At that moment, more people walked out of the club.
A burly man strode out without sparing a glance at anyone, but he sneered in contempt at Mark, who was standing next to Yamiru. "Go home and drink your milk, kid. Just like your old man—useless."
Behind him, a short, stocky man rushed out in a panic.
"You bastard!" The spiky-haired boy gritted his teeth and lunged forward, only to be sent flying by a single kick from the burly man, rolling to the side.
Yamiru raised an eyebrow. This guy's skill was slightly inferior to King Chappa's, but from an ordinary person's perspective, he was still formidable—easily capable of overwhelming the Yamiru who had first left Southern Capital.
"Pathetic!" The burly man had no interest in arguing with the manager. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a capsule, pressed the button with a click, and casually tossed it.
It was a motorcycle capsule, but before it could hit the ground, a hand reached out and caught it midair.
"What the hell are you doing?!" The burly man was stunned.
The short, stocky manager and the lion-headed and tiger-headed bouncers at the entrance all gaped in shock. Who in their right mind would catch an activated capsule with their bare hands? That was a death wish!
BOOM!
A cloud of smoke erupted in Yamiru's hand, quickly followed by an explosion.
When the smoke cleared, he was holding a pile of scorched, twisted metal that was once a motorcycle, still emitting black smoke.
He glanced at his half-burnt sleeve and clicked his tongue. "Damn, now Tights is gonna scold me…"
"You…" Mark stared, dumbfounded. Not even a scratch? What kind of monster was this?!
The short, stocky manager hesitated in disbelief before cautiously asking, "Are you… Yamiru?"
Yamiru looked over and chuckled. "Ah, it's you, Zanpa. I was just looking for you."
"It really is you!" Zanpa was pleasantly surprised, but then he quickly realized something and gasped. "Wait… are you planning to become a professional fighter?"
"What?" The burly man was completely dumbfounded. A monster like this joining the league?
Yamiru casually crushed the mangled remains of the motorcycle into an even tighter ball of scrap and tossed it at the burly man's feet. "Apologize."
The burly man lowered his head. "I'm sorry."
"Not to me." Yamiru flicked his foot, sending the compacted wreckage soaring twenty meters into a roadside trash bin. "To the boy."
"Ah?" The burly man took a deep breath, then turned to Mark. "I'm sorry."
Mark noticed the vicious glare in the man's eyes as he lowered his head.
The burly man quickly left. When Yamiru looked toward the club entrance, the lion and tiger bouncers were sweating bullets, instinctively taking a step back.
"Let's find a place to talk," Yamiru said casually, turning to Zanpa and Mark. "I'll be staying here for quite a while."
"Sounds good. It's been a long time—we should catch up," Zanpa said with a grin. "With skills like yours, I guess you've finally achieved your old dream."
Yamiru chuckled. "You don't read the newspapers? I'm the World Martial Arts Tournament champion."
Zanpa waved his hand dismissively. "Who pays attention to that kind of event?"
Mark, still bewildered, followed the two of them.
Half an hour later, at a roadside restaurant.
"So, you're that kid from Southern Capital back then, huh?"
"And you were a kid too! How did you grow up so fast?"
Zanpa had treated them to a meal. Across from Yamiru, Mark was stuffing his face, eating furiously. After a brief exchange, Yamiru finally confirmed that the boy had indeed been to Southern Capital with his father. Once they recalled some details, they immediately remembered each other.
Mark's father, Marda, had once tried to recruit Yamiru into his camp, training him to debut as a professional fighter.
Fate had taken its twists and turns—back then, Yamiru had set out for Mount Paozu, and now he had come to this city of fighters, planning to debut as one himself. Life was full of unexpected turns.
"I've been training constantly, way beyond what normal people do, plus I eat a lot of meat, so I grew fast," Yamiru said nonchalantly.
Having lived two lives, he no longer cared about his exact age—it was a pointless concern with no real answer.
Mark, his cheeks puffed full of food, grumbled, "That's all it takes to grow that much? I train every day too. My dad even said I was—"
As soon as he mentioned his father, Mark fell silent, lowering his head and eating quietly.
"His father?" Yamiru glanced at Zanpa.
