The Art of Commanding Subordinates

It worked out in my favor?

Even if it was true, such charity-like words were profoundly unpleasant.

But with Aron added to the mix, Baimu suddenly had the illusion that lasting three minutes was no longer impossible.

Unfortunately.

"You're not even giving me a moment! To negotiate!"

Baimu desperately dodged Machamp's fists, then threw Aron far away.

Although the other side had given him no chance to negotiate, it was also clearly holding back. For example, out of its four fists, it had only used the lower two. It had also reduced the intensity of its attacks and refrained from using moves.

Was it wary of Aron?

Perhaps it was more accurate to call it Machamp's pity.

What was the point of this whole performance? Was it really just calling him over to beat him up? Impossible! No top executive could be that bored!

"Find an opening and ram its feet!"

Baimu shouted. He barely twisted away from a sweeping left hook, but failed to avoid the lightning-fast right hook that followed. It was so fast that it seemed to flash with light.

Bang!

"Ha!"

After an indescribably dull impact, searing pain surged from his lower abdomen into his mind. Baimu's back slammed heavily into the octagonal cage's iron mesh, and his body folded like a boiled shrimp. He nearly bit his tongue.

What a fast combination!

This guy's level was definitely not low!

Protect your chin!

He hastily raised both arms. Then his right shoulder felt a hot sensation and an immense force. The former quickly turned into piercing pain, the burning feeling much like torn muscle, and he fell to the ground.

Slap.

His body trembled a few times.

He had imagined things so beautifully—pulling off a comeback with a sliver of health, coordinating perfectly with Aron, even defeating Machamp with [Endeavor].

But when he truly faced it head-on, he had not even lasted half a minute. He had not even gotten the chance to signal.

Seeing Baimu knocked down, Aron hurriedly attacked Machamp. Who would have thought that the other Pokémon seemed to have eyes on the back of its head? Not only did it dodge easily, it also grabbed Aron by the head with one hand and lifted it up.

"Geh—"

Machamp casually blocked the mud Aron spat out with its other hand.

[Mud-Slap] to the face? You had to be able to hit first.

"Cough, cough... Put it down... I surrender."

Baimu struggled to prop himself up. His shaken internal organs and aching right arm made it difficult to speak.

Still, he forced himself to use his teeth to pull off his boxing glove. Under Machamp's puzzled gaze, he used his last bit of strength to quickly recall Aron into its Poké Ball.

After doing so, he shrank the Poké Ball and protected it in his arms. Curling up to shield his vital areas, he pounded the ring with his right hand.

That was the signal of surrender.

He chose to give up because he had seen the gap between them. Continuing would only mean taking a beating for nothing. Though he had some confidence in his physique, if his spleen ruptured, he could die on the spot.

Silence filled the area.

After receiving no response for a long time, Baimu heard the burly man's voice.

"Get up."

He slowly straightened up and saw the burly man crouching in front of him. He set down a water bottle and a towel before Baimu. They were less than a meter apart, while Machamp silently left the octagonal cage.

The burly man asked, "Anything you want to say?"

Baimu did not drink the water. He merely wiped the sweat brought on by pain from his face with the towel. "...No."

"The weak have no right to speak. What do you think of that saying?"

"The truth."

"You embarrassed Chester, hurt his subordinates, and interfered with his plans. The Crystal Group will definitely deal with you in the future. What do you plan to do?"

"...Resist."

"Ha, resist like you did today?"

"..."

"You're safe and sound right now because someone above thinks rather highly of you."

The burly man sat down carelessly, as though he had not just set Baimu up. With an ordinary expression, he said, "But that person's attention is limited. The day he forgets you will be the day you die."

"...Please show me a way forward."

Baimu endured the spasms in his abdominal muscles and tried his best to sound sincere.

"Next week, we have a Pokémon match against the Hound Team. If you win, you'll become a Squad Leader of the Sand Group, and I'll have your back from then on. If you lose, figure something out yourself. Any objections?"

The burly man's tone was extremely calm, but when his gaze swept over Baimu's body, it brought the terrifying pressure of being watched by an Ursaring.

Extremely dangerous!

An attack could come at any moment. Run!

Feeling his heart pound violently, Baimu took a deep breath. "No, Lord Cang Zhilang."

"Hmm?"

"...Boss."

"Mm. Go."

Under Cang Zhilang's utterly unceremonious dismissal, Baimu clutched his abdomen and left the boxing arena.

Machamp, which was replenishing its fluids, watched Baimu's departing back, then looked at Cang Zhilang in the octagonal cage, who seemed lost in thought. It sighed helplessly.

He had used that routine for so many years and still had not gotten tired of it.

Still, that kid really could dodge. It had been forced to add a little Bullet Punch into its attacks before it managed to hit him.

A talent.

Exactly the kind of talent they lacked most.

Outside the door.

Baimu had not gone far before he saw his guide.

"Yo, got beaten up?"

The guide did not seem surprised by Baimu's miserable state. Smiling, he said, "Who beat you? How many punches did you take?"

"...Machamp. Two punches."

"Your endurance isn't good enough. It needs improvement. You need to train that. Whether you're a lackey or a Trainer, how can you manage if you can't take a beating?"

