"Who... who the hell are you? I'm warning you, don't meddle in our business! This is a grudge between the Eaststar Triad and the Thirteen Enforcers—outsiders should stay out, unless you want trouble!" Stanford, seeing the situation turn dire, immediately invoked his gang's power, glaring fiercely at Shawn Young.
But Shawn Young just strolled over with an easy smile, sneering, "Heh—ugly bucktooth, you think a few tough words will scare me off?"
Stanford glared at Shawn Young's annoyingly handsome face, wishing he could smash it right now. He took a deep breath to steady himself and barked, "You punk, you really want to butt in, huh? Tonight, I’ll knock your teeth out!"
But Shawn Young just shook his head and sighed, "You’ve got it wrong. You mess with my woman, and I’ll be the one knocking out your teeth! Relax! I’ll make sure to bust out every last one of them! That way, if you’re still alive, you can get yourself a nice new set of dentures. Honestly, those buckteeth of yours are a public menace!"
"Screw you!" Stanford exploded with rage—he hated it when people mocked his buckteeth, it was his sore spot. He swung the half-broken pistol in his hand at Shawn Young, but Shawn barely glanced at it, flicking it aside with a light touch—"Smack!" The gun bounced right back into Stanford’s face, smashing his mouth and knocking out a tooth. His lip instantly swelled up!
"Aaargh! You dare hit me? You're dead meat tonight!" Stanford, humiliated and furious, spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and charged at Shawn Young, unleashing all his strength in a wild attack.
Shawn Young was already standing there, feet apart in a casual stance, steady as a rock. As soon as Stanford lunged at him and touched him, he felt an overwhelming force rebound from Shawn’s body, shooting through his arms and flooding his whole body. Before he even knew what was happening, he was flying through the air, landing all the way at the far end of the corridor—at least ten meters away.
"Thud! Ah! Splat!"
Stanford’s mouth slammed into the floor in a full-on faceplant. Agonizing pain shot through his head as he spat out a mouthful of blood—and all his teeth came flying out. He passed out cold on the spot. This time, he’d really need those dentures!
"Wow! Master, I can't believe your martial arts have gotten so good! Amazing! How did you learn such incredible skills?" Yara Zen, now back on her feet, excitedly clung to Shawn Young's arm. She’d always thought Shawn was skilled in Taoist arts but pretty average at fighting. She never expected that after a short time apart, his martial arts would become so ridiculously powerful!
"Heh—I'll tell you all about it later. First, let me take care of these Japanese punks!" Shawn Young said, striding over to Kazuo Yamada and the others who were trying to retreat back into the private room and close the door. Since things had already gone south with Stanford, he figured he might as well deal with these Japanese troublemakers too.
"Bang—" Shawn Young kicked the private room door open with ease, then walked in, sneering at the Japanese men huddled in the corner, trembling with fear.
"Uh, w-what do you want? Listen, kid, I’m warning you—we’re with the Yamaguchi Syndicate! If you mess with us, the Yamaguchi Syndicate will put out a hit on you!" Kazuo Yamada stammered, backing away in panic as Shawn Young approached.
"A hit? Seriously? You Japanese guys still do that old-school stuff? What does a hit order even look like? Is it fancy? Can I see one?" Shawn Young grinned wickedly. With all his recent battle experience, his mind had gotten a bit twisted—he was starting to enjoy messing with his opponents.
"Uh… I didn’t bring it today. Maybe next time!" Kazuo Yamada replied awkwardly.
"But I want to see it right now. So what are you going to do?" Shawn Young teased, stepping closer to the Japanese men. He didn’t care about the Yamaguchi Syndicate or any other gang—now that he had real power, his attitude had shifted. Anyone who messed with him, especially his women, was going to pay! In his mind, Yara Zen, with her sultry charm, was already his 'sexy housekeeper'—his woman, no question.
"Kid! If you lay a finger on us, I swear you’ll see the Yamaguchi Syndicate’s hit order soon! Not only that, we’ll put a bounty on you and your whole family—hunt you all down! If you come any closer, I—I… What’ll it take for you to let us go?" Kazuo Yamada started off threatening, but as Shawn Young got closer, he turned into a total wimp.
"You’re really contradicting yourself. If you’re scared, just say so—if I’m in a good mood, maybe I’ll let you off. But what was with all those threats earlier? I always thought you Japanese guys had samurai spirit, but you? You’re just pathetic!" Shawn Young sneered, then struck out with lightning speed.
"Pow!" Kazuo Yamada took a direct hit to the chin, flying through the air and slamming into the corridor wall. He didn’t even have time to scream before collapsing to the floor, foaming at the mouth and passing out cold.
The remaining Japanese men panicked as a group. They knew they were no match for Shawn Young and retreated in terror, but there was nowhere left to run. Desperate, Masao Honda let out a muffled roar, ready to make a last stand.
But Shawn Young just stopped and said, "Yamaguchi Syndicate, huh? I’ll remember you guys. I’m coming to Japan someday, and when I get there, I want to see what your hit order looks like—don’t disappoint me!"
Masao Honda and the other Japanese men heard Shawn Young’s words and suddenly saw a glimmer of hope. Delighted, they asked, "So, uh, does that mean we can leave now?" They were already plotting to escape and come back with reinforcements to chop Shawn Young into mincemeat.
"Sure! Of course you can!" Shawn Young replied with a sinister grin, stepping aside to let them pass.
Masao Honda rushed out, picked up the unconscious Kazuo Yamada, and with the other Japanese men, nervously shuffled along the corridor wall. Once they got through, they thought they were safe and wiped the cold sweat from their foreheads. But then Shawn Young’s ghostly voice echoed behind them: "Hey, you think you can just leave like this? Shouldn’t you leave a little something for our Eaststar friends as a souvenir?"
The Japanese men heard this and were scared out of their wits, immediately sprinting for the exit. Shawn Young sneered, his body becoming a blur. In a flash, he was at the second-floor stairs, elegantly flicking his arm—his fruit knife now stained with blood.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! My ears!!"
A pile of oddly shaped ears hit the floor. The Japanese men howled in agony, clutching their bleeding ear stumps, grabbing for their severed ears, and scrambling down the stairs in a panic, not daring to stay a second longer.