...
New Eridu – inside a corporate high-rise.
This building sat close to a Hollow and had been abandoned years ago by the company that originally occupied it. Because it lay outside the jurisdiction of the Public Security Bureau's regular patrols, it had frequently been taken over by criminal groups.
Currently, the ones occupying it were the very people Zhong Yan had been desperately trying to locate—the Red Fang Gang.
At that moment, inside a lavishly furnished lounge, the Red Fang Gang's leader, Miguel Silver, sat cross-legged on a rich man's sofa.
His gaze was locked onto the smart TV in front of him, which was broadcasting news about the recent assault on the White Star Institute's research facility.
The news anchor tactfully stated that the Public Security Bureau was making every effort to pursue the Red Fang Gang—but in truth, the investigation had made no real progress.
Worse still, under Miguel Silver's machinations, numerous Peace Officers had died at the hands of the gang.
That explained why, in the game, the Sky Patrol of the Public Security Bureau wouldn't hesitate to flatten a whole building if it meant executing justice on the Red Fang Gang.
To them, the Red Fang Gang was no longer just a bunch of street thugs or a typical criminal organization—they were outright terrorists.
But Miguel Silver didn't care about any of that. As his ambitions grew, the Red Fang Gang had long ceased to be the vigilante justice group it once was. Now, all they wanted was more wealth and power.
And to that end, they were even willing to cooperate with shady high-ranking officials. For instance, the attack on the White Star Institute had been carried out under direct orders from one such official.
That man was powerful—so powerful that even now, long after the attack, the Public Security Bureau still hadn't uncovered a single lead pointing to the Red Fang Gang. The high-ranking official's interference was a major reason why.
It was further proof that New Eridu wasn't as polished and prosperous as it appeared. In its shadows, countless secret deals were constantly being made.
"Boss! Boss!" Suddenly, one of the Red Fang Gang's grunts burst into the lounge, cutting through Miguel Silver's fantasies of glory and riches and earning a cold, sharp glare.
Feeling that gaze, the grunt instantly broke into a cold sweat but still forced himself to report: "The bombs we left in the Hollow were triggered!"
Miguel Silver, who had been fuming a second ago, froze. Then, realization struck—and two scalding tears rolled down his cheeks.
He sobbed, his voice thick with emotion: "The explosion… so that means, a lot of people died there, right?"
"I sent someone to check," the grunt replied. "The building's ruins are littered with charred flesh and Bangboo parts. Must've been a bunch of Hollow Raiders who caught wind of our setup and went there—only to get blown to bits."
The grunt showed no concern for Miguel Silver's tears. After all, they were a signature of his. These days, they called him the Repentant Warlord.
That confirmation only made Miguel Silver cry harder. "What a shame... so many vibrant lives, now reduced to chunks of meat. But hey, they had it coming. Who told them to mess with us?"
Just as suddenly, the sobbing stopped. A flash of cruelty passed through his eyes. "Anyone who dares oppose us... ends up like that."
His gaze drifted downward—almost unconsciously—landing on a fairly inconspicuous safe under the sofa.
That safe was the spoils of their raid on the White Star Institute—and the very item that high-ranking official had specifically ordered him to acquire.
For now, the Red Fang Gang was holding onto it. Once the time was right, they'd hand it over.
Miguel Silver didn't care what the official planned to do with the safe. All he cared about was the promise the man had made him—
A chance for the Red Fang Gang to rise to power in New Eridu. That was something he would never let slip away.
And as for those who dared get in their way? He'd kill every last one of them.
...
At the same time, atop a high-rise in New Eridu—
Night had fallen. Zhong Yan, now in his Uchiha persona, stood at the edge of a rooftop. In front of him hung a massive, ominous blood moon—its hue so intense it almost felt psychological.
The open rooftop, combined with the stark contrast in scale between him and the moon, created a striking visual impact.
Since leaving the Hollow, his collaboration with the sibling duo had entered a cooldown phase. During this time, he needed to track down the Red Fang Gang's movements before the next step of their partnership could continue.
But the gang's whereabouts were a mystery even to the Public Security Bureau—clearly, someone was helping them stay hidden. Investigating them wouldn't be easy.
Fortunately, Zhong Yan had special methods at his disposal to ease the process.
With that thought, he didn't hesitate. The Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan lit up beneath his mask, and in the next instant, his figure was pulled into Kamui's dimensional space.
The rooftop fell silent. Nothing and no one remained—just the blood-red moon still hanging ominously overhead, as if to warn: Tonight would be anything but peaceful.
...
Elsewhere in a New Eridu entertainment district—
Two Red Fang Gang members, thoroughly wasted, stumbled out of a lounge, propping each other up. Even as they left, they shot aggressive, lingering glances at the bunny girls waving them off.
Once they were gone, one of the bunny girls dropped her professional smile and scowled in disgust before heading back in to serve other guests.
As for the two drunk gangsters, they tried retracing their steps back to the gang's temporary hideout in the district.
It was late. Other than a few 24-hour shops with their lights still on, the streets were mostly empty—populated only by late-shift workers and wandering vagrants.
But the chilling atmosphere, amplified by alcohol, meant nothing to the two. Neither of them noticed the spatial distortion that occurred as they rounded a corner.
It wasn't until one of them realized that what should have been a 20-minute walk had somehow turned into 40 that he sensed something was wrong.
Sobriety hit like a slap. He jerked his head up—and in the flickering streetlamp at the end of the road, he vaguely made out a figure.
Someone stood there, clad in a deep blue cloak, clutching another man's head.
The victim's eyes were rolled back, drool dripping from his slack jaw. He knelt lifelessly, arms hanging at his sides, as if his soul had been sucked out—leaving only a shell behind.
And that man... was the very friend he had been walking with just seconds ago.