Life in Yoshiwara was a tale of two extremes, especially in this era of great famine where countless ordinary people starved to death daily.
Meanwhile, wealthy families, with their demanding culinary requirements, burned massive amounts of firewood for a single meal. Naturally, the demand for loggers was immense.
The place where Gyutaro went to work this time was a logging camp located about four kilometers northwest of Yoshiwara.
Two days ago, the "Fujita Workshop" had posted a recruitment notice.
While the payment was calculated based on the amount of wood chopped—the specifics of which were not mentioned—there was an extremely appealing condition. During this job, the Fujita family guaranteed a daily lunch.
Although it consisted only of the simplest fare, this news still sent shockwaves through the slums of Yoshiwara.
Work at a workshop was notoriously heavy; everyone knew this. This was especially true for jobs that didn't specify how much firewood constituted a payment bracket; they likely wouldn't treat workers as human beings. With just a little thought, one would realize that the mountain work would probably be bone-breaking labor.
Among the poor, this kind of work was often referred to as "dead man's work," but here, being able to eat a full meal meant that even if you died, it was at least better than starving to death.
With Gyutaro's physical condition, there was a high probability he wouldn't survive in such a place, yet he had no other path to take.
Covered in scars, he was unwelcome wherever he went. When he went begging, people would maliciously spit into his food.
He had no room for other options. Exchanging this somewhat rotting life for a glimmer of hope to bring back grain was the only guarantee he and his sister had to survive in this mire.
Over the years, he had discovered that his talent for fighting was decent, but because he couldn't get enough to eat, he still appeared very weak when facing adults. Perhaps in a few more years, he could officially become a debt collector, but before that, he had to keep himself and his sister alive.
His thoughts raced. Looking around at the unfamiliar faces gradually multiplying, the sense of unease in his heart grew progressively denser.
To exchange for a bit more food, he was basically the last to leave every time. Normally at this hour, almost all his coworkers would already be resting; it was completely impossible for them to appear here.
Furthermore, these faces were all strangers; not a single one was anyone he knew. His body subconsciously tensed up. He lowered the wood he was carrying and stared intently at the surrounding men.
"You guys..."
A voice made dry by a long-term lack of water called out, but before Gyutaro could utter a complete sentence, those men had already launched an attack against him.
A sharp, slicing sound of breaking air came from behind, and Gyutaro felt his body subconsciously go cold!
He trusted his intuition, so relying almost entirely on instinct, he rolled forward!
Bam!
At the very moment Gyutaro's body rolled forward, a heavy wooden plank brushed past his scalp, smashing directly into the spot where he had just stood, kicking up a patch of dust filled with wood chips.
Meanwhile, Gyutaro wretchedly rolled half a turn on the ground. Then, before he could get up, the wooden club came at his head again in succession.
Gyutaro threw all the firewood on his back at once, delaying the other's attack, while those eyes, deep-set due to hunger, also locked tightly onto the opponent.
Looking at the fiend-like Gyutaro before him, the attacking man's expression darkened. He said nothing but just blew a whistle. Accompanying this whistle, another five or six men emerged from the surrounding woods.
These men were not tall, and some even looked sallow and emaciated, but the eyes of each were vicious. They stared at Gyutaro without saying a word, just silently closing in on him.
Gyutaro swept a quick gaze across the five or six surrounding figures, seeing them holding weapons like hatchets and sharpened bamboo poles as they closed in on him without a word.
"Who sent you here to kill me?!"
Gyutaro's voice was hoarse, like dry, dead tree branches rubbing together.
Was it the workshop foreman wanting to cheat him out of his wages?
No, impossible. He had stated at the beginning that he could be paid less as long as they gave him more food. The price of hiring these men was definitely more expensive than one or two meals, so it wasn't the people from the workshop.
Was it someone he had offended in Yoshiwara? After all, he strove with the goal of becoming a debt collector, and he had helped collect debts during this period, so it wasn't surprising to be held in resentment.
However, no one answered Gyutaro's question.
Only a bamboo spear thrust from not far away pulled Gyutaro directly back to reality.
Looking at the bamboo spear thrusting toward his heart, Gyutaro's pupils constricted. His body once again exploded with an agility incongruous with his emaciated build. As he side-stepped to dodge, his right hand violently grabbed the center of the oncoming spear.
His light, somewhat deformed body actually hung directly from the bamboo spear. In the next moment, he scattered the dust and wood chips in his hand, which landed precisely on the eyes of the man holding the spear.
The man closed his eyes subconsciously, and what followed was an intense pain in his neck.
When Gyutaro rolled earlier, he had already snapped off the wooden handle of the axe he usually used for chopping trees. Only in this way could he hide it in his sleeve cuff and then deliver a fatal blow to the opponent.
Hot blood splattered onto Gyutaro's face. He looked at the man before him, his expression one of almost demonic ferocity.
Meanwhile, that man was clutching his own neck, trying to reduce the bleeding by doing so, but it was all in vain.
The moment the carotid artery was severed, his life had entered its final countdown.
Seemingly realizing that his death was imminent, a look of frenzy appeared on the man's face. He stared fixedly at Gyutaro and shrieked with all his might:
"Brat! I'll be waiting for you in hell! And your sister, right now, is probably already tied to a bed, isn't she? What a pity I didn't get to play..."
Before the man could finish speaking, his throat was directly ripped out by Gyutaro.
At this moment, Gyutaro was like a fiend climbing up from hell. He ripped at the man's throat, his fingers continuously digging deep inside, seeming to want to use this method to crush the man's spine.
"What did you say happened to my sister?!"
At the same time, Izumi Kiyokazu was panting heavily, holding the lead man's left leg, but he could only watch the opponent flee.
His stamina had reached its limit; he simply did not have the ability to continue the pursuit.
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