The guide walked over to a vending machine by the roadside, bought two bottles of energy drink, and tossed one to him. "My treat."

"Thanks."

Baimu caught it, considered it for a moment, then opened it and drank.

The icy drink slid down his throat, and the pleasant sensation even eased the pain in his abdomen considerably.

"It might not be appropriate for me to say this," the guide suddenly said. "But since the boss was willing to see you, that means he actually thinks highly of you."

"Mm."

"Fighting you was also for your own good. It was to temper you, to keep you from getting impatient. Don't let down his expectations."

"I know."

"As long as you know... Feel free to look around. The Underground City has plenty of interesting places. I have something to do, so I'll be leaving first." The guide tossed his empty bottle onto the ground and hurried away.

Wait—

Baimu still remembered the matter of gathering intelligence, but the other man left incredibly quickly. He turned left and vanished from sight.

He could only remain where he was, staring blankly at the rough concrete floor.

Several hundred meters away.

The guide opened a door and slipped inside.

"How was it?"

Someone moved closer and asked.

The guide shook his head. "I don't know how to describe it either. In any case, that kid might be quite different from the ones we knew before."

"I just hope he doesn't hate the boss too much. The boss is the same every time—whenever he meets someone he likes, he uses this kind of method. It's like he's pushing them away."

That person sighed repeatedly.

"Hate him? Probably not. I think that kid's pretty smart," the guide said with a sigh.

There was nothing they could do with a boss who kept pulling such bizarre stunts.

But weren't lackeys like them there to help their boss with his worries?

Times were hard.

Bang.

The Poké Ball opened.

Aron landed on the ground, then anxiously rushed to Baimu's feet.

"Gu! Gu!"

"It's fine, it's fine. We're both fine. Don't panic."

He crouched down and continuously stroked its head and back, helping the little fellow relax.

Humans in the Pokémon world truly had extraordinary constitutions.

When he had taken those punches, he had felt like he was about to die. There were even bruises when he lifted his shirt. Yet now, he was completely fine. His arm was no longer sore or swollen, and his stomach felt comfortable too.

Seeing that he truly was unharmed, Aron finally calmed down and gave a soft cry while looking up at him.

"Gu?"

"Mm... You're asking why I got beaten up? It's simple. This is a way of controlling people—a workplace PUA tactic. They use words or violence to crush your self-esteem, then treat you a little more kindly and say things like they're only doing it for your own good..."

Baimu helplessly patted its head.

They beat you because they appreciate you, beat you until you were utterly miserable, then give you an opportunity. It was practically the same as a slap followed by a sweet date.

Aron looked somewhat indignant upon hearing that.

"Gu!"

"You're saying he's a bad guy? Mm, from what we've seen so far, he certainly is bad. But people can't be so simply defined."

Baimu shook his head. "He did use that method on us, but given his status, the fact that he was willing to spend time using tactics on nobodies like us was already a straightforward form of appreciation.

"Not to mention that he would most likely keep his word and protect us. So his workplace PUA was quite successful this time. The two of us got beaten up, yet we still had to remember his kindness."

Aron wore an expression of complete incomprehension.

It truly could not understand now.

"You don't need to understand too much. In short, in this place, the only ones we can trust completely are each other. Everyone else has one motive or another." Baimu did not explain further and pulled it into his arms.

Aron gently rubbed against him in return.

Cang Zhilang's methods were undoubtedly an overt scheme.

Even though Baimu had seen through what he was doing, he still had to acknowledge the man's position as boss.

But he was genuinely unhappy about it too.

Who wanted to get punched twice for no reason?

Unfortunately, the man's role was that of the top boss of a faction, the sort who fought from Tsim Sha Tsui to Causeway Bay in Hong Kong gangster films. How could he win people over through kindness alone?

Combining favor and intimidation was the only hard truth.

As for what Cang Zhilang had told him, Baimu admitted that he was used to judging a gentleman's heart by his own petty standards, so he reserved judgment on its truthfulness.

It might not be false, but it might not all be true either.

Sometimes, words that were nine parts truth and one part lie could still make someone lose their judgment.

A place like Pyrite Town had no soil for good people to grow in. It was not Pallet Town or Littleroot Town. Remaining vigilant at all times was the best guarantee of his own safety.

Did Chester, one of the top executives, truly want to kill him? Were those troublemakers on the surface also arranged by the Crystal Group?

What plan had he interfered with? Could someone like Shibata have been entrusted with an important task as well?

Someone above thought well of him. Who could the "higher-up" Cang Zhilang mentioned be? Those "big shots" behind the Quicksand Team?

Was that why Shigaki's attitude had changed from arrogant to respectful?

And there was the match next week.

The Quicksand Team and the Hound Team had always been hostile forces. Their grudge had basically begun over competition for the mines, then escalated with various events until they had become irreconcilable.

He had only obtained a Pokémon not long ago. His chances of winning were worrying.

"Crises everywhere."

Baimu held up Aron's chin. "I never expected that becoming an official member would bring more trouble than being a lackey."

At least when he had been a lackey, Shibata had been his only enemy.

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