Strongest Maniac: Born in an Asylum

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The scarred man's name was Spike. He was a ruthless man. When he was young, he had followed a big boss, always thinking about how to get ahead. In a life-or-death struggle, he had taken a knife for his boss, thinking he would win his favor and rise through the ranks. But that night, the boss had won the territory, and during the victory celebration, he had died of alcohol poisoning on the way to the hospital.

And he had still been in the hospital.

The knife wound on his face and the injuries on his body had kept him there for two days. He had thought the boss would settle the bill and even come to visit him. But because the boss had died of alcohol poisoning, he had to pay his own medical bills. When he was discharged, he had gone to the boss's funeral and even given 500 in condolence money.

A loss! A loss! A huge loss!

From that day on, he knew that following a big boss was a dead end. Only by working alone could he get ahead.

"Brother Spike, what do we do?" the younger brother asked nervously.

Spike would not allow anyone to ruin his plan. The person before them had to be dealt with. If he reported them, all their efforts would be for naught.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at Leo. In an instant, he drew his gun and aimed it at him.

BANG!

He fired without hesitation. He wasn't one to kill indiscriminately, but in this situation, shooting was the most sensible thing to do.

The gunshot was muffled by the sound of the boat horns and the rushing river.

White smoke rose from the muzzle. A single bullet had been sent to the other party. Logically, a beautiful flower of blood should have bloomed on his chest, and he should have fallen to the ground in a daze, unwilling to die.

Leo looked down and saw a hole in his clothes. "Why did you ruin my clothes?" he asked, frowning.

Spike was stunned, his eyes wide. Impossible! How could this be?

He looked at his gun. A thought popped into his head: Did that bastard sell me a fake gun?

He fired at Leo again and again, the sound of the gunshots echoing in his ears. The other party should have fallen, but he was still standing there, completely unharmed.

"You're so rude," Leo said.

The younger brother tugged at Spike's sleeve. "Big brother," he said nervously, "is he even human? I saw on the news that a lot of malevolent entities have infiltrated Seaside City. No one should be here, and he..."

Spike's face changed. A flash of lightning went through his mind. His face turned pale. He, a man who had lived on the edge, licking blood from the blade of a knife, was a little flustered.

"Let's go. We're retreating."

In an instant, the two of them jumped into the driver's and passenger's seats of the van, started the engine, stepped on the gas, and sped away, disappearing with a sharp turn.

Leo walked over to the rich man's son and crouched down, looking at him curiously. "Do you need help?" he asked calmly, a smile on his face.

Mmph! Mmph!

The rich man's son struggled, his eyes darting back and forth, as if to say, Can't you see I can't talk? My hands and feet are tied. Can you please untie me?

"Leo, why is it so noisy?"

Walter opened his eyes groggily, confused. He had just heard a popping sound that had woken him from his sleep.

"He needs help," Leo said.

Then the two of them crouched in front of the rich man's son.

Leo helped him untie the ropes and tear the tape off his mouth.

"Hiss!"

When the tape was torn off, the rich man's son rubbed the corners of his mouth. It hurt.

He was just a child, maybe seven or eight years old. He was wearing a black uniform, his hair slicked back with a generous amount of gel. He was clearly the child of a wealthy family.

"Thank you for saving me. My name is Richie Bao. I'm very rich, and I'm very generous. I'll repay you."

Richie Bao found the experience of being kidnapped quite exciting. He wasn't scared at all. The feeling of not having bodyguards around was so refreshing. Normally, a whole group of them followed him wherever he went. They even took over the school gate.

He didn't want his family to know he was safe just yet. He was ready to have some fun outside.

"I'll take you somewhere to play. Do you want to go?" Richie Bao asked.

Leo didn't really want to go. He remembered the way home and wanted to go back. He just had to cross that bridge. He longed for the feeling of being home.

"Okay, okay," Walter said, curious about the unknown fun place. He really wanted to go.

"Leo, let's go play."

He tugged at Leo's arm, pleading. Even though Leo didn't say anything, he knew what he was thinking.

"Mmm... okay," Leo said after a moment's thought. Since Walter wanted to go, how could he refuse? But he really wanted to go home.

In the city center.

Arcade.

Walter and Richie Bao sat at a "King of Fighters '97" arcade machine, their faces flushed. The buttons were being mashed with a clatter. On the screen, two characters punched and kicked, fighting each other.

But for Walter, who was playing for the first time, he was no match for Richie Bao.

'KO!'

"See? I'm a master," Richie Bao said smugly. "You didn't even scratch me, and I beat you."

Walter hung his head, looking pitifully at Leo. "Avenge me."

"Okay," Leo said.

Because they were making a bit of a scene, the arcade owner was attracted over. "You two adults, and this kid, can you be a little gentler?" he said unhappily. "This machine is very expensive. Can you afford to pay for it if you break it?"

He had noticed this group earlier. The kid was dressed to the nines, but the two adults were a different story. What kind of clothes were they wearing? And they had ID tags hanging around their necks.

Green Mountain Asylum? What a joke! They're clearly insane.

Richie Bao took a bank card from his pocket and tossed it onto the machine next to him. "The PIN is six eights. Swipe 100,000 dollars for yourself. And don't bother me."

At such a young age, he had already reached the realm of treating money like dirt. What a prodigy.

The owner looked at the bank card, frowned, but said nothing more and took the card away.

Leo and Richie Bao sat down side-by-side and began to choose their characters.

"My character is very strong," Richie Bao said smugly. "I'll KO you with a single combo. Just you watch."

Arcade games were a distant concept to Leo. He had never played one before. But Walter wanted him to get revenge, and he had to do it. So he had to win.

The game began. Leo slowly pressed the buttons, but he was no match for Richie Bao. He was KO'd instantly.

One round!

Two rounds!

...

Until the owner came back with meticulously prepared Cokes, a fawning smile on his face.

"Here are some drinks for you, bosses."

"Here's your card."

Even his form of address had changed. He was very practical. He was shocked. Whose kid was this? He was so generous! 100,000! How many games would he have to sell to make that much money?

A god of wealth! He had to treat them well.

"Leave it there. Don't bother us. Go away," Richie Bao said impatiently. He was having a great time, crushing the newbie.

The owner bowed and scraped, nodding repeatedly, then happily returned to the counter, looking at the balance on his phone, feeling wonderful.

The tenth round!

KO!

Richie Bao opened his mouth, about to laugh, but the scene before him made him swallow his laughter. He didn't dare say a word.

BAM!

Leo stood up and punched through the arcade machine's screen, revealing the wires inside.

He had lost too badly. He wasn't angry, but he wanted to ask the character in the game, Why do you keep losing?

"Sorry, I got a little carried away," Leo said, pulling his hand back and apologizing.

Richie Bao stared at the screen, then slowly turned to look at Leo.

"Are you a sore loser?"