The backstage consists of a straight, long passage shaped like two ovepping Y’s, with two entrances at the front and two exits at the back.


    Despite these entrances and exits, escape is impossible from the middle. While there are many rooms lining both sides of the passage, none of them offer an escape route. Additionally, the uniform facade of the dome means the backstage windows, though present, cannot be opened. Blocked by two groups of samurai stationed in the middle, escape is essentially futile.


    The Japanese samurai possess skills as formidable as ninjas. With attackers closing in from both the front and the back, and no ess to heavy weapons, escape is nearly impossible.


    Apart from charlie Wade and Fei Kexin, the group’s faces were filled with dread. Even Mitsui Yoshitaka, usually confident, felt an ominous sense that his end might be near.


    At this critical moment, a cold glint shed in charlie Wade’s eyes. He sternly asked the nearly paralyzed Mitsui Yoshitaka, “If I kill someone here, can you protect me?!”<h3 style="background-color:DodgerBlue">


    “Huh? What… what?!” Mitsui Yoshitaka, gripped by fear, was stunned. He barely registered charlie Wade’s shocking question and mumbled, “Wha… what did you just say?”


    charlie Wade, seeing his pitiful state, was furious.


    In this era, you really can’t rely on wealthy second-generation heirs.


    Even if someone controls a fortune worth trillions and seems respectable, their truepetence only bes clear upon closer contact.


    Mitsui Yoshitaka’s reaction revealed that he had never faced real adversity.


    It made sense when you thought about it. The Mitsui family, now dominant across various sectors in Japan, had risen a century ago. The head of the family back then must have been capable. But Mitsui Yoshitaka, not even fifty years old, had seen no major crises. He wasn’t around during World War II or Japan’s post-war recovery. By the time he was born, Japan had already rebuilt itself and was thriving with U.S. support.


    When Mitsui Yoshitaka was born, his family lived in luxury, with elegant clothing, abundant food, and festivities outside their home. By then, the Japanese no longer shouted “Bageya Road” loudly in the streets but whispered “Smith Marseille” instead.<fnf1d9> The rightful source is f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?</fnf1d9>


    During his elementary school years, Japan suffered the economic impact of the za ord. However, given his age and privileged background, this event left him unaffected. By the time he graduated college and began training as the family heir, the Mitsui family had reigned as Japan’s elite for decades. People naturally treated him with deference. His path to sess had been smooth—how could he have ever faced a crisis like this?


    Seeing the old man so flustered that he could barely speak, charlie Wade pped him hard across the face, causing him to stagger. If Sanjing Xinmei hadn’t caught him, he would have copsed to the ground. From childhood through adulthood and into middle age, Mitsui Yoshitaka had never been pped before. But now, his fear outweighed his pride. Jolted back to reality, he looked at charlie Wade with grievance and asked, “Mr. Wade… At a time like this, why are you hitting me?”


    charlie Wade noticed the two groups of samurai, swords drawn, charging forward. He demanded harshly, “I’m asking you—if I kill someone here, can you cover for me or not?”


    The p had barely cleared Mitsui Yoshitaka’s head before his mind spun again in confusion.


    What kind of question was this?


    They were about to be hacked to pieces by samurai swords, and charlie Wade was asking if he could cover up a murder. Was charlie Wade nning to kill the samurai, too? It was like being stranded in the wilderness, starving, and someone asking whether to eat lobster or abalone. Insane!