Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Angers didn't wait for his reply, and continued talking to himself, his gaze piercing through time, seeing the boy in the mud of Tokyo Harbor in 1946, wearing a tattered kimono.

“Ah, when I first saw you, there was something in your eyes,” Angers asked. “Do you know what it was?”

"What?" Inuyama He subconsciously replied, then immediately regretted it, realizing he had been led astray by the other person's conversation again.

“Hey, you’re so old, yet you still talk like a child without any opinions.” Sure enough, Angers immediately criticized without any mercy, his tone carrying the familiar scolding tone, “How many times have I told you not to be easily led astray by other people’s topics? You need to have your own judgment and pace.”

Inuyama He shut his mouth, a sense of powerlessness welling up inside him. To be scolded for even a casual remark in front of his goddaughters—the patriarch's face had been utterly humiliated tonight.

Angers ignored his embarrassment and continued to look at him with that penetrating gaze, slowly uttering a few words: "Sadness, I see the boy's sadness."

Inuyama He's body stiffened for a moment.

"An eighteen-year-old boy, born into a yakuza family that runs a sex industry, works every day in a dirty port, introducing Japanese prostitutes to the rude American sailors, slipping between prostitutes and clients like an eel, earning a meager pimp's fee."

Angers' voice was calm, yet like a cold scalpel, dissecting layer by layer the past that Inuyama He was trying to bury. "But in your eyes, there was a clean sadness, one that didn't belong to that muddy world. At that time, I wondered, why?"

Inuyama He abruptly turned his head, avoiding Angers' gaze, which seemed to see right through his soul. He was an old man now; an old man should seal those unbearable memories away in the deepest corner of his mind, cover them with a thick layer of dust, and never touch them again. Repeatedly chewing on the past, venting anger and self-pity on those memories—that's something only a weak little boy would do.

He didn't want anyone to spy on him, especially not the man in front of him!

However, Angers' gaze was as tangible as a physical object, locking onto him and scrutinizing the deepest corner of his heart from above, exposing that bloody wound to the light of day once again, with that all-knowing mockery that he hated.

“Don’t hide, Aga,” Angers continued. “A person can escape all the demons in the world, but there is one that he can never get rid of.”

He paused, then said, word by word, "That was my cowardly self."

Inuyama He's breathing became rapid.

“I collect the files of every student worth noting and study them carefully,” Angers continued, his tone returning to its usual calmness, yet becoming even colder. “Of course, I also secretly investigated your background. Before World War II, the Inuyama family was the weakest of the Snake-Headed Eight Families, despised and ostracized by other families for engaging in lowly professions.”

"Your father was a fanatical militarist who spent his days hanging out with radical young officers. He wanted to prove that the Inuyama family wasn't just spineless cowards who relied on women for their smiles by supporting the war and making a name for themselves, and he wanted to make the family stand tall."

Inuyama He gripped the velvet fabric of the sofa; he didn't want Angers to continue.

Chapter 600 Ahe, congratulations on overcoming the thorns!

“But Japan was defeated,” Angers said in a flat voice. “On the day the Emperor announced unconditional surrender, your father committed seppuku in the family’s ancestral home. A very traditional way of dying; perhaps he felt that this would preserve the last bit of dignity of a samurai.”

"Your family, besides you, only has two older sisters left. Taking advantage of the loss of your family's pillar, other families have all set their sights on the lucrative sex industry, seizing the Inuyama family's women, businesses, and territory. Your eldest sister, Inuyama Yuki, with her fiery personality, died in a carefully planned street brawl while trying to defend the last vestiges of the family's pitiful dignity and assets. But the enemies did not give up; they even demanded that your family hand over its only male heir, namely you, to atone for their sins and completely sever the Inuyama family's bloodline."

"No, no, don't say it!" Inuyama He suddenly turned his head, his eyes red, and hissed, his voice full of pain and resistance.

But Angers seemed not to hear, and continued in a calm, even cruel tone:

"Your second sister, Inuyama Miyabi, ran around seeking help, begging other branches of the family to lend a hand. But the Snake-Headed Eight Families were already a disorganized mess at that time, and even seemed to be happy to see the Inuyama family completely destroyed so they could divide up its remaining assets and turn the eight families into seven. No one helped her."

Inuyama He's body began to tremble uncontrollably, his face ashen.

“But your second sister eventually came up with a way to save the family,” Angers said, his voice devoid of emotion. “She used her stunning beauty to offer herself as a gift to an American colonel in the occupying forces. As a result, the American military agreed to protect your impoverished and precarious family.”

"No, please, please don't say any more!!" Inuyama He's voice was already choked with sobs, a cry of extreme pain and despair on the verge of collapse. He curled up on the sofa like a helpless child.

