Chapter 140: Grandpa’s in Trouble Again

Kiryu Setsuna knew exactly how powerful his strike had been.

He had trained in a style where the "Rakshasa Palm" twisted muscle upon impact through rotational force.

He had enhanced this move, increasing the rotational force for greater damage.

Logically, the one who blocked that attack—Takamine Rinji—should have been injured. But Rinji didn't even flinch. Instead, Kiryu's own arm was ruined.

It was clear that Rinji had redirected the twisted force back into Kiryu's body, causing his arm to destroy itself.

This boy, calmly treating Ozu Toshio as if nothing had happened, might be more terrifying than any enemy Kiryu had ever faced.

His face looked harmless, but Kiryu could feel the terrifying killing aura Rinji was suppressing—just the leak of it was suffocating.

This man was no good person.

Meanwhile, Rinji was finishing up treating Ozu Toshio.

He raised Toshio's mangled arm, placed a hand—wearing a ring—on his shoulder, and with a flick, the deformed limb instantly straightened. The dead muscle and bone reverted back to normal.

Toshio tested his hand and looked at Rinji with gratitude.

"Thank you. If not for you, I'd have lost that arm."

"No problem. I actually wanted to ask you something," Rinji smiled. "About muscle training."

"Muscle training? Now that's my specialty. I'll grab some materials for you right away."

Their conversation wrapped up quickly. Once Toshio was healed, Rinji turned to Kiryu.

"Looks like you're injured too. Want me to treat it?"

"No need. I can handle it myself."

Kiryu slammed his left hand against his mangled right arm—and instantly restored it.

By twisting it in the opposite direction, he corrected the damage. Kiryu had fully mastered his technique.

"Come to think of it, your company has no one but you," said Shion, turning to Rinji. "You don't have a dedicated fighter, right? Are you planning to enter the tournament yourself?"

"You mean Old man Katahara's 'Deadly Elimination Tournament'? Honestly, I'm not interested," Rinji smiled. "Although that old man did invite me—not as a fighter, though. You'll find out what for when the tournament starts."

"Always so secretive. I wonder what kind of scheme you people are up to."

Shion pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and offered a light to Rinji, who had also pulled one out.

Blowing smoke, she asked, "Since you're close to Chairman Katahara, I assume you've heard of the 'Fifth Fang of Metsudo'?"

"You mean Kanoh Agito? Yeah, I know him."

"How strong is he?" Shion gestured at Kiryu. "Compared to this guy?"

"Agito's alright. But if the one behind you wants to beat him, he'll need to train more," Rinji exhaled a smoke ring. "Not that it's impossible."

"That's good to hear... Still, I'm curious. With your strength, if you joined Kengan matches, wouldn't you make a fortune?"

"True. But that bit of profit isn't enough to justify being made a monkey for those corporate scumbags. Who knows, if I'm in a bad mood one day, I might just wipe out the crowd after defeating my opponent."

"..."

This boy with the gentle face—Shion knew full well he was no ordinary good guy.

---

Leaving Koyo Girls' University, Rinji held in his hands a complete set of bodyweight muscle training materials that Toshio had given him. Included with it was a signed photo that looked obnoxiously flashy—honestly, a little disgusting.

But Rinji didn't really care. He just wanted it for home workouts. His goal was to become an intimidating muscle-bound man before summer vacation ended.

Ever since Old man Katahara announced the launch of the "Kengan Sudden-Death Elimination Tournament," many major Japanese corporations—even some foreign companies—had started to stir. They began searching all over the world for powerful fighters, not caring whether the person was a murderer or something else. As long as they were strong enough, companies would go to great lengths to recruit them, no matter the cost.

The existence of the Kengan Association had caused these businesses—which could otherwise rely on market competition or strategic planning—to abandon intellectual approaches altogether and instead focus entirely on finding the strongest individuals.

To be honest, Rinji couldn't understand how the Kengan Association had managed to survive from ancient times to the present. Using fists to settle business disputes by simplifying market competition seemed utterly meaningless in the long run—and even risked accelerating economic crises.

But since Japan liked playing around like this, Rinji had no intention of interfering.

Bzzzt—

"Hmm?"

His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. Rinji pulled it out and saw that it was his grandfather calling.

That was odd. Normally his grandfather wouldn't call unless something had gone seriously wrong.

With a slightly uneasy expression, Rinji answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Rinji?"

"Yes, Grandpa. Did something happen over there?"

"Ah... you could say it's kind of a big deal."

The moment he heard "big deal," Rinji's expression turned serious.

"What is it? Are you being hunted down? Did you run into an enemy organization? Or did the CIA finally track you down in Japan? Damn it, I knew those fucking stalkers liked getting themselves killed—"

"No, it's not that kind of thing."

"Then what is it?"

"Rinji… do you have any money on you?"

"…I do. Did you eat and forget your wallet? Just have one of your old girlfriends in Japan pay for you."

"If I could get them to pay, would I be calling you?"

"What, they're broke or—oh. I get it."

Rinji's expression instantly filled with exasperation.

"You went out to sleep with prostitutes, didn't you?"

"Rinji, how can you say something so vulgar…"

"I'm done. I'm telling Grandma."

"Wait wait wait, let's talk this over."

"Where are you?"

"Kabukicho, Tokyo. Fifth floor of the Golden Entertainment Club. Please come save me."

"Alright, I'm on my way. Hang in there."

Rinji hung up the phone and checked the time.

"Hmm. I'll eat first."