26: Chapter 26 The Legend of the Ninja

"Those ninjas hiding in the shadows, it's your turn to contribute materials."

Yan Zheng rested for three full days.

His Mental Power slowly recovered from one point to the full value of nine. During this time, he didn't go anywhere, just read books and drank tea in his Antique Shop, occasionally receiving a few tourists who came to buy fake antiques.

March 19th, 6:30 PM.

There weren't many people in Old Jack's bar. At this time on a weekday, only a few regulars were sitting at the bar drinking beer and watching the game.

Yan Zheng pushed open the door, entered, and sat down in his usual spot in the corner of the bar.

Old Jack was wiping a glass. Seeing him come in, a smile appeared beneath his graying beard.

"Brother Yan, haven't seen you in a few days. The usual?"

"Yes, please, Uncle Jack."

A glass of hot water was served.

Yan Zheng picked up the glass to warm his hands, looked around the bar, and then lowered his voice.

"Uncle Jack, I recently made an antique deal. A Chinese client wants to collect a set of Eastern-style blades, the older the better."

Old Jack's action of wiping the glass paused for a moment.

"What kind of blades?"

"Japanese-style, short blades, like a wakizashi." Yan Zheng used his hand to indicate the length. "Things like this are hard to find in Hells Kitchen, but I heard that some... special channels might have them."

Old Jack put down the glass and wiped his hands with a towel.

"What do you mean by special channels?"

"I heard people say." Yan Zheng's voice dropped another half-degree. "In the underground tunnels of this area, a group of Easterners dressed in black are active."

Old Jack's hand paused for a moment.

Yan Zheng didn't press further, just drank his water quietly, waiting for the other's reaction.

There was silence for about ten seconds.

"Who did you hear that from?"

"The workers on the night shift at the docks. Last month, two people saw some figures near the sewer entrance on 39th Street. Dressed in black, moving very fast, crawling out of the manhole and back in, just like ghosts."

Old Jack's expression changed. He was no longer the cheerful pub owner; his brows knitted together, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes bunched up.

"Brother Yan."

"Hm?"

"Don't go provoking those people."

Yan Zheng put down his water glass, rested his hands crossed on the bar, and the gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses carried just the right amount of curiosity.

"Uncle Jack knows them?"

Old Jack looked left and right, confirmed no one was paying attention, then leaned down, his voice extremely low.

"I don't know them, but I know some things."

"What things?"

"The winter before last, Old Suzuki who ran the sushi shop on 35th Street, you know him, right?"

"I know, that shop is closed now."

"It closed because Old Suzuki died." Old Jack's voice was even lower. "The Police said it was a home invasion robbery, but I lived on the same street as him, and I saw what happened that night."

"What did you see?"

"Three black shadows climbed in through his back window. It took less than thirty seconds. When they came out, they were carrying a cloth bag." Old Jack used his hand to indicate the size. "About the size of a human head."

Yan Zheng's expression didn't change, but his fingers tapped lightly on the side of the glass twice.

"And then?"

"Then the next day the Police came and said Old Suzuki had been slashed seven times. The wounds were neat, not like a regular kitchen knife. The coroner's report said it was some kind of extremely sharp short blade, single-edged, with a blade length of about thirty centimeters."

"Japanese short blade."

"See, you said it yourself."

"Uncle Jack, do these black shadows have any organizational characteristics? Uniforms, code words, gathering points, or something like that?"

Old Jack hesitated for a moment.

"Why are you asking these things?"

"Business people need to know who their neighbors are on their turf." Yan Zheng smiled slightly. "In case they ever come to my Antique Shop, I need to know how to handle it."

Old Jack sighed and put down the glass.

"Fine, it's not exactly a secret anyway. The old residents around here all know a little bit."

He leaned in half an inch.

"Those people aren't regular gangsters. They don't deal in drugs, don't run casinos, don't do human trafficking. They only do one thing."

"What thing?"

"Killing."

Old Jack held up a finger.

"Professional killing. They take money and get the job done, never failing. It's said that half the time when the big shots in New York move against each other, they hire them to do it."

"Do they have a name?"

"I heard people use a term." Old Jack lowered his voice to the limit. "The Hand."

Yan Zheng picked up his water glass and took a sip, hiding the upward curve of the corner of his mouth.

"The Hand. Sounds like a Japanese martial arts sect."

"Don't underestimate them." Old Jack shook his head. "There was an Irishman who ran a shipping company near the docks, named Richie. Last year he had a conflict with The Hand and wanted to play hardball."

"And the result?"

"Richie brought twelve men, fully armed, submachine guns and bulletproof vests, not missing a thing."

"And then?"

Old Jack wiped the water stains on the bar with a towel, his expression carrying the unease of recalling a nightmare.

"The next morning, twelve corpses were neatly laid out on the lawn in front of Richie's house. Every corpse had its throat cut in the exact same spot, the wounds identical, like they were produced on an assembly line."

"Twelve fully armed men, overnight?"

"Overnight." Old Jack repeated, his tone carrying the warning of someone who had seen it all. "Brother Yan, I know you need connections for business, but some connections aren't for you to touch. Those people don't listen to reason, and they don't care about money."

"Understood, thank you for the reminder, Uncle Jack." Yan Zheng put down his water glass, pulled a ten-dollar bill from his pocket, and placed it on the bar. "For the water today."

"Why pay for a cup of hot water?"

"Then consider it for the next drink."

Yan Zheng stood up, straightened the hem of his suit, and walked toward the tavern door.

Old Jack shouted from behind.

"Brother Yan, don't do anything foolish. Those people aren't someone you can provoke."

"Don't worry, Uncle Jack, I was just asking casually."

Yan Zheng pushed open the wooden door of the tavern, and the cold March night wind blew in.

After the door closed, he stood by the street, hands in his trouser pockets, the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting the light of the street lamps.

"The Hand."

He searched his past-life memories.

Marvel TV Universe, one of Daredevil's arch-enemies.

An ancient ninja organization originating from the East, that worships the demon of the Dark Hand, using the Black Sky Ritual to strengthen the ninjas' bodies.

The Elite Ninja who have been baptized by the ritual have bone density three times that of a normal person, and their muscle fiber toughness and explosive power far exceed normal human limits.

And the most crucial point—

Their enhancement is not Mutant genes, not Super Soldier serum, but a kind of "dark psionic modification" that lies between science and mysticism.

"Non-human type special materials."

He remembered the prompt on his system panel that had never lit up.

[Stitched Soldier blueprint second stage unlock condition: Fuse at least one type of special bone material of "non-human/supernatural origin".]

The Hand's ninjas, their bones strengthened by the Black Sky Ritual, do they count as "supernatural origin"?

Yan Zheng could almost be certain—they do.

He looked up at the night sky over Hells Kitchen, stained red by neon lights.

"Twelve fully armed men couldn't do anything about them."

"But those twelve men didn't have Stone Armor Guards and Stitched Brutes."

Yan Zheng turned and walked toward the Antique Shop, his footsteps tapping out a steady, unhurried rhythm on the empty sidewalk.

"The Hand's ninjas."

The corners of his mouth curved up, his voice melting into the March night wind.

"I hope your bones are worthy of your reputation."