The location of the White Eagle Association's headquarters is in the eastern part of the Fifth District, close to the First District, so among the building materials used, the portion that could be considered garbage was much smaller, with more bricks and tiles instead.
Not outstanding, but more than adequate. Although it could not compare to Solzt's mansion, compared to the so-called "houses" in the residential area that did not even have a reasonably flat roof, it was still far more imposing.
Kisho reined in his Nen, held his breath, bypassed the listless guards at the entrance, and leapt up onto the low wall.
The low wall was embedded with countless shards of scrap metal and glass. Kisho condensed his Nen at the soles of his feet and his palms, moving unimpeded as he sprinted along the courtyard wall.
The guards on duty had no habit of looking upward. Everything went so smoothly it almost felt unbelievable, and he broke through all the way to the main hall.
...
"Noise, noise, noise! All you know how to do is make noise—what's the point of that?! Vincent that bastard's people have already fought their way to the door! Instead of arguing here, why don't you go out and fight them? A bunch of trash!"
"You're only fierce with your mouth. If you've got the guts, why don't you go up there yourself?!"
"Everyone knows what you're scheming. I'll put my words here today—however many people you send, I'll send the same number. Don't even think about using my people as cannon fodder!"
Lying prone on the roof, Kisho listened to the filthy argument below. The topic kept looping endlessly around "you send people first, then I'll send people" and "if you don't send people, neither will I," mixed in with countless pieces of private dirt filthier than an open sewer. By the end, Kisho even wanted to cover his ears.
This was truly mental pollution.
Kisho silently gathered Nen into his hands, silently pried up and removed a roof tile easily, and looked into the room.
Six chairs were placed in the center of the hall.
A burly man and a wiry man stood in front of the chairs, glaring angrily at each other, shouting until their faces were red and their necks thick, spittle flying everywhere.
A woman with loose hair sat in one of the chairs, extending a finger and idly spinning the ring on it.
A middle-aged man who looked to be in his fifties wore a gloomy expression, speaking quietly with a nearby hall master who was just as grim-faced.
The final chair—the one closest to the seat of honor at the front of the hall—was empty.
As for the central seat of the hall, there was no one on the left. On the right sat a young man in a dark-colored suit, silent, smiling faintly as he watched the people below argue.
After quite a while, seeing that the two below had no intention of stopping, he finally gave a light cough.
"Has Kleri still not arrived?"
At his words, the two who had been arguing fell silent at once, and the expressions of the others also became strange.
If there was still an open, acknowledged obstacle called the "vice chairman" standing between them and the chairman's seat, then the perpetually absent "hall master" was different—his power was like a slab of fatty meat to the other hall masters, something everyone wanted to take a bite out of.
And among the minor leaders standing behind the hall masters, the same light called ambition and desire appeared in their eyes.
"Short yellow hair, gray eyes, about one meter seventy tall, with a scar about two inches long on his face. Mm..."
Kisho looked over them one by one.
"—Ah, found him."
Behind the empty chair stood a man with his head lowered and eyes downcast, looking honest and timid.
With a question from the vice chairman, the group once again started discussing "if Kleri never comes back, how should his people and territory be handled," and in the end, it once again devolved into unbearable verbal attacks.
After waiting for the two to argue for a while and vent most of their firepower, the vice chairman finally smiled and spoke.
"How about this, everyone. Why not let someone from Kleri's side temporarily act as hall master? If any of you need personnel support, you can directly seek 'negotiation' with the acting hall master. How does that sound?"
Without waiting for anyone to react, he casually shifted his gaze to the empty chair, then smiled.
"Kleri mentioned to me before that Wenide is fairly familiar with their area. Why not let him act as hall master for a period of time?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the entire hall fell into sudden silence.
Wenide raised his head in disbelief. A complex mix of shock, joy, and fear flashed through his eyes.
Ignoring the strange, jealousy- and hatred-filled looks cast his way by the other minor leaders, he stepped forward and respectfully addressed the man in the suit at the front of the hall.
"Thank you for your appreciation. I will definitely assist you and the hall masters to the best of my ability and will not betray your trust."
The hall masters who had been arguing moments ago all turned their gazes toward him.
