita had lost all the elite demeanor he displayed on television. He appeared insane, incoherent, and his inherent baseness and arrogance were nauseating.

Han Chuanyou's eyes flashed even colder as he slowly raised his hand, the long sword pointing directly at Han Chuanyou's brow:

"You really are a born bastard, knowing you're superior to others. Since you think this is all justified, then you should have the honor of dying by my blade."

"You dare kill me? The people behind me won't let you get away with this! They are..."

Hiroki Yamashita suddenly remembered his backer and grasped at a straw, but before he could finish speaking, Yuu Kanakawa smashed his jaw with the hilt of his sword.

The excruciating pain rendered him speechless, blood gushing from his mouth as he stared at Han Chuanyou in horror, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"That's only if they can find me. I'll have plenty of time to play with them later," Han Chuanyou said calmly. "Tonight, I'll send you on your way to pay for the lives of those you killed."

He kicked him so hard he fell to his knees.

The long sword was raised high, and then finally brought down.

Hiroki's head rolled off the mountain, his eyes wide open, still carrying that resentment and fear until his death.

After the trial, Han Chuanyou let out a long sigh of relief.

Although I know that society is not as glamorous as it appears on the surface, facing such a dark scene still makes me very uncomfortable.

Those people are high and mighty, able to arbitrarily take the lives of the lower classes, and even use them as their own spare parts.

This can no longer be described as a violation of human ethics; it is a complete annihilation of humanity.

When they objectify their fellow human beings to the point of being less than livestock, they themselves no longer deserve to be called human beings, but rather beasts in human skin, even more terrifying than beasts.

Because beasts at least live to fill their stomachs, while they live for pleasure, to prolong the life of their decaying bodies.

Han Chuanyou glanced around, about to let the person go, when his attention was drawn to a decorative item hanging on the wall behind the sofa.

It was a hideous Asura mask, with sharp angles and wide-open, angry eyes, as if it were coldly observing the bloodshed and sin in this room with a disdainful attitude. There were faint fluctuations of spiritual energy on the surface of the mask, which shone with a dark luster under the light.

He stepped forward, removed the mask, and a line of subtitles immediately appeared before his eyes.

[You have destroyed a demon stronghold and obtained 3 Qi Gathering Pills, 100 low-grade spirit stones, and the Masked Asura - a mid-grade Xuan-level magic weapon.]

Mysterious-grade magic artifact?

He suppressed his curiosity and released these people from the cages first.

The lock on the iron fence was useless against Qingling; with a flash of the blade, the iron bolt snapped.

People who had regained their freedom staggered out of their cubicles. Some covered their faces and wept, while others stood there blankly, as if they could not believe what they were seeing.

"You can go home now." Han Chuanyou sheathed his sword. "You'd better contact the news media first and make this a big deal. Only then will you be truly safe."

The best way to avoid being swallowed by darkness is to expose yourself to the sunlight.

After leaving this piece of advice, Han Chuanyou turned and left, his footsteps gradually fading at the end of the stairs.