Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

He was a young man in a black trench coat, his steps steady, a katana in his hand. The scabbard was dark black, with dark red lacquered patterns that gleamed faintly in the lamplight. The man had a sharply defined face, a lingering weariness between his brows, but his eyes were so sharp they seemed capable of slicing through the darkness.

“Sakurai Akira,” the man began, his voice low, “twenty-three years old, formerly a school worker at the Kobe Yamanaka Church School. He was placed under surveillance due to his unstable bloodline. Fifteen days ago, he murdered female teacher Nami and fled. During his escape, he murdered a total of sixteen women, using cruel methods and drinking their blood.”

With each sentence he spoke, he took a step forward. The air in the carriage seemed to grow heavy with each step he took.

"According to Articles 7, 13, and 21 of the Mixed-Race Society Management Law, and Article 9 of the Dangerous Bloodline Disposal Ordinance," the man stopped five meters away from Sakurai Akira, slightly raising the scabbard, "I, Genjiro, Director of the Japanese Branch Executive Bureau, in my capacity as a law enforcement officer, sentence you to death. Execute immediately."

Akira Sakurai smiled. His smile was complex, containing relief, mockery, and an inexplicable sadness.

"Genjiro, Amaterasu no Mikoto. The most noble being in our clan, actually came personally to hunt down trash like me." He slowly stood up, his bones making a faint cracking sound. "Should I feel honored?"

Genjiro did not answer. He simply looked at Sakurai Akira in silence.

“You know what,” Sakurai Akira said, pulling the medicine box from his pocket. There was only one vial left, a nearly blackish purple, “the man who gave me this medicine said that using it would either make you a god or a demon. Now it seems I can’t become a god.”

He pulled out the needle and, without hesitation, plunged it into the vein on the side of his neck.

The world changed the moment the liquid was injected.

At first, it was a burning sensation, like someone pouring magma into his veins. Then the pain spread, not just physical pain, but an excruciating agony where every cell screamed, reorganized, collapsed, and regenerated. Sakurai Akira collapsed to his knees, his hands gripping the edge of the chair so tightly that the metal twisted and deformed under his fingers.

The skin began to change color, from pale to bluish-gray, then took on a metallic sheen. The bones beneath the skin made a sickeningly loud sound as they grew; the shoulder blades rose, and the vertebrae protruded one by one, as if something was about to break free from its cocoon. The pupils of the eyes narrowed to slits, and the irises took on a murky golden hue.

Half-dead, a pitiful state between humans and dragon subspecies. Retaining human consciousness, yet possessing a monstrous body. It is evolution, and also degeneration.

"Ahhhh!"

Sakurai Akira's roar no longer sounded like a human voice; it was more like the howl of a wild beast. He abruptly raised his head and looked at Genjiro. With his senses enhanced by the potion, he could see more. Genjiro was radiating a faint light, the oppressive aura brought by his stable and powerful bloodline.

Amaterasu no Michi, a destiny as radiant as the sun, is truly fitting.

He was nothing more than a moth drawn to a flame.

“Come on,” Sakurai Akira’s voice was hoarse. He propped himself up, got on all fours, and assumed an attacking stance like a real wild beast. “Let me see just how strong Amaterasu is!”

Without warning, without a running start, Sakurai Akira simply compressed his body to its limit and then launched himself forward like a spring. His speed was so great that he left afterimages in the air. His five fingers had transformed into sharp bone claws, tearing through the air as he aimed straight for Genji's throat.

Genjiro didn't even draw his sword.

He simply sidestepped, perfectly avoiding the attack, while simultaneously striking Sakurai Akira's wrist with his left palm. The seemingly casual strike sent a shiver down Sakurai Akira's entire arm.

“Too slow,” said Genjiro.

Sakurai Akira roared, his other hand sweeping out. The bone claws left five deep gashes on the carriage wall, tearing metal and plastic apart like paper. He completely abandoned human fighting methods, launching his attack in the most primal and ferocious manner: pouncing, scratching, biting, and ramming. Each attack was accompanied by the sound of wind, each movement too fast to see.

But Genjiro was like a rock in a storm. He merely moved, turned, and parried within a limited space. Occasionally, he would strike, but only briefly before retreating. There was no unnecessary movement; every dodge was precise to the millimeter, and every counterattack struck Sakurai Akira's most vulnerable spot.

Three minutes passed, and Sakurai Akira hadn't even touched the hem of Genji's clothes.

