Substitute Toyokawa Shoko, you can become stronger by breathing

A place that is both strange and familiar to Kujo Renji.

As the only place where the Canglong Society has "absolute influence" in the Kansai region, it is not an exaggeration to say that this is the "central base" of the Canglong Society in Kansai.

But unfortunately, the profits that can be made here are very limited. Over time, this place has become just a blood supply place.

And it all has to start from the beginning.

In this world, the gears of Japan's destiny have undergone subtle but profound shifts at several key points.

The most notable point is that the financial crisis that swept the world was strangely delayed in landing in Japan by nearly twenty years.

When the Japan where Kujo Renji lived in his previous life tasted the bitter fruit of the bubble burst in the early 90s and fell into the "lost decade" or even longer, the Japan in this world extended that false prosperity into the first decade of the 21st century.

The illusion of prosperity and peace shrouded the archipelago for even longer, asset prices were blown to dizzying heights, and society was filled with optimism and blind confidence.

It was not until around 2010 that the belated judgment finally arrived. Its destructive power was particularly severe because it had accumulated over a long period of time, and the economic trauma it left behind is still painful today.

Perhaps it is the butterfly effect. The change of time has also brought about another key change in trajectory, which is the control of weapons.

The strict revision of the Gun and Knife Law, the ironclad law that almost completely banned the public from owning firearms except for hunting rifles and air rifles, was not promulgated on March 10, 1958, and implemented on April 1 of the same year as in reality. Instead, it was postponed until after 1978 and was gradually and less thoroughly implemented.

This means that throughout the 1970s, 1980s and even a long period of time in the 1990s, guns were relatively easy to obtain, which undoubtedly provided more direct and brutal tools for violent conflicts and power changes in the underground world.

This also created an opportunity for Kujo Renji.

In this era where chaos and order are intertwined, he, who is familiar with the gray methods of later generations, can obviously gain more benefits in this struggle.

The Canglong Society is not a traditional Yakuza group that relies on collecting protection fees and street violence to survive.

In Kujo Renji's conception, it is more like a modern crime syndicate that is efficient, secretive, and whose main goal is economic infiltration.

In its early days, the Canglong Society inevitably resorted to violence, which was almost a necessary condition for its rise in that era when gun control was relatively relaxed.

With a vision that transcended its time, the Canglong Society established a firm foothold in the underground world and accumulated the first bucket of bloody original capital.

Of course, the Canglong Society was not the first group of underworld organizations to reap the benefits of the times, but it was definitely the first one to transform.

On the one hand, they continued to make a fortune through various gray industries. On the other hand, they began to systematically "launder" these illegal gains through carefully designed, nested shell companies and complex financial operations, and quietly infiltrated into seemingly legal business areas.

When the financial crisis that was delayed for nearly 20 years finally broke out around 2010, the entire Japanese economy was in mourning and asset prices plummeted. Kujo Renji, who had already held huge amounts of "clean" or "semi-clean" funds and had foreseen the crisis, had the most important hunt in his life.

He zeroed in on the battered Osaka real estate market, particularly high-end commercial properties that were usually out of reach. Banks panicked and companies went bankrupt, leaving once-hot locations and buildings deserted.

Jiujo Liansi controls the vast network of the Canglong Society. Like an experienced vulture, he frantically and systematically sweeps up these high-quality assets at astonishingly low prices through countless seemingly unrelated investment companies and agents.

The existence of the Canglong Society ensures that potential competitors or unwise original owners will "voluntarily" withdraw, and also ensures that various obstacles in the transaction process are "smoothly" cleared.

When the economic winter gradually passed and the market began to slowly recover, people did not even realize that the actual control behind more than 30% of high-end commercial real estate in downtown Osaka had quietly fallen into the hands of an untraceable, huge and mysterious capital network.

"So, you suspect that what happened in Winwing was manipulated by Mr. Kujo Renji?"

The secretary's voice, slightly hesitant and uncertain, came from behind him. This question was like a stone dropped into a quiet lake, causing a slight ripple in his heart, but then it returned to calm.

