The stunned silence from the three middle-aged Japanese men greeted Yang Yi’s question. However, Miyamoto Sakurako was less hesitant and stated plainly, "The faction we currently control amounts to only forty-five percent of the entire Miyamoto family!"

"Forty-five percent?" Yang Yi frowned, asking, "Besides Miyamoto Taro, are there other factions within the Miyamoto family?"

"No!" Miyamoto Sakurako replied truthfully.

"Then that means the remaining fifty-five percent has completely fallen into Miyamoto Taro’s hands?" Yang Yi narrowed his eyes, a sudden displeasure brewing within him.

Miyamoto Sakurako trembled slightly upon seeing Yang Yi's slightly icy expression and quickly asserted, "Yes!"

"It seems you weren't entirely truthful with me earlier?" Yang Yi stated coldly.

The truth was that Miyamoto Sakurako had previously omitted telling Yang Yi that the vast majority of the Miyamoto family's power was already in Miyamoto Taro’s grip, only informing Yang Yi of the family's current standing. Undeniably, this left Yang Yi intensely displeased, feeling as though he had been used.

"This..." Miyamoto Sakurako immediately dropped to one knee, saying, "I sincerely apologize for not making this clear to you earlier!"

"Hmph!" Yang Yi stood up, let out a cold snort, and walked to the window. "You should know what the consequences would be if I were to go back on my word now, correct?"

"I am sorry, this is my fault, but you must help us, otherwise..." Miyamoto Sakurako inwardly regretted letting that detail slip. If Yang Yi suddenly reneged on his promise, the consequences would be dire. Not only would reclaiming the Miyamoto family's assets be impossible, but her own life and the lives of those controlling the remaining forty-five percent would be in grave danger.

The three middle-aged Japanese men seemed to snap to awareness at that moment, quickly kneeling as well. They implored, "Mr. Yang, we beg you to help us. Moreover, if you assist us, the Miyamoto family will henceforth follow your every command!"

"Follow my every command?" Yang Yi sneered internally, noting their adept use of Chinese idioms. After a lengthy contemplation, perhaps a few minutes, Yang Yi finally spoke, "I can continue to assist you, but..."

Miyamoto Sakurako’s face lit up with hope, and she quickly asked, "But what?"

"But I require absolute candor from all of you. While I have the capability to help you, I also possess the power to destroy you!" Yang Yi said with a sudden, almost ghostly intensity. Though the words sounded simple, they carried a deeper, veiled meaning.

Miyamoto Sakurako and the three men froze for a moment, then seemed to grasp the implication of Yang Yi's statement. All four responded immediately, "We promise you!"

"Good!" Yang Yi curled his lips into a cold smile. Though the result differed slightly from his expectation, he could discern a degree of sincerity. "All of you, stand up!"

"Yes!" Miyamoto Sakurako and the others promptly rose.

It was evident that Yang Yi's last sentence held significant weight, as even the way they addressed him had shifted. Not just their titles, but their expressions and tone were now filled with profound respect. Put simply, before that crucial statement, Yang Yi was merely a collaborator; afterward, by implication, he had become their master. Thus, the effect of pushing them to the brink of death and then pulling them back was executed with striking precision.

Yang Yi took a deep drag from his cigarette, tossed the butt out the window, and announced, "Now, let's lay out a plan. I need a clearer picture of the forces Miyamoto Taro currently commands!"

And so, within that small office, the group slowly began to formulate their strategy.

Miyamoto Taro truly was cunning; he had monopolized not only the assassination networks of the Miyamoto family but was also steadily cornering their political influence, securing five percent of it in just a short span. It had to be admitted—the old man possessed enough capability to cause even Yang Yi concern.

However, just as they were here, deliberating countermeasures and plotting strategies, elsewhere, six youths suddenly materialized within a courtyard in a strange manner.

"Greetings, Lord!"

"Ah, you've arrived..." Miyamoto Taro smiled faintly. "Follow me."

"Yes!" The six youths responded in unison and followed Miyamoto Taro as he disappeared from view.

In the forest bordering a dirt road, several figures moved with uncanny agility, leaping through the trees. These were Miyamoto Taro and the six mysterious Chinese youths. They appeared to be rushing urgently towards some destination, finally halting before the entrance of a mountain cave.