Sweat poured from Sakurai Akira's body. He could feel the drug's effects waning after their peak; his Deadpool-like body, though powerful, was rapidly draining his life force. He couldn't afford to keep going like this.

He took a deep breath, his leg muscles bulged, and he pushed off with all his might. This time, instead of attacking in a straight line, he climbed onto the roof of the carriage like a gecko and then swooped down from above. At the same time, he emitted a high-pitched shriek; the drug had granted him a speech-like ability that could disrupt his opponent's nerves and sense of balance.

The sound waves echoed in the enclosed carriage, and cracks began to appear in the glass windows.

Genjiro finally made a move; he drew his sword.

Chapter 341 Moths to a Flame

The moment the sword was drawn, the temperature in the carriage seemed to drop several degrees. The sword was named Spider Cutter, a legendary blade capable of slaying demons.

Genji held the sword in a peculiar way; instead of using both hands, he held it with his right hand while his left hand hung naturally at his side. He looked up at Sakurai Akira, who was lunging at him from above, his eyes calm.

Then, he swung his knife.

It wasn't a slash, nor a thrust. It was more like drawing an arc in the air.

Sakurai Akira felt a blur before his eyes and instinctively tried to change direction, but it was too late. He felt a chill on his chest, followed by excruciating pain. Looking down, he saw a deep, bone-revealing wound on his chest, stretching from his right shoulder to his left abdomen. Strangely, there was no bleeding; the muscle tissue at the wound's edges had been instantly burned and solidified.

"Words of Power: Royal Authority," Genji said calmly.

Akira Sakurai fell to the ground, struggling to get up, but found his body incredibly heavy. The surrounding air seemed to have turned into liquid, or as if an invisible gravitational field was pressing down on him.

Is this Amaterasu's Word of Power? The ability to manipulate gravity?

Sakurai Akira gritted his teeth, forcibly activating the remaining power within his body. His Deadpool-like body began to repair itself, the muscles at the wounds visibly writhing and healing. But with each step of healing, his consciousness grew increasingly blurred. The potion was burning his life force in exchange for temporary immortality.

“It’s no use,” Genji walked up to him, looking down at him. “You’ve reached your limit.”

"The limit?" Sakurai Akira laughed, black blood spilling from his mouth. "My limit is still a long way off!"

He suddenly reached out and grabbed Genjiro's ankle, while his other hand stabbed at the man's abdomen. This was a suicidal move, a complete abandonment of defense.

Genji frowned slightly, twisted his wrist, and slashed downwards with the Spider Cutter.

The blade severed Sakurai Akira's arm.

The severed arm flew off and landed in the corridor, its fingers still twitching reflexively. Sakurai Akira stared at his severed arm for a second, then burst into maniacal laughter.

"Haha, hahaha, that's it? That's it?!"

He stopped trying to stand up and instead used his remaining hand to support himself, inching backward. The blood was no longer bright red, but a dark red, almost black, gushing from the cut and leaving a gruesome trail on the floor.

Genjiro did not pursue. He stood there, watching his dying prey's final struggle, a flicker of emotion finally appearing in his eyes. It was a look of sorrow, or perhaps weariness.

"why?"

Akira Sakurai stopped what he was doing, leaning against the carriage wall, panting: "What? Why?"

"Why do this?" Genji asked. "You clearly had the opportunity to live a comfortable life at the church school until you were forty, and then gain your freedom. Why choose this path?"

Akira Sakurai fell silent. He looked up at the ceiling of the carriage, the light stinging his eyes. No, it wasn't the light. His vision was deteriorating rapidly; dark spots were beginning to appear at the edges of his field of vision.

Another side effect of the drug: optic nerve necrosis.

“Because I don’t want to end my life like this,” he said softly. “Someone like you, who was born to stand in the light, would never understand. Being locked in a cage, looking at the same sky every day, waiting for freedom that may never come—that kind of life is worse than death.”

"You know, when I was little, I named the clouds in the sky. But the clouds would drift away, so having names was useless. Later, I stopped naming them because I knew they couldn't be kept."

Genji tightened his grip on the knife.

“That girl,” he said, “you could have killed her. Why didn’t you?”

Akira Sakurai smiled. This time, there was no mockery in his smile, only a gentle bitterness.

“Xiaoyuan, she’s so stupid. So stupid that I feel killing her would be like crushing a flower.” He closed his eyes, his voice growing softer. “She said her cat was a mountain spirit. Tell me, do spirits really exist?”

no answer.

Akira Sakurai didn't need an answer. His world was darkening, not the darkness of nightfall, but a complete darkness that was collapsing from within. He reached out, groping in the void.

