Volume One: High School Days Chapter 068: The So-Called "Beggar Clan"

“Who are you?” Yagyu, standing at the door, heard someone questioning him. He didn’t reply, but strode straight in, glancing at the people around as he walked.

At the far end stood a table, around which eight men sat, drinking and playing cards. The floor was littered with the disabled—missing arms, missing legs, some elderly, some children. They watched Yagyu with terrified eyes, assuming he was another of their captors.

The eight men at the table, seeing Yagyu ignore them, all rose, each holding a bottle, and shouted again, “I asked you a question! Are you deaf or mute?”

Yagyu still said nothing, now standing in the center of the warehouse. As he stepped closer, he noticed a metal cage behind the eight men, inside which was a child about eight or nine years old, covered in wounds.

The eight men, alarmed by this uninvited guest, rushed at Yagyu, swinging their bottles to attack. But Yagyu’s body, enhanced by his developed mind, moved with astonishing speed. He casually caught one of the bottles mid-swing, and with a squeeze of his five fingers, shattered it—the fragments scattering across the floor.

Seeing him crush a bottle with one hand, none of the eight dared approach further, hesitating, unable to retreat or advance.

At the very back was a small room, where an old man, white-haired and about sixty, was reading a newspaper. Hearing the commotion outside, he put down the paper and stepped out.

He looked at the timid eight and said, “Cripple this brat for me, then drag him out and put him to begging. Let him earn us some money.”

The eight men hesitated at the old man’s command, but then all rushed Yagyu together. Yagyu struck one with a fist, kicked another over, and in no time, all eight lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

The old man, seeing Yagyu’s prowess, returned to his room and fetched a pistol from a drawer, then hurried out, standing at the doorway and pointing the gun at Yagyu. “Who are you, and what business do you have here?”

Yagyu fixed his gaze on the pistol. Time, under his gaze, seemed to freeze. He quickly ran to the old man, swiftly disassembled every component of the gun, and because time was stopped, the parts floated in midair, not falling to the ground.

When he finished, Yagyu returned to his original spot and, relaxing his eyes, watched the gun parts drop to the floor as time resumed. The old man, seeing the gun disintegrate in his hands, stared at Yagyu in panic. Yagyu now gave him a strange, unsettling smile.

The old man, unnerved by Yagyu’s smile and the scattered gun parts, quickly knelt, trembling. “Which underworld boss are you? Did one of my men offend you? If so, I’ll find him and hand him over for you to deal with personally.”

Yagyu was searching for the human trafficking ring, not these beggar handlers. His smile softened. “Why so nervous? I heard you deal in selling wives; I’m here to buy one.”

The old man, hearing Yagyu wanted to purchase a woman as a wife, hurriedly stood and trotted to Yagyu’s side. “That’s not our department’s business. You need to talk to our Human Resources division.”

Yagyu burst out laughing. “You have departments? Wait, let me laugh a bit more. Your company culture is impressive! So what’s your department? The frontline workshop?”

The old man, reassured by Yagyu’s laughter, realized he was not in danger and replied with a smile, “We’re the Business Department.” He gestured at the disabled people on the floor. “They’re our sales staff. I’m responsible for managing them.”

Yagyu’s laughter ceased immediately, his expression turning icy. “Where’s your boss?”

“At headquarters. Human Resources is there, too. Why do you ask?” the old man replied.

Yagyu smiled. “Nothing, just curious who your talented boss is, managing a beggars’ gang so efficiently. Well, tell me the address of your Human Resources department.”

Yagyu’s plan was to capture the ringleader first, use him as leverage, and dismantle the organization. He knew from the moment he entered that the boss wouldn’t be found in such a filthy place. Here were only those mutilated by the gang’s cruelty; no abducted women in sight. Initially, he’d thought the group specialized in abductions alone, but now saw there were many divisions. To destroy them, he must find the boss.

He asked about the Human Resources department, and refrained from attacking the Business Department directly, so as not to alert the boss. For such criminals, any hint of trouble prompts escape, not confrontation. They always have many escape plans, and once they run, no one can catch them, for their whole existence is in the shadows.