Seiichiro Kimura turned his back to the bustling scene, the amber whiskey swaying in the crystal glass, the ice cubes making subtle and crisp collision sounds, like some kind of metronome, beating against his quiet thoughts.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the top-floor suite at the Shikamaru Hotel, the night view of Osaka is like a piece of spread-out black velvet, dotted with countless diamond-like lights.

He took a sip of the whiskey, the spicy liquid sliding down his throat, bringing a brief burning sensation.

"Listen..."

He slowly walked to the desk, tapping his fingers lightly on the smooth surface.

"If that man still had a shred of consciousness, if he could still think, he would never waste even a second getting involved in a group of little girls playing a band game."

His voice paused, and he said in an almost mocking tone:

"The first thing he will do is to do everything he can to kill all of us 'traitors' who are trying to take advantage of his downfall - without sparing a single one."

The secretary lowered his head even lower, almost burying it in his chest, not daring to look directly at the icy light that flashed in Kimura's eyes.

Kimura ignored him and opened his laptop. The light from the screen illuminated his chiseled face, displaying Winwing's recent public reports and some internal documents obtained through special channels.

"But... I have to admit..."

He spoke softly, more like talking to himself, his voice so low that only he could hear it:

"The manner in which this entire incident took place...really resembles the Boss's handiwork."

The collection of information is shockingly accurate, and the exploitation of human weaknesses is as precise as a scalpel.

Within a completely legal framework, the alternation of power and the transfer of interests were completed silently... Every step was flawless, and every step was accompanied by that familiar, chilling sense of control.

His fingers tapped quickly on the keyboard, pulling up the registration information of the company called "Canghai Investment".

The layers of shell companies snaked like a maze. Funds flowed across multiple countries, each transaction meticulously disguised. Legal barriers were stretched to the limit, making tracing the ultimate controller nearly impossible.

The secretary stood aside, silent for a long time, and then spoke again cautiously:

"Perhaps... this was a chess piece that Kujo Renji-san had laid out beforehand? Some kind of... contingency plan? One that would automatically activate if something happened to him?"

Kimura shook his head, a complex and inexplicable emotion flashed in his eyes, and he turned off the computer.

"He would never completely entrust such an important plan to outsiders. He only trusts himself."

"Toyokawa Shoko..."

He whispered the name, as if savoring an unfamiliar word.

A sixteen-year-old high school girl... could she plan and execute such a complex series of business operations? In such a short period of time, she could dismantle the surveillance network set up by the Toyokawa family and quietly seize control of an entire firm?

——This is unrealistic...

His thoughts gradually sank, rushing back to the rainy Tokyo afternoon that changed his life.

The day he thought was the end, but unexpectedly became the beginning.

...

Tokyo. At the tail end of the rainy season, the sky was as gloomy as lead soaked in water. Fine, continuous raindrops shrouded the entire city in a gray, damp haze.

Seiichiro Kimura was born into a wealthy family. His parents were well-known scholars and businessmen who provided him with the best educational resources and living environment.

From childhood, he viewed the world as a series of formulas and logical chains that could be easily broken down and understood. Knowledge that others would have to memorize repeatedly, he could memorize at a glance. While his peers were still racking their brains to solve a math problem, he was already trying to uncover deeper mathematical models. Even the complex interpersonal relationships and business rules of the adult world seemed to him nothing more than game models with slightly more variables, but still simple in essence.

His life was so smooth that it was enviable.

He always ranked first in top elementary, middle and high schools and won numerous trophies in various competitions.

People around him, whether classmates, teachers or elders, all praised him highly, believing that he had a bright future and was a future social elite.

However, only Kimura himself knows that this "excellence" does not bring him a sense of accomplishment, but rather deepening emptiness and boredom.

This world... is too simple, too boring.

It's like a game with ridiculously low difficulty. All the levels and challenges are fragile and vulnerable in front of it.

He doesn't even need to "play" seriously, he just needs to choose according to the system's default "optimal solution" to pass the level easily.

Get into the best university in the country?

It was just a set of procedures that were completed step by step.

Get an internship at a top company and show amazing business talent?

It is just applying those models that have already been mastered to real-life scenarios.