The wiry man looked at him, curled the corner of his mouth, and seemed to envision a situation that would be easy to control, satisfaction visible in his eyes.
The burly man let out a cold laugh but said nothing.
"If none of you have any objections, then let's settle it this way. As for the East District, have hall master Wenide send people over to fill in for now—hall master Wenide, you have no objections, I presume?"
Wenide lowered his head and said respectfully, "I will make the arrangements immediately."
"Then that will be all for today." The vice chairman raised his brows slightly and smiled faintly, speaking in a gentle, reassuring tone.
"As for the 'raw liquid,' I imagine everyone still has some stock, so there's no need to worry. After the chairman's departure, the transactions with the Bankro family will be handled by me and will not be affected in the slightest."
The crowd fell silent.
Lying on the roof, Kisho quietly memorized the surname related to the "raw liquid" that the vice chairman had mentioned.
"Bankro."
After the vice chairman spoke, the people in the hall gradually left one after another, leaving only the vice chairman still seated, his eyes half-closed.
Before Wenide exited the hall, the vice chairman opened his eyes and smiled at him, wearing the encouraging smile of a superior toward a subordinate.
"Do a good job."
Wenide hurriedly acknowledged and then withdrew.
Kisho looked toward that vice chairman.
He had promoted a seemingly timid and useless new hall master. If this person could withstand the pressure, he would become someone who could be used by him in the future—one of his own faction. If he could not, then he would serve as an excellent buffer to reduce the pressure the other hall masters placed on him.
At the same time, with Kleri's fate currently unknown, letting a useless person act as his proxy also helped him seize the initiative. If Kleri was not dead and returned, this person could likewise be pulled into his camp.
And that final line, "the transactions will be handled by me," was nothing less than a naked threat—yet the hall masters had no way to deal with him.
Perhaps this man was indeed lacking in martial strength, but he was still not to be underestimated.
Kisho withdrew his gaze, silently descended from the roof, and followed behind Wenide.
...
Wenide walked into an empty alley and then stopped.
His face was livid as he cursed under his breath, spewing obscenities he dared not say aloud—the vice chairman having him act as hall master was clearly putting him over an open flame!
He might be a bit timid, but that did not mean he was stupid.
There were four or five minor leaders under Kleri; he was only one of them. Even if he had now become the so-called "acting hall master," setting aside whether he could even command the other minor leaders, just the phrase "have him fill in for the East District first" was enough to exhaust his people within a few days.
Wenide continued cursing and viciously kicked away trash blown over by the wind, but before his anger had fully vented, he suddenly stopped.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, staring at the child in front of him, his voice carrying a bloodthirsty edge.
"Get lost."
Kisho ignored both his gaze and his words and went straight to the point.
"Do you know Coren? All of his men are dead."
At those words, Wenide fell abruptly silent.
He quickly swallowed the curses he had not yet voiced, suppressed his anger, and carefully examined the child who was speaking to himself, then asked cautiously.
"How do you know that?!"
"Instead of asking how I know, you'd be better off dealing with him first." Kisho took a step toward him.
"As long as you deal with him first, handling the others afterward will be much easier." He smiled slightly. "Am I right, hall master Wenide?"
Wenide's pupils shrank.
Just as he had thought earlier, he was only a bit timid—but absolutely not stupid.
This child knew his background and knew exactly what he needed most right now. He knew so many things and could move in and out of the White Eagle Association as if it were an empty place—his strength was absolutely not what he appeared to be, merely a thin, harmless-looking child.
Did that mean Coren's arm had been broken by this child, and that the few men under him who never returned after that day had also been dealt with by this child?
Wenide stared solemnly at the child standing casually ten meters away, as if staring at a monster that could suddenly lash out at any moment.
Although such a guess sounded unbelievable, people from Meteor City were different from those outside—they never underestimated children. Over the years, there had been no shortage of useless adults in Meteor City who had died at the hands of children.
This child knew what had just happened inside the White Eagle Association's main hall, so he had chosen Wenide because he believed that Wenide, in his current state, was the most suitable investment target.
At this moment, countless thoughts surfaced in Wenide's mind.
But he knew that, right now, there was no better choice than "suppressing the others and firmly securing the hall master position for himself."
With that in mind, he made his decision.
...
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