Only I Follow the Law: An Unorthodox Tokyo Cultivation Routine

The Rose Nightclub, located at the north exit of Nakano Station, is also part of the Matsukawa-kai's territory.

Inside the private room, amidst the singing and dancing, a man with a tattoo on his arm took a sip of his drink: "The phone number you got that guy from recently?"

The man wearing gold-rimmed glasses smiled and nodded:

"Yeah, looks like they couldn't hold on any longer and are sending money over."

"I really envy you guys," Ono Jiro grinned. "You can make money hand over fist with just a few tricks, and there's hardly any risk involved."

"No problem." The man with the gold-rimmed glasses pushed up his glasses, his tone nonchalant. "Now I don't need to ask you for help anymore. Once the bill is settled, the commission will be transferred to your account immediately."

"Haha! No problem!"

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses was named Takashi Yamamoto, a notorious litigator in Tokyo's legal circles.

Whether it's divorce property division, workplace disputes, or debt collection, he can turn black into white and turn a dead end into a way out.

But he never relied on finding loopholes in the law, but rather on underhanded methods.

First, he fabricated evidence. He had several skilled people working for him who specialized in forging medical records, injury assessments, and chat logs, and could create evidence as needed.

Inoue Takehiko's so-called domestic violence medical report was written by him.

Secondly, they bribe witnesses: neighbors' testimonies, the woman's best friend's corroborating testimony, and even hospital nurses. As long as the money is right, there is no testimony that cannot be bought.

Thirdly, he exerts pressure through public opinion. He knows several tabloid reporters and, when necessary, leaks information to portray the other party as a "domestic abuser" or a "scumbag," letting public opinion condemn him to death first.

As for the fourth option, it is to cooperate with yakuza organizations. If the other party is not sensible and refuses to reconcile, he will send people like the tattooed man to talk to them.

Knocking on doors late at night, blocking company entrances, stuffing threatening letters into homes... After a few times, even the most principled person would have to give in.

This divorce case involving Takehiko Inoue also happened to fall into his area of ​​expertise.

Not only did he take his wife, but he also watched helplessly as he was ruined and suffered a fate worse than death. This double pleasure was extremely delightful.

That woman was really stupid. She hooked up with him with just a few sweet words and even cooperated by splashing dirty water on Inoue Takehiko. Although the experience in bed was quite good, it was a pity that she wasn't smart enough.

Let's play with her a little longer. Once we're tired of her, we'll kick her to the curb. Anyway, her usefulness is almost over.

Takashi Yamamoto raised his glass, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Everything is under control.

……

The north exit of Nakano Station, a transportation hub in Nakano Ward, may not have the sleepless atmosphere of Shinjuku, but it is still a lively place with bright lights and bustling activity.

Amidst the comings and goings of people, office workers who have just finished get off work gather in small groups, either heading into izakayas or karaoke bars, using alcohol and noise to unwind from the day's fatigue.

A black car was parked on the side of the road.

The car door opened, and Takehiko Inoue stepped out.

His expression was indifferent, but his eyes suppressed a barely contained rage that was about to burst forth. One hand was tightly clenched inside his coat, where the knife that was meant to end his life was hidden.

His resolute demeanor attracted the attention of passersby, who curiously observed him and subconsciously avoided his path.

With a clear goal in mind, Inoue Takehiko strode quickly toward the nightclub entrance.

The two guards sensed something was wrong and stepped forward to block the entrance.

"Stop! Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes." Takehiko Inoue stopped and said in a low voice, "I'm here to see Takashi Yamamoto."

The two guards exchanged a glance.

Takashi Yamamoto was a regular here, and he was indeed in a private room tonight. One of the men looked Inoue Takehiko up and down, his gaze lingering on Inoue's hands hidden inside his coat, and he frowned.

"Wait, take your hand out. What are you hiding?"

Takehiko Inoue did not move.

"I said, take your hands out!" The security guard's voice became stern as he reached out to pull off his coat.

Takehiko Inoue raised his eyes suddenly.

In that instant, the gatekeeper was startled by his gaze, and then they saw the knife.

They're here to cause trouble!

They weren't exactly innocent either; in fact, none of the people in this nightclub were exactly law-abiding citizens. As members of the underworld, they all had blood on their hands.

"You dare cause trouble in Songchuan? Who are you trying to scare with a knife? If you know what's good for you, get lost!"

The two guards simultaneously drew their daggers from their waists, the blades flashing coldly under the neon lights.

Takehiko Inoue stared intently at the two of them.

Now, anyone who stands in his way of revenge will die, and anyone who dares to lay a hand on him is an evil person.

Han Chuan You, who had followed, leaned against a telephone pole across the street, unscrewed the cap, slowly took a sip of juice, and calmly looked towards the entrance of the nightclub.

He had no intention of taking action.

There were two choices, and Takehiko Inoue himself chose the first one.

Let him see what kind of effect an ordinary person can have after taking the Qi Gathering Pill.

Inoue Takehiko let out a low growl and shot out like a cannonball.

His speed far exceeded what ordinary people could imagine; he arrived in front of the first gatekeeper in the blink of an eye.

The guard's pupils constricted, and he hastily thrust out his dagger.

But... it's too slow.

Takehiko Inoue turned to the side, the blade grazing his ribs, tearing through his coat and a layer of flesh, causing blood to seep out.

But he seemed to feel no pain. His left hand gripped the guard's wrist, which was holding the knife, like an iron clamp, and twisted it sharply.

"Click"

The sound of bones cracking was clearly audible. The guard's wrist bent at a 180-degree angle, the dagger slipped from his hand and fell to the ground. Before he could even scream, Inoue Takehiko's right hand had already plunged the knife into his abdomen.

The entire knife was submerged, with the tip protruding from his back, bringing with it a puff of warm blood mist.

The gatekeeper's eyes widened, his mouth opened and closed, but he could only make hoarse sounds. Inoue Takehiko drew his sword expressionlessly, and blood gushed out like a spring, spraying down the blade onto his face and body.

Warm, sweet and fishy...

"what!"

The screams of passersby were incessant.

However, not many people left. Instead, the sight of blood stirred a morbid excitement and impulse within them, and they all took out their phones to record the scene.

The stench of blood made Inoue Takehiko's heart pound like a drum, and his momentum grew even stronger.

The other guard was terrified, but the gangster's ferocity prevented him from turning and running away. Instead, with bloodshot eyes, he stabbed Inoue Takehiko in the lower back.

Takehiko Inoue caught the dagger that was thrust at him with a backhand. The blade cut his palm, and blood dripped through his fingers, but he was oblivious. He tightened his grip and snatched the blade from the guard's hand, then casually tossed it to the ground.

The gatekeeper looked at his empty hands and finally felt fear.

He tried to run, but Takehiko Inoue didn't give him a chance. He grabbed his shoulder and plunged the dagger into his neck.

With the sound of flesh and bone being torn apart, blood splattered everywhere, leaving mottled blood flowers on the porch.

He let go, and the security guard collapsed to the ground, clutching his neck.

Takehiko Inoue was breathing heavily, looking down at his own body.

Covered in blood, some of his own, but mostly of others', he looked down at the two trembling bodies that were constantly losing blood. There was no fear in his eyes, only a kind of almost insane pleasure.

"Yamamoto Takashi..."

He murmured the name, stepped over the pool of blood on the ground, and walked deeper into the nightclub.