Zanpa sighed. "Mark's dad used to be a fighter, but he never achieved much. He retired years ago and started training his son, but… a few years back, he suddenly passed away."
Mark muttered through his food, his voice muffled, "He was murdered… by a hitman named Tao Pai Pai…" His eyes reddened. "All because he made a joke… That bastard killed my dad for a stupid joke… Damn it!"
"Tao Pai Pai!?" Zanpa inhaled sharply. "That's the world's number one assassin! He's got a terrifying reputation in the underworld. No wonder the news never covered it… Kid, let me give you some advice—don't even think about revenge. Tao Pai Pai isn't someone a normal person can fight against!"
Mark looked up, his expression bleak. Just remembering how Tao Pai Pai had killed his father was enough to make his soul tremble.
He shook his head and muttered to himself, "How could that be...?" He continued eating in silence.
"As long as you're not thinking about revenge, I think even Yamiru wouldn't be able to compare to that kind of monster. It's simply from two completely different worlds," Zanpa said. His main impression of Yamiru was still from years ago, when Yamiru couldn't even handle a huge shark. He muttered to himself, "But it's strange, there's been no news of Tao Pai Pai since a few years ago. Many people say he retired and washed his hands of the world."
At this moment, Yamiru spoke up, "Tao Pai Pai is dead."
Mark, who had been eating, looked up in surprise.
Zanpa also looked at him with an expression as if to say, "What did you just say?"
"I killed him with my own hands," Yamiru didn't mention the tragic things he had gone through under Tao Pai Pai's hands, he simply smiled lightly and said, "If it comforts you, don't worry, his death... was very tragic."
"Y-you're serious?" Zanpa felt like the shift in topic was too sudden and was caught off guard, "You're saying you killed Tao Pai Pai? The brutal, terrifying number one killer in the world?"
Yamiru said, "I know better than you how cruel and heartless he was. But yes, he's dead. Tao Pai Pai was a killer, but number one in the world? He didn't deserve that title."
His voice grew a bit colder, as though there was a story hidden behind it. Zanpa and Mark didn't dare to ask further.
Fortunately, someone came to break the awkward silence at the table.
"Yamiru."
Tights, now in casual clothes, waved and walked over, sitting down next to Yamiru. Yamiru had already called Tights on his way to the restaurant.
"Zanpa, long time no see," Tights greeted Zanpa politely, even though she couldn't quite remember him at first.
But Zanpa was clearly impressed. This was the daughter of the world-famous Capsule Corporation, after all!
Seeing their closeness, Zanpa couldn't help but wonder... what was going on?
"Haha," Tights noticed Zanpa's look and casually draped her arm around Yamiru's shoulder, "Yeah, we're a couple now."
Zanpa nodded, still processing the information, and asked, "So, you two are here because...?"
Yamiru answered, "Just like you guessed, yes. I plan to become a fighter, participate in the... fighting league you mentioned? Something like that."
"Ah, I see," Zanpa quickly grew puzzled, "But why?"
When it came to strength, Yamiru had already killed the world's number one killer, Tao Pai Pai. He didn't need to improve his skills in a fighting league, right? Even the reigning champion, Gaw, wouldn't stand a chance against Tao Pai Pai, would he?
And if it was about money... come on, your girlfriend is the daughter of the wealthiest man in the world! She's a top-tier rich girl! And from the looks of things, you two have a close relationship, it seems like marriage is on the horizon. Do you really need money? With a girlfriend like Tights, the word "money" should have been erased from your dictionary, and you'd never need to worry about it again.
Yamiru smiled and said, "I need real combat, a lot of real combat. It doesn't matter if the opponent's strength is high or low, so after thinking about it, I thought of you. Joining the league seemed like a good choice."
Zanpa said, "Because the commercial league has a lot of matches, right... I get it now, though I still don't fully understand. But, sorry, I'm under contract, so I probably can't be your manager."
Mark, the explosion-haired youth, muttered, "Isn't that the jerk from earlier? Why would you work for someone like him?"
Zanpa sighed, "Even if you say that, I can't just break my contract and quit..."
"I can be your manager," Tights suddenly said, "If Zanpa could explain how it works..."
"You can?" Yamiru looked at her.
"What, you underestimate me?" Tights smiled, "I may not be as good as my sister, but I'm still pretty smart."
