“This way, Elder Chang.”0

A hint of anxiety floated up on Akinori’s face as he guided Chang Min to their destination.0

Chang Min heard the interpreter and briefly nodded, then followed the Japanese. The sound of footsteps behind him only worsened Akinori’s anxiety level, however.0

‘Will this work out, though?’0

If he was being honest, Akinori was doubtful of Chang Min’s suitability. The way the old man had acted in Kang Jin-Ho’s presence had convinced the Japanese that this Elder of the demon cult was… Basically a dotard!0

‘First of all, his attire is…’0

Chang Min’s choice of wardrobe wasn’t what a martial artist would usually go for. To start off, he was wearing a stylish gray suit that gave off a slightly ‘vibrant’ impression. Two top buttons of his white dress shirt were left undone, and he wasn’t wearing a tie, either. And then…0

‘What was that piece of cloth called?’0

Akinori couldn’t immediately recall the word ‘handkerchief’, but even then, his attention was still drawn to the piece of red fabric sticking out of the breast pocket of Chang Min’s jacket.1

Chang Min’s snow-white hair was trimmed in the distinctive undercut style and neatly slicked back with pomade.0

‘Is he… actually an Italian gangster?’0

Based on the attire alone, it was difficult to believe that Chang Min was an Asian. In fact, no one would believe that this old man was the Elder of the demon cult and a director of the Martial Assembly. Because he looked more like an aging...0