Whose Fault?

Rice Bowls

Great Demon Li really couldn't keep his hands to himself.

The whole room fell silent.

The slap hadn't been particularly hard, but it sent Yamamoto Takeo staggering sharply to one side, and half his face quickly swelled up alarmingly.

Compared to Konno Kaiming, who had been slapped to the ground not long ago, he'd gotten off lightly.

"Hey, Takeo, you should wash your face. Look how greasy it is. Someone, someone get me a tissue. Thanks a lot."

Li Bai flicked his hand with a look of disgust. The greasy middle-aged man in front of him was exactly the sort he meant.

"Baka!"

Yamamoto Takeo was still seeing stars from the slap and hadn't yet had a chance to fly into a rage when his colleagues on the investigation team grabbed him and pulled him back.

A full-blown brawl at the scene would hardly suit the purpose of this operation.

Li Bai soon got his wish. Not only did he get a tissue, but he was also given an extra pair of handcuffs. They were just ordinary brushed silver, though—not the limited-edition rose gold, and they didn't come with an autograph.

Unhappy!

Everyone else was quite polite, respectfully escorting Li Bai into an armored van. SAT tactical officers armed with live ammunition sat on either side of him, keeping him under close watch.

As for Yamamoto Takeo, who had taken a slap for nothing, he sat in another police car, clutching the half-pig's-head-sized swelling on his face and struggling to get a word out.

These police officers had come specifically for Li Bai. True to their word, they didn't make trouble for anyone else. They took him into custody and immediately headed back to Kobe City without stopping.

After all, that was where the incident had happened, making