Chapter 148: An Email

“So this is what you wanted all along?”

In that instant Mei Sheng finally understood what kind of man Ji Li truly was.

Ji Li ignored her. He gave Gao Liangping a slight nod. Gao wasn’t slow to catch on—he yanked the curtain aside and shoved open the doors.

What lay outside brought a faint smile to Ji Li’s lips.

A medium-built man had completely blacked out, his hand twitching occasionally outside his sleeve. Fang Shenyan was dragging him by the collar, tossing him into the van.

Fang glanced toward those still inside the club, gave a small nod—it was him.

Takayama Toshino, forced out in less than five minutes by Ji Li’s method of stirring the grass and startling the snake.

Now it was clear: this Bunraku troupe had been involved in illegal dealings. That was why their contact was so secretive, why they feared the police.

Ji Li had guessed as much, which was why he’d chosen such a ruthless approach.

Inside the chaotic club, some men were already losing patience. A single gun wouldn’t be enough to keep so many strong fighters at bay.

Fortunately, the initial shock had frozen them in place, and Takayama fled too quickly to give Ji Li any real trouble.

Everything had gone unexpectedly smooth.

By the time the room began to stir, Ji Li was already leading his people out, piling into the van.

A cloud of white exhaust drifted by, the van’s battered engine roaring as it sped away.

Gao Liangping looked at the unconscious man beside him, curiosity flickering in his eyes. He slapped his cheek lightly and muttered,

“The stun baton really is a perfect tool for a snatch. Took him down just like that.”

Cui Yanqing wasn’t driving this time. Sitting in the passenger seat, he turned to glance at Takayama and spoke.

Chi Rou was behind the wheel now. They’d wanted Mei Sheng to drive, but she claimed she couldn’t.

Kondo Sei gazed at Takayama’s face with a trace of pity, sighing inwardly, as if recalling something.

Takayama had escaped the police, only to fall into the staffs’ hands.

That was no good thing. In fact, it was far worse than being arrested.

“Wake him up!”

Sure enough, Ji Li couldn’t wait another moment with such an important lead in hand.

Those who knew him understood—Takayama’s misery was only beginning.

Gao Liangping sighed, gave Takayama’s cheek a light slap—no effect. He swung harder, cracking him across the face.

Still, Takayama only groaned faintly, not waking.

Until—

Fang Shenyan, who had been waiting in the back, pulled out a knife and, without the slightest warning, plunged it straight into Takayama’s thigh!

“AHHH!!”

The searing pain tore him back to consciousness. Now he faced not only the shock’s aftereffects but also the blade in his leg, bleeding fast.

Takayama woke screaming, thrashing violently.

But his tied hands and feet held him fast. And when Fang wrenched the knife back out, blood spraying, Takayama nearly passed out again.

Ji Li irritably wiped the flecks of blood from his face with a handkerchief, rolled down the window, and tossed it out.

He shot Fang a displeased glance, then asked bluntly, “I want everything about the Bunraku troupe—the names, addresses, identities, backgrounds, connections…”

Kondo Sei knew this concerned their lives. Helpless though she felt toward Takayama, she forced herself to translate.

But Takayama’s reaction surprised Ji Li. At the question, he first froze, then shook his head violently.

His frantic manner suggested he was trying to explain, words spilling too fast for Kondo Sei to keep up.

Ji Li frowned. Could there be another twist?

“What did he say?”

Kondo Sei hesitated. Takayama’s answers had been broken, illogical—fear had nearly shattered him.

After several attempts to phrase it clearly, she finally relayed his words:

“He said there are three puppeteers in the Bunraku troupe, but they don’t know each other’s identities. Even their costumes on stage are disguises.

The only one he ever had contact with was the musician.

Once, after a performance, out of curiosity, he secretly approached the musician and they had a drink together.

Other than that, he knows nothing more.”

Ji Li fell silent, naturally slipping into thought, lighting a cigarette for himself.

“Ask him—what’s the purpose of the disguises?”

Takayama, not a bold man to begin with, dared not withhold anything now.

Kondo Sei translated quickly:

“About half a year ago, Takayama received a mysterious email. It was like an invitation.

It asked him to perform Bunraku puppet plays at Sunset Bridge regularly. Each appearance earned him 18 million yen.

At first he thought it was a scam and ignored it. But when his life became impossible to sustain, he finally agreed.”

Strangely, the moment he replied to that email, the doorbell rang—and a puppet figure stood right at his door.

After that came another email with detailed rules: he must never tell anyone he performed Bunraku puppet plays at Sunset Bridge; he had to wear a black bodysuit during performances; members of the troupe were forbidden from revealing their identities to one another.

Otherwise, not only would all payments be confiscated, but punishments would follow.

That was the secret of the Bunraku troupe—they were all drawn together by a mysterious email, strangers to each other.

“Huh? Then how could he drink with the musician in private? Wouldn’t that break the rules?” Gao Liangping asked in confusion.

Ji Li waved it off. “That’s not the point. He only drank with him, never learned the musician’s real identity. It was a loophole in the rules.”

After saying this, Ji Li glanced at the panicked Takayama Toshino, thinking to himself that the musician must be the next key.

This mission would rely heavily on gathering intelligence. Without it, piecing together the survival path of the puppet would be nearly impossible.

He quickly had Kondo Sei ask about the musician.

But Takayama didn’t know where the musician lived or even his name.

All he remembered was that they drank together once in the northwest Lower Kyoto District, on Rokugura Shopping Street, at a bar called Grey Nightdream.

That bar was a mask bar, where everyone wore masks to drink, flirt, and meet strangers.

With this new lead, Ji Li finally let out a breath of relief. At least it wasn’t a dead end.

Then Fang Shenyan suddenly asked, “What did the email Takayama received look like?”

Everyone froze for a moment, then understood. How could it be such a coincidence? These Bunraku members, crucial leads, had also been gathered through an email.

So—what was the connection between this email and the hotel emails?!