I studied beheading in a mental institution

Kyoto.

Under the dark night, the deep mountains in the suburbs are outlined in the moonlight. On the winding road around the mountain, a black Hummer is shuttling between the dim street lights, driving towards the peak of the deep mountains.

After driving for an unknown amount of time, a pitch-black iron door appeared in front of the bright headlights. Several figures in black stood in front of the door, letting the headlights shine on them, standing there like a rock, motionless.

The Hummer stopped obediently in front of the iron gate, and the leader figure in black walked to the side of the car and said lightly:

"identity."

The rear window of the Hummer rolled down, and Ken Asakura looked into the man's eyes and showed his name tag.

"Assassin Wakatou of the Black Assassination Team, Leader of the Osaka Yamamoto Team, Ken Asakura."

"What are you doing?"

"Meet the group leader, there is something that needs to be decided by him."

The man carefully checked Asakura Ken's appearance, nodded, returned the name tag to the other party, took two steps back, and bowed deeply.

"Please."

Under the night, the dark iron gate slowly opened, those figures in front of the gate avoided to make way one after another, the Hummer stepped on the accelerator, and the car quickly drove towards the luxurious manor on the top of the mountain.

A few minutes later, the vehicle stopped at the main entrance of the manor. The driver got out of the car and opened the door for Ken Asakura. The latter straightened his clothes with a solemn expression, and walked towards the manor with the driver and an assistant.

The leader of the black killing team he was about to meet was the third leader of the black killing team since its establishment, and he was also a legend of the Japanese underworld.

A year ago, the underworld in the Kansai area was still like a mess. Although there were many powerful underworld gangs, they were all busy with their own territory competition and industrial development. It's just a group of low-end shrimps.

At that time, the Black Killing Group was only one of the three major gangs in Kyoto. Although it had some status in the underworld, it was limited to this.

It was at that time that the leader of the big group was born out of nowhere. From an ordinary gangster who appeared inexplicably, with a few subordinates, he forced himself to wipe out the other two major gangs in Kyoto, making the black killing group become the leader of the gang. Kyoto number one.

This young man who appeared suddenly was appreciated by the second-generation team leader, and he was quickly promoted to the top of the black killing team. The unstoppable trend pierced through the large underworld gangs in other parts of Kansai, and the status of the underworld gang in Kansai soared like a rocket, and finally became the leader of the underworld in Kansai.

Two months ago, the second-generation team leader passed away due to illness. It can be said that this young man was appointed as the third-generation team leader of the black killing team.

Asakura Ken has only met this team leader twice, once when the other party took people to Osaka to break through the Yamamoto group a year ago, and once at the ceremony for the other party's succession to become the team leader, the other party revealed The temperament of the leader of the underworld has made him unforgettable to this day.

While deliberating about what the group leader said for a while, Asakura Ken walked to a closed Japanese-style door.

"Please come in." The man leading the way made a "please" gesture to Ken Asakura.

Ken Asakura adjusted his clothes for the last time, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

Behind the door is a spacious hall with a layer of tatami mats on the floor. There are more than 200 men and women kneeling neatly on both sides of the room. The men uniformly wear black kimonos, and the women uniformly wear black sleeves, white socks and clogs. Calmly looked at Ken Asakura who walked in.

In the center of the hall, a young man wearing a cloud feather weaving which symbolizes the status of the group leader is sitting there casually, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and an old-fashioned silver lighter in his palm, lightly lighting a cigarette. Clusters of fire.

The beating flame lit the cigarette, and he took a puff, exhaling hazy smoke filled the air, his sharp and deep eyes narrowed slightly.

On his right middle finger and ring finger, he wears two rings, one black and one white.

The moment Ken Asakura's eyes met the young man's, his heart trembled slightly. It was the same look that this young man had when he led people to wipe out the Yamamoto group in Osaka...

He calmed down, walked to the center of the hall, and half-kneeled on the ground.

"Wakatou of the Black Assassination Team, Yamamoto's team leader, Asakura Ken, met the big team leader."

The young man looked at him quietly with a cigarette in his mouth, without any intention of speaking. The atmosphere in the whole hall was dead silent and oppressive.

In this deathly silence, Asakura Ken's psychological pressure increased again. He felt the young man's fierce gaze, and beads of sweat began to ooze from his forehead.

"Team leader, I'm here this time to report something to you. A few days ago, the Hanchuan family in Kanto sent someone..."

Asakura Ken half-kneeled on the ground, and told the story in detail, the only voice left in the whole hall was his alone narration.

In the hazy smog, the young man was smoking a cigarette, and his eyes revealed a faint kingly coercion. He just looked at Ken Asakura quietly, listening to everything calmly...

……

Shen Qingzhu is very depressed now.

He couldn't understand a word of what the man kneeling on the ground said.

Speaking of it, he has been in this ghostly place for more than a year. Recalling the scene at that time, Shen Qingzhu is still confused now. He doesn't understand at all how all this developed to this point inexplicably.

……

a year ago.

Shen Qingzhu woke up from the coast of Yokohama, looking around blankly.

He was in the same mood as Lin Qiye at the time. He didn't know what happened, why he came here, and what kind of place it was...

But it was night, after Shen Qingzhu floated to the shore, no one found him, so he walked into the city with such a dazed face, seeing neon signs and all kinds of incomprehensible words everywhere, he fell into a trap. meditating...

When he was in the training camp that year, he remembered that the instructor seemed to have mentioned this kind of culture, but he never listened to this kind of class, so he couldn't remember anything at all.

Fortunately, the people here look similar to him, and he blends in, and no one notices his strangeness. He just walked around half of the city, and when he was tired, he returned to the coast to smoke. As soon as a ray of flame was fired, I felt a vision protruding from the void, searching for him frantically.

For Brother Yan, who was born as an undercover agent, being cautious is the first priority in surviving in an unfamiliar environment. The moment he felt this gaze, he immediately stopped the operation of the Forbidden Ruins, and sat there motionless for more than ten minutes.

After that gaze left and confirmed that he would never appear again, he quickly left the coast, even sneaked into a moving truck, and left the city directly.

What he didn't know was that just a few minutes after he left, an oracle came around the coast, searching for him.