After learning the address, Yagyu prepared to leave. Suddenly, the child in the cage shook it violently. Yagyu turned back. “Is he your employee too?”

“He’s not,” the old man replied. “This child is our merchandise.”

Yagyu frowned. “Merchandise? What kind?”

Having witnessed Yagyu’s abilities, the old man dared not lie. “A hostage.”

Yagyu understood immediately. He recalled Zhao Bin’s words: even if ransom was paid, the gang would kill the victim to silence them.

He looked again at the child, pitying him. “Whose child is he?”

Though afraid, the old man adhered to his rules and answered respectfully, “We have our protocols, sir. Please don’t make things difficult for me.”

Yagyu’s icy stare unnerved the old man, who sighed and reluctantly explained, “We abducted him while he was sitting in a Maserati, no adults around. He refuses to speak, won’t say who his parents are. We don’t know whose child he is, but anyone in a car like that must be from a wealthy family, so we’ve been torturing him, hoping he’ll open up.”

Yagyu looked at the boy again, then said, “I’m taking him. Right now.”

He pitied the child, knowing he’d likely be killed, and admired his tenacity—abducted from a Maserati, yet refusing to speak. Clearly, the boy was extraordinary, perhaps the son of a prominent figure. Yagyu thought it wise to keep him close, so insisted on taking the child.

The old man was surprised. “Why do you want him? Is he yours?”

“Are you giving him or not? I don’t have time for nonsense. I’m tired and need to sleep,” Yagyu snapped, losing patience with the old man’s endless questions. He wasn’t here to make friends, but to wreck the gang’s operations.

The old man, intimidated by Yagyu’s tone, was about to speak, but Yagyu strode to the cage, yanked open the heavy lock with his bare hands—a feat that left everyone stunned. Crushing a bottle was impressive enough; now he’d torn open a massive lock.

Yagyu pulled the boy from the cage, carried him out, and the old man hurried after him, pleading, “We have rules! If those above find out, we’ll be executed!”

Yagyu ignored him. Once he found the boss, none of them would escape. Why should he pity those who thrived on cruelty? Without a glance back, he continued on.

Just then, one of the eight men, more fearless than the rest, rushed to block Yagyu. As he neared, Yagyu froze time with his eyes, turned, and delivered a kick that sent the man floating in midair, twenty centimeters off the ground. With time still stopped, the man hovered in the air.

Yagyu resumed his pre-kick stance, relaxed his gaze, and walked on. The man, as time resumed, crashed to the floor.

The old man was utterly speechless. From the others’ perspective, the man charged at Yagyu, who didn’t even move, and the man flew backward, landing heavily.

The man scrambled back, crying, “Monster! He’s a monster!”

The old man collapsed in terror, while the abused beggars saw in Yagyu a savior, kneeling and begging him to rescue them.

Yagyu left without a backward glance, thinking, “Don’t worry, soon you’ll all be free.”

After Yagyu departed, the kicked man continued muttering, “Monster. Definitely a monster.”

The old man recovered, strode over, and slapped him hard. “There’s no monster! He’s just a magician. Look at you, useless!”

He then addressed the restless crowd, “What, are you all too well-fed? Planning a revolt? Tomorrow, none of you eat!”

At his threat, everyone lowered their heads. Another man came up and asked, “So what do we do now? Should we report to those above?”

“No need. They don’t yet know about the child, since we haven’t identified him or determined if there’s money to be made. I haven’t reported it. Today was strange, but to avoid panic in our company, no one is to speak of it outside!”

Finally, the old man looked at the kicked man, dazed and babbling, and scoffed, “Thought you had guts, but you’re weak as can be!” He waved to the other seven, and ordered, “He’s gone mad, spouting nonsense. Pull out his tongue, and chop off one arm and one leg. In a few days, put him on the street to beg!”

The seven dragged the man to a room at the back of the warehouse. Soon, screams echoed out.

The old man wasn’t really worried about panic spreading through the company—such a big organization wouldn’t be frightened by a magician. His real concern was that the kidnapping hadn’t been reported upstairs. He’d kept it secret, hoping to cash in big and retire abroad, fearing that if those above found out, he’d be killed.