"Noah Barton—"
Seeing the bloody scene about to unfold at the street corner, Anida helplessly cried out the name of the boy beside her.
But before she could finish speaking, the boy had already vanished from where he stood.
"Bang!"
After its tire was blown apart by a rock spike that suddenly burst out from underground, the sedan drifted violently and slammed into the wall of a building on one side, letting out an earth-shaking crash.
Countless clouds of dust and shattered stones fell from the wall, crackling as they smashed down onto the sedan's windshield.
Pitch-black skid marks appeared on the ground.
If the sedan, after coming to a stop, had gone even half a meter farther forward, it would have brutally rolled over the two people—one big and one small—who had been scared limp onto the ground.
Kisho's figure appeared atop the car roof.
He turned his head to look at the two people on the ground and said, "Hurry up and go."
The adult stared blankly at Kisho— or rather, his mind was still completely stunned.
Kisho shot him another fierce glare, and only then did the man seem to snap back to his senses. He hurriedly stood up, scooped the little boy into his arms, and fled without looking back.
"Than ...thank you."
The little boy lay on the adult's shoulder, his voice carried by the wind into Kisho's ears.
Kisho's lips curved slightly upward. But when his gaze fell upon the person inside the car, his eyes suddenly sharpened.
"Bang!"
His fist smashed viciously into the windshield. With just one punch, the entire pane of glass shattered into fragments.
He leaned forward and dragged the scumbag out of the driver's seat—the man's head had been smashed bloody from the collision, yet an eerie smile still hung on his face, clearly someone high on drugs.
It wasn't until he was yanked out of the car and met the boy's eyes, brimming with fury, that the man realized what had happened.
"...You fucking—"
Before he could finish spewing his curse, Kisho grabbed his garishly fire-red, permed hair and smashed his head viciously into a large, jagged shard of glass standing upright
"Aaaahhhhh—!!!"
With his eyes only one millimeter away from the broken glass, the permed hair guy let out a miserably shrill scream.
"Feeling sober now?"
He heard a boy's voice. Clearly just a youthful tone, yet to him it sounded like the voice of a demon from hell.
The drug-numbed brain of the permed hair guy, under the overwhelming stimulus, finally sobered up.
He murmured, "...You..."
Kisho yanked him up, threw him to the ground, and crouched down close to him.
"Good. As long as you're sober."
In a soft voice, enunciating every word, he asked,
"You think ramming into people feels exciting, right?"
Permed hair guy: "..."
He struggled to get away, only to be pinned to the ground by Kisho's foot.
"Don't rush off. This isn't over yet."
Originally, Kisho felt that a beast like this should just be killed outright—the whole world would thank him for the contribution.
But because of the massive crash just now, many people had already started paying attention to this area.
He stepped slightly to the side, looking down from above. Staring into the permed hair guy's eyes, he raised a hand and patted the man's terror-stricken face.
"Tell me, which foot did you use to step on the accelerator just now?"
Permed hair guy: "..."
Kisho stared at him and continued before he could answer:
"Though, judging by your head, you don't look very clear-minded. You probably forgot."
He smiled faintly, pulled out a triangular spike, poured all of his Nen into it, and swung it downward viciously.
"—Then I might as well cripple both legs."
"Aaaahhhhh—!"
A dull, heavy thud accompanied by the sound of cracking bones rang out, as the permed hair guy let out a scream of unbearable pain.
He looked at Kisho in utter terror, unable to understand where this guy had come from, or why he was filled with such overwhelming rage.
Running people over in the street wasn't the first time he'd done this. Or rather, when he and his friends had done this before, no one had ever stepped forward to stop them.
After all, the two people he had planned to hit looked like nothing more than plainly dressed civilians. Even if someone saved them, there wouldn't be any generous brain rewards to gain.