“Genjiro, Amaterasu no Mikoto,” he murmured. “May I touch the light?”

He could no longer see, completely blind. But he could sense a warm presence ahead, radiating light and heat like the sun. It was the pressure of Yuan Zhisheng's bloodline; for him, about to fall completely into darkness, this was the last light he could perceive.

Like a moth drawn to a flame.

Genjiro stared at the blood-stained hand reaching out to him, remaining silent for a long time. Then, he reached out and grasped Sakurai Akira's hand.

It feels cold to the touch, and the skin has begun to keratinize, like reptile scales.

Akira Sakurai's fingers twitched slightly, and a small smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

"So this is what warmth feels like."

As soon as he finished speaking, his hand fell to his sides.

Genji released his grip, looking at Sakurai Akira's corpse—if it could even be called a corpse anymore. The Deadpool-like features were fading, his skin returning to a pale color, and his mutated bones shrinking back into his body. Once the effects of the drug had completely worn off, he looked like an ordinary, thin young man, except for a fatal knife wound in his chest and the loss of an arm.

Genji sheathed his sword and turned to walk towards the carriage door.

The door slid open, and three people were standing outside.

Crow and Yaksha leaned against either side of the aisle, one playing with a lighter, the other eating a lollipop. In the middle, Madoka, dressed in a high school uniform, deftly took off her jacket, revealing a close-fitting black tactical suit underneath, with a short knife and a pistol tucked into her belt.

"Young Master," the crow said with a grin, "Is it resolved? I thought we were going to play role-playing games a little longer."

"That Sakurai Akira is a bit stronger than I expected," Yasha said, crumbling his lollipop. "But he only lasted ten minutes. Young Master is still amazing."

Genji ignored their compliments and nodded to Madoka, whom he should now call Sakura: "You did a great job. Did it arouse any suspicion?"

Sakura shook her head, her voice no longer childish, but clear and capable: "No. He thought I was just an ordinary high school student until the very end. He asked me to buy lunch to get rid of me."

“Ridiculous,” the crow clicked its tongue, “They’re about to die, and they’re still worried about harming innocent girls.”

Genjiro's gaze swept over Sakurai Akira's corpse. "We're in the same boat."

He walked to another carriage, with Crow and Yaksha quickly following. Sakura took one last look at the scene inside the carriage, then closed the door expressionlessly.

"Find someone to clean it up," Yuan Zhisheng said as he walked, "Make sure it's clean and leaves no trace."

"Understood!" the crow replied. "Speaking of which, young master, now that this mission is over, can we rest for a few days? I heard a new restaurant opened in Shibuya—"

His words were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

Yuan Zhisheng took out his phone; the screen lit up, displaying an encrypted message. He opened it, quickly browsed it, and his brows gradually furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Yaksha asked.

"The ace team from the main campus of Kassel College is coming," Genji said, putting away his phone, his tone devoid of emotion. "Four people. The principal personally selected them."

"An ace?" Raven raised an eyebrow. "How big of an ace?"

Genjiro did not answer. He looked out the window; the train was slowing down, and the lights of Tokyo in the distance were getting closer and closer, like a burning ocean.

"Notify the branch to prepare for the reception," he said. "Also, retrieve all of Sakurai Akira's data, including the analysis of the ingredients in the drugs he used. I have a feeling this isn't over yet."

The crow and the yaksha exchanged a glance and both put away their playful expressions.

The train slowly pulled into the station. The rain was still falling, and the lights on the platform blurred in the rain, like indistinct stars.

Genji straightened the collar of his trench coat and stepped into the rain. Behind him, Crow opened an umbrella and followed, while Yasha and Sakura stood guard on either side of him.

The night in Tokyo is just beginning.

Far above the Pacific Ocean, a Gulfstream G550 tore through the clouds and swooped down toward this sea of ​​lights.

Inside the cabin, Lu Mingfei yawned, Frilian quietly gazed out the window, Chu Zihang wiped his knife, and Caesar flipped through the data on his tablet.

Chapter 342 Headquarters Specialist, Can I Borrow a Light?

It is located in the suburbs of Yokohama City, Kanagawa Prefecture, not far south of Tokyo.

This is a coastline forgotten by time. Before World War II, fishing villages once nestled here, their lights reflecting the starlight. Now, the fishermen have long since moved to Yokohama, becoming urban residents, leaving behind only these empty, abandoned docks, battered day after day by the sea, like rows of rusted ribs exposed on the desolate coast.