He found it ridiculous and pathetic to see the people around him trying their best, even engaging in intrigue, for credits, GPA, internships, promotions and salary increases.

"fool."

He made this evaluation of the people around him, including himself, in his mind more than once.

"They're all playing a designed, rubbish game with clear rules and unattractive rewards, and they're still enjoying it."

Study, take exams, graduate, work, get promoted, get married, have children... This life trajectory, which is regarded as the criterion by the mainstream values ​​of society, is like a gray conveyor belt with no end in sight in his eyes, slowly and steadily transporting everyone to the same destination - death.

The process was dull and boring, lacking any variables or surprises worth looking forward to.

He tried to find excitement.

Extreme sports? After the brief adrenaline rush, only a deeper emptiness remains. Addiction to games? The battles and achievements in the virtual world ultimately cannot fill the void of reality. Art? Philosophy? To him, those things are merely more complex mental anesthetics created by humans to relieve their own sense of insignificance.

The world is boring.

Life is boring. Living itself is meaningless.

When this thought wrapped around his entire mind like a vine, a clear and cold "optimal solution" emerged in his mind.

——Since this game is so rubbish and not fun at all, then "reopening" it early may be the wisest choice.

He began planning his own death.

Just like any other "task" he had completed in the past, he was calm, rational, and even had a strange sense of ease.

He did not choose those dramatic ways, but decided to end his ordinary life in the most ordinary way - lying on the railway tracks at an ordinary station on an ordinary morning.

He even felt a little satisfied with his decision.

At least this was the ending he chose himself, rather than being transported there by that gray conveyor belt.

That morning, the sky was leaden gray, just like the world he had always felt.

He put on his most ordinary clothes, went out as usual, and squeezed onto the commuter train. The people around him were numb, anxious, or exhausted, their faces full of compromise and struggle with life.

Kimura looked at them, his heart was calm, only with the indifference of an outsider.

He got off the train one stop early and arrived at the relatively quiet station he had chosen in advance.

The platform was sparsely populated, and the cool morning breeze carried the distinct chill of the rails. He walked to the edge of the platform, watching the signal lights gradually light up in the distance, calculating the time it would take for the next train to arrive.

Everything was just as he had planned. Ordinary, ordinary, just like every day in his life.

Then, just as he was about to take that final step, to face that moment of darkness and end, a voice sounded behind him.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

The voice had a peculiar magnetism, and within its laziness there was an unquestionable penetrating power.

Kimura turned back subconsciously.

He was a man who didn't fit in with his surroundings.

He was wearing a well-tailored black windbreaker, with a slender figure. He leaned casually against the platform pillar, holding a slender cigarette between his fingers, the scarlet flame particularly eye-catching against the lead-gray background.

"It's not a good habit to be in a daze in a place like this."

The man took a puff of his cigarette and slowly exhaled white smoke rings. In the smoke, his voice was filled with a playful mockery:

"Especially when the train is about to pull into the station."

Kimura frowned. He didn't like the feeling of being seen through, especially at this moment. He replied coldly, "It's none of your business."

"Oh?"

The man raised his eyebrows, seeming to be very interested in his indifference:

"Is it really irrelevant? A guy who intends to use his body to cause trouble to the tram company and the station says it has nothing to do with me, a 'passerby'?"

Kimura's heart sank.

"What do you want?"

Kimura's voice was still cold, but it was already a little wary.

The man laughed and sighed:

"Not really. I just feel a little sorry about it."

He put out his cigarette and walked slowly to Kimura. The distance between them was so close that he could smell the faint smell of tobacco on each other.

"pity?"

"Yeah, what a pity."

"They haven't even figured out the core gameplay of this world, the most interesting hidden levels, yet they're rushing to delete the game and start over."

The man's eyes swept over Kimura and asked with a smile:

"Tell me, is it that the game itself is so rubbish that it's not worth playing? Or... is it that your level as a 'player' is so rubbish that you can't even find the true fun in the game?"

Trash game?

Or a trash player?

He has always attributed the boredom of his life to the "design flaws" of the world.

He never doubted his "ability" because he indeed crushed the vast majority of people in the secular definition of "success".