Chapter 34: Bird in a Cage
There's a saying in Gotham's underworld: "Even the Kingpin kneels to power he can't corrupt." At this moment, Jin Bin's surrender was not a product of sincere remorse or genuine repentance it was the fearful submission of a predator brought low by something more dangerous.
It wasn't the kind of mental domination seen under the telepathic control of Professor X or the illusionary mastery of Mysterio. No, this wasn't a spell cast to alter perception it was the raw pressure of superiority, the kind that made men like Lex Luthor pause before Superman, or Wilson Fisk hesitate when faced with Daredevil's unbreakable will.
This wasn't control through illusion. This was the instinctual submission of the weak to the undeniably strong.
Ryan Wong knew that. He knew illusions were temporary. He had studied both Zatanna's incantation frameworks and the psychic modulation techniques found in the Xavier Institute's restricted archives. He had walked through the ruins of the Shadow Initiative's failed psychic programs and knew better than anyone true loyalty forged through fear must be branded into the soul.
So Ryan didn't trust Jin Bin's apparent defeat. He left a fail-safe.
He stared coldly at the kneeling Jin Bin, who didn't dare lift his gaze, and commanded with quiet authority, "Raise your head. Don't resist."
Jin Bin's blood ran cold. As he looked up, he saw the masked figure before him forming a sequence of hand signs that no ordinary ninja or magician would recognize. These were not jutsu. These were derived from a synthesis ancient glyphs adapted from the Book of Eternity, cross-encoded with Wakandan neural sigils and interwoven with the arcane scripting of Kamar-Taj.
Smack!
Ryan's palm struck Jin Bin's forehead.
There was no pain. Only pressure. Then came the explosion of ethereal energy dark, radiant chakra-like force, though alien in nature wrapping around Jin Bin like sentient ink. Black seals emerged across his skin like the markings of Darkseid's Omega Sanction or the rune-binding of Mephisto's contract sigils.
The curse marks glowed. The script was twisted and foreign, a hybrid of Kryptonian tech runes and ancient Mandarin talismans. Even Jin Qi, who had studied under cultic masters in Madripoor and trained in the mystic arts of Kun-Lun, couldn't recognize a single glyph.
Ryan ignored his stunned expression. His hands moved with calculated grace, completing the sealing technique. The marks converged upon Jin Bin's forehead, forming a single, eye-shaped glyph pulsing faintly like the Eye of Agamotto when dormant.
Ryan finally spoke:
"This technique is called Bird in a Cage."
His voice was calm, precise.
"Under normal conditions, it won't harm you. In fact, it might enhance your chakra pathways, increasing energy flow during cultivation. But the moment you defy my will" he leaned in, the glow in his eyes flaring briefly like a Phoenix echo, "you'll wish you were dead."
He stepped back and added:
"This seal is your insurance and my mark. Jin Bin… you understand what you must do now, don't you?"
After the Crisis on Infinite Earths, the Multiverse had bled ideas into each other. Ryan had once encountered an old scroll said to have survived from Earth-3's inverted K'un-Zhi and from that, he deciphered the theory behind the seal.
Obito Uchiha, saved and mentored by the ancient and half-insane Madara Uchiha, had used similar binding techniques to suppress even the tailed beasts, a method rivaling the Omega Lock protocols of Apokolips. Ryan had once decoded these patterns alongside Blue Beetle's tech, comparing their neurological overlays.
The original Bird in a Cage technique was a cruel Hyuga clan ritual, designed to protect their Byakugan bloodline from being exploited. It destroyed the eyes of a branch member upon death, a legacy of fear-based control. Brutal. Elegant.
Ryan had modified it.
His version didn't target the eyes. He didn't need to. He aimed for the brain the soul's throne.
Jin Bin was the test subject. Ryan had built this seal using pieces of LexCorp's failed AI compliance systems and restructured them with a hint of Enchantress's soul-binding sigils.
And somehow it worked.
Once someone attempts to tamper with Jin Bin's mind, his neural cortex will automatically ignite a fatal self-defense trigger.
Alternatively, Russell can activate the Bird in the Cage seal manually, causing searing pain and targeted brain degradation. This, too, is a failsafe application one rooted in telepathic kill-switch techniques modeled after Charles Xavier's classified mental locks and the neural tripwires developed in Bruce Wayne's contingency protocols.
The reason Russell chose such a meticulous method rather than relying entirely on illusion-based domination like the kind used by the Scarlet Witch or Doctor Fate—is because of one core limitation: even advanced telepaths like Jean Grey or Raven struggle to maintain simultaneous control over more than a few complex minds at once.
For those like Jin Bin, who may appear submissive but harbor long-term ambitions, Bird in the Cage is more secure.
As expected, after Russell explained the seal's function, Jin Bin's expression shifted into one of awe and dread. His surrender deepened, "My lord… your will is my command. I will fight with everything I have for you."
Feeling the cursed imprint pulsing on his forehead like a psychic parasite clinging to his frontal lobe Jin Bin didn't dare entertain rebellion.
At the same time, he sighed inwardly. So, in the end, even he had bowed to the power of this masked man. But Russell's overwhelming strength justified it. This wasn't surrender to mediocrity it was allegiance to supremacy.
"Excellent," Russell nodded with a faint smile. "No need to call me 'master.' Just address me as 'sir.'"
"From today forward, you are a peripheral agent of Akatsuki."
"Akatsuki…?" Jin Bin echoed, visibly confused.
Russell's eyes gleamed behind his mask. "Before dawn comes darkness. And the deepest black heralds the rise of the light. Akatsuki means dawn. We are the dawn that breaks the old world. We bring balance peace through calculated chaos."
His voice carried conviction. While the words echoed the ideology of Nagato and Yahiko from the Naruto universe, they also held parallels to Ra's al Ghul's League of Shadows and Magneto's Brotherhood radical entities that genuinely believed they were curing the world of its sickness.
Russell meant what he said. He had always admired Akatsuki's early philosophy global equilibrium through elite force. It was only after Yahiko's death and Obito's manipulation that the group decayed into madness. But here, in this world, Russell was resurrecting Akatsuki with its original idealism uncontaminated.
Jin Bin blinked in thought. That word peace rattled something inside him.
Once upon a time, before being crushed by the weight of survival, he had dreamed of justice too. That dream had died somewhere between gang initiations and bloodied paydays.
But now? This organization… maybe it wasn't just another criminal empire. Maybe Akatsuki was something different.
Then again, the seal burning on his forehead reminded him this wasn't a charity either.
No… no way this group is a legitimate movement, Jin Bin thought, regaining his cynicism. What kind of "light-bringing organization" installs brain bombs?
Russell's next move only confirmed his suspicions.
He ordered Jin Bin to bring out the vault cash hard currency stashed away for underworld operations. Though reluctant, Jin Bin obeyed.
Soon, stacks of U.S. dollars federal notes in pristine bands—were heaped on the table. Easily over five to six million in untraceable bills.
"This money belongs to me now," Russell stated coolly.
Jin Bin didn't argue. He simply nodded.
Russell's mind drifted into his internal interface his system space where he monitored progress markers for his ongoing persona embodiment: [Uchiha Obito Roleplay Progress: 12%].
It had risen by 2%. Small, but notable. It proved Russell's strategy was working.
Being a ninja wasn't just about assassinations and infiltration. It was about living the mask—thinking like Obito, commanding with fear, manipulating reality and ideology alike. Playing the role, perfectly, until belief turned into power.
Satisfied, Russell turned his attention to the system store. In the lower-right corner of the interface, the currency total blinked:
[¥615 million yuan]
—