"Tsk, tsk, the moment has finally arrived," Miyamoto Taro thought with a cold sneer, a chilling smile curling his lips. "You six remain here. No one enters without my express permission!"

"Yes!" the six youths replied expressionlessly.

Miyamoto Taro entered the cave, his face set in a grim, smiling mask. The cave had a bare opening overhead, through which a single shaft of light illuminated the center. Directly beneath this light was a figure with long, unkempt hair, bound fast by thick iron chains that seemed to fasten his hands and feet. His head hung low, giving the impression of a corpse.

Yet, as Miyamoto Taro stepped inside, the man suddenly caught a familiar scent. "Hooowl, hooowl, hooowl!" A bizarre sound, utterly unlike anything human.

"Haha, Big Brother, how have you been?" Miyamoto Taro burst into laughter upon seeing the man’s frenzy upon sensing his presence.

"Clink, clink!" The sound of the iron chains echoed clearly. The disheveled man suddenly lifted his head, his face contorted, his eyes savage, fixing Miyamoto Taro in an intense stare. Speaking seemed difficult for him, and after a long pause, he managed to utter a single word—"You... hooowl!"

"Haha, Big Brother! Don't be like this. The more you act this way, the happier your little brother becomes!" Miyamoto Taro narrowed his eyes, studying the middle-aged man before him.

Upon closer inspection, this middle-aged man was unequivocally Chinese. His tattered robe was of a style recognizable only in China—a Taoist garment.

"You... despicable... hooowl!"

"Hmm? You can still speak, it seems. But that's fine; it would be inconvenient if I only took away a mute mad dog that might cause chaos outside later," Miyamoto Taro remarked, clearly up to some scheme.

"You... you... what... what do you want?"

"What do I want?" Miyamoto Taro’s expression instantly turned cold. "It’s all your fault! It’s your fault for refusing to teach me the martial arts of your China back then! Otherwise, you wouldn't have fallen from the ranks of China’s Dragon List masters to this state today! Haha, the irony!"

"You... back then... you... hooowl!" The middle-aged man seemed to be stirred by a painful memory, a fierce killing intent radiating from him. His eyes slowly turned red. Had it not been for the iron chains restraining him, it seemed he would have instantly lunged at Miyamoto Taro, tearing out his heart and lungs to consume.

"What? You still want to kill me? Haha, impossible. While I admit my strength still doesn't surpass yours, look at your current state before attempting to kill me?" Miyamoto Taro spoke with heavy sarcasm.

He then fixed the Chinese man with a cold, genuine smile, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pill—darkened but large enough to span a finger. He held it up and declared, "From this day forward, you, Murong Liantian, are my subordinate! Haha, ha-ha-ha!"

"You... you... what are you going to do?" the Chinese man managed to stammer out half a sentence, his face contorted in fury.

"Do you know what this is? Hmm, you probably don't!" Miyamoto Taro flourished his hand before continuing, "This is a fine item! If you consume it, you will not only obey me, but you will also... hehe!"

"What is this?" the Chinese man's hoarse voice sounded, now seemingly regaining some clarity.

"This? Hmm, I'll tell you. This is derived from the secret alchemy manuals I’ve had people secretly steal from your China over the years. It’s a poison that can control people! Haha, how about that, impressive, isn't it?" Miyamoto Taro said with a dark glint in his eyes.

"You want to control me? In your dreams!" the Chinese man roared in outrage.

"Heh heh, Big Brother, how many years has it been? Ten years now? Seeing you like this pains my heart. Ah, since that's the case..." Before Miyamoto Taro finished speaking, he sharply turned and drove his fist brutally into the back of the Chinese man.

"Aaaah—!" The Chinese man cried out in agony, jerking his head up with his mouth wide open.

As if waiting for this exact moment, Miyamoto Taro immediately shoved the black pill into the Chinese man’s mouth. He took swift steps forward and delivered another punch, this time to the Chinese man's chest.

"Gulp!" The Chinese man swallowed the entire pill.

Miyamoto Taro clapped his hands, watching the Chinese man with a faint smile. Slowly, inch by inch, a change began to creep over the man's features.