In a place dominated by gangs, so-called police were nothing more than decorations. People like that dying in Lashan Mountain was just dying— even if someone called the police, it would only be recorded symbolically. As long as a bit of money was slipped around, there would never be any follow-up.
But this time... why—
"If you want revenge, come find me anytime."
Kisho grabbed the permed hair guy by the collar. His silver-blue eyes met the man's gaze, and the permed hair guy felt as if he were being pressed into an abyss. Cold sweat dripped from his temples, drop by drop.
Too terrifying. He would rather leave Lashan Mountain immediately than ever see this kid again.
If one releases Nen pressure on an ordinary person while placing a certain restriction upon them, there is a high probability that the person will be influenced by the restriction and will carry it out subconsciously.
This was another function of Nen that Kisho had discovered. After all, Nen abilities themselves contain spiritual power.
He released the permed hair guy's collar, ignored the man who had already been scared witless, and turned to leave.
On the other side, Anida stared in surprise at Kisho as he walked toward her, her expression growing complicated.
"Didn't you say you weren't a bodyguard sent by my dad?"
Anger gradually welled up in Anida's big eyes.
"You lied to me!"
"I really didn't!"
With an awkward smile, inspiration struck him. He pointed at the panting group of bodyguards who hadn't managed to catch up.
"Have you ever seen a bodyguard who can play both the piano and the guqin? If you don't believe me, ask them. Someone that outstanding—there's no way they could exist in this world, right?"
Anida: "..."
She thought about it for a moment and reluctantly accepted this explanation.
Then, suddenly, she revealed a sly smile, as if she had come up with a bad idea.
Kisho silently looked at her, suddenly struck by a bad premonition.
"It's thanks to you just now. I didn't expect you to be so amazing."
Anida stood on tiptoe, patted Kisho's shoulder, and, using the tone of a superior encouraging a subordinate, began to "paint a big pie":
"Later, I'll have my dad give you a raise."
Kisho: "..."
Anida smiled, then turned and slipped into another shopping mall.
...
Kisho crossed his arms and watched Anida wander back and forth among a pile of extremely luxurious and extremely expensive dresses, picking and choosing with boundless enthusiasm. He sighed helplessly.
When it comes to shopping sprees, whether it's young girls or grown women, their combat power is equally terrifying.
Footsteps sounded behind him. He turned around—Jitt stood there, looking at him coldly.
"You were too impulsive," Jitt said coldly.
Hearing this, Kisho knew exactly what Jitt meant by "impulsive." His expression instantly cooled.
"What do you mean?" he shot back just as coldly. "If you're worried about retaliation, whatever the consequences are, I'll bear them myself."
Jitt gave a disdainful laugh. "It's not about retaliation. The Bankro family doesn't even care about small fry like that."
He said coldly, "He had the potential to become a future client of the Bankro family. By injuring him, you caused some minor negative impact on the family's business—impact that was entirely unnecessary."
"As a member of the Bankro family, you must consider these things before acting."
Kisho: "...?"
Barely able to suppress his anger, he demanded,
"...So what you're saying is that I should have just watched that beast run those two people over?"
Jitt was momentarily stunned by the question, then sneered.
"Just two ordinary people. One look and you can tell they'd never contribute even half a jenny to the Bankro family."
In an extremely indifferent and contemptuous tone, he spoke calmly:
"Trash like that dies, so what? What does it matter?"
Kisho: "..."
Just as Jitt, seeing Kisho's defiance, was about to say more, Anida's voice called out from the other side:
"—Hey, Noah Barton, come here for a moment!"
Kisho shot him a cold glance, then turned and walked toward Anida.
There was no need to continue this conversation.
His values had already been shattered countless times by the people here.
With values so different, there was no point in saying anything more—he had no intention of sinking into the same filth as these scumbags, nor did he have the confidence to persuade them to turn back.
He only knew that, aside from Anida—who truly knew nothing—if any other member of the Bankro family were to die by his hand, not a single one of them would be innocent.