Zanpa breathed a sigh of relief, "No problem, all the professional knowledge is covered by me. Actually, there's not much to it, since the focus is still on the fighter. As for Yamiru... he'll be fine!"
"You can have a code name," Mark suddenly said, "Many professional fighters have code names or stage names. The strongest one in our dojo is known as Mr. Satan. Yamiru, you'll definitely get that title, right?"
Yamiru smiled and said, "I'm not going to compete with you. As for the code name... how about 'Masked Man?"
"Hmm?" Zanpa was puzzled, "Why Masked Man?"
Tights, having spent so much time with Yamiru, had a bit of insight into his training direction, and she suddenly understood, "I get it now."
Yamiru said, "Because I'll fight with my face covered."
He looked out at the busy street and the neon lights, as if seeing the boy who passed by here many years ago.
The boy turned around and locked eyes with Yamiru. The golden light in their eyes had never faded.
"Fighter Yamiru will first go blind."
He gently tapped a chopstick against the edge of the bowl, making a light 'ding' sound.
"Then he'll go deaf."
Ding.
"Even the nose can't smell the scent."
Ding.
"How should one fight when they are immersed in the darkest world?"
Ding. The chopsticks pressed against the edge of the bowl, stopping the trembling sound.
Yamiru muttered, "I also want to know that... If I truly have no qualifications, no talent, then the only thing I can do is push myself into a corner."
Zanpa and the explosive-headed boy, Mark, exchanged glances. They couldn't follow Yamiru's train of thought.
Tights's hand covered Yamiru's, and her head rested on his shoulder as she said, "No matter what, I support you. Do what you want to do."
Yamiru nodded.
After a while, Yamiru suddenly asked, "Be my manager, is that what you really want?"
"Hmm?"
"Aren't you always wanting to be a novelist?"
"Trying to trick me, huh?" Tights raised an eyebrow. "For a writer, everything in life can be material for writing. I didn't compromise myself for you, doing something I didn't want to do. I'm genuinely interested in trying out being a combat sports manager. It might be fun."
Yamiru asked Zanpa, "Do you think it'll be fun?"
Zanpa instinctively said, "It'll be so tiring, you'll want to die..."
Yamiru looked at Tights, who raised an eyebrow and said, "Well, if the athlete you're managing is no good, then it wouldn't be fun. But if you're training a champion, then it would definitely be fun."
Yamiru nodded. "You're right."
Tights and he shared a smile.
Zanpa: "..."
Mark also exchanged a glance with Zanpa, both of them feeling that the relationship and rhythm between the two in front of them were so close that it felt impossible for anyone else to get involved.
...
Thus, martial artist Yamiru temporarily became combat sports athlete Yamiru.
At the Satan Combat Dojo in Heil City, another registered member named "The Masked Man" was added to the list.
Each time he trained or competed, he would cover his eyes with a thick cloth.
At first, with his eyes covered, he could barely fight back, constantly being beaten.
Then, relying on his monstrous body and bottomless stamina, he managed to wear his opponents out until they surrendered...
The first year's regular season of the Combat League ended.
This uniquely styled Masked Man, with his unreasonable approach, forced his way into the playoffs.
However, no one knew that, in the Masked Man's own eyes, time was running out for him.
"Are you okay?"
After the first match of the playoffs, where Yamiru had once again triumphed through sheer physical power, Tights, his manager, was massaging his shoulders at the hotel.
Yamiru looked at the thick cloth he used to cover his eyes and sighed, "It's not working! When I focus, my senses are still too sharp. I can't control it... The cloth seems to be getting thinner and thinner. Just a little bit of light passing through is enough for me to 'see' the opponent's movements."
"We change it every time. How could the cloth get thinner?" Tights complained.
"The cloth needs to be thicker!" Yamiru said. "Also, we need to custom-make a pair of earplugs, the kind that's completely soundproof."
He murmured to himself, "Senses are an obstacle... I need to replace external senses with my mind..."
"Alright, I'll do it your way." Tights, exhausted from massaging for so long, grabbed Yamiru, "Now... you listen to me."
...
...
Three years, almost four, later, someone came knocking.
Yamiru removed the cloth from his eyes, looking surprised at the person who had arrived.