"cowardly!"

Angers suddenly shouted and, without warning, raised his hand and slapped Inuyama He hard across the uninjured cheek!

"Snap!" A crisp, loud sound!

Inuyama He was hit so hard that his head tilted to the side, and he was completely stunned.

“They don’t even dare to listen, they don’t even dare to face it!” Angers withdrew his hand, his eyes sharp as knives. “How can they possibly defeat it?! How can they possibly break it?!”

Inuyama He stood there dumbfounded, his cheeks burning with pain, but somewhere in his heart, it felt as if that slap had shattered his hard yet fragile shell.

Angers stared at him, continuing in that cold and clear tone, laying bare the darkest parts of his memory, bloodily and starkly:

"Back then, you were eighteen. A big boy in a tattered kimono, running through muddy puddles in the rain. You carried a few black-and-white photos of women painted with cheap paint, acting as a go-between between heavily made-up prostitutes and drunken American sailors. If they made a deal, you'd get a few crumpled yen as payment. You were the last man in the Inuyama family, stubbornly and almost foolishly clinging to the family's shady business."

“A U.S. Army colonel has moved into your ancestral home. He is your second sister's benefactor and also her lover. Every day, he takes advantage of your sister in that mansion that once belonged to your father, without paying a cent. Because this is the reward he deserves for protecting the Inuyama family. You dare not go home, you do not want to see any of this. You hide at the port, in those cheap rental rooms of prostitutes. You have sworn a blood oath in your heart that one day you will kill that American colonel, and you will make those cold-blooded bystanders of the Snake Clan pay a terrible price for your eldest sister's death!”

Angers suddenly bent down, grabbed Inuyama He's disheveled gray hair, and forced him to raise his head and look directly into his eyes.

"But you coward! Deep down you know you can't do it! You think you're too lowly, too weak, barely able to protect yourself, let alone take revenge!!"

Inuyama He's pupils trembled violently; Ange's words were like a red-hot branding iron, searing into his soul.

“But you are so lowly, so powerless, yet you are so kind to those equally lowly prostitutes in the port,” Angers’ tone softened slightly. “You would argue with those rough clients, even getting beaten black and blue, to help them get a little more pay or less abuse. Because in your subconscious, those pitiful women who sell their bodies for survival are like your second sister, whom you don’t want to face, but who used her body to ensure the family’s survival. Only in this insignificant way can you make a pitiful atonement for your inner ‘inability’.”

"Thump," "Thump"...

Around them, the girls who had been kneeling on the ground, not daring to raise their heads, now pressed their foreheads deeply into the cold ground.

They knew very little about their family's past and never imagined that the dignified and profound patriarch who, just a moment before, ruled the vast Inuyama family empire and wielded immense influence in both the underworld and legitimate society of Tokyo, had such a painful and humiliating childhood. To stand and listen to such a story would be the greatest disrespect to the patriarch.

A deathly silence fell over the entire Tamamo-no-Mae. Only Ange's voice echoed in the empty ballroom.

“But, Aga,” Angers’ voice suddenly rose, his grip on Inuyama He’s hair tightening slightly, “that’s power!”

Inuyama He raised his head blankly, his swollen eyes filled with bloodshot veins and confusion.

“Among all my students, you are by no means the most talented or of the best bloodline,” Angers said bluntly. “But you have power hidden in your heart, hidden beneath that endless sorrow and anger! In this world, there is no power that can withstand deep sorrow and pure anger! As long as one day, that sorrow and anger accumulate to be powerful enough, powerful enough to break through all the shackles and defenses you have set for yourself.”

Angers' eyes sharpened dramatically, as if he could truly see the scene: "It will turn into a roaring lion!"

Inuyama He's breath caught in his throat for a moment.

“What I’m going to do is never to encourage you, to comfort you, or to help you rebuild your confidence.” Angers released his grip, straightened his body, and spoke with a calm voice that carried the power of time. “Because those things are useless to you! Encouraging you will only condone your weakness. Comforting you will only help you temporarily forget your pain! That would be harming you!”

He paced slowly, his gaze fixed on Inuyama He.

"So, I choose to knock you down time and time again, to tell you in the most direct way how weak you are. I insult you, to mock you with the most cutting words, to make you remember this humiliation, to remember that there were things in this world that you could never do! I want you to forever remember that sorrow! That unforgettable sorrow caused by weakness, by the inability to protect those you love!"

Angers stopped and looked down at Inuyama He on the sofa again, his eyes filled with complex emotions:

"Since you need a target to hate, to unleash your full potential, then let me, your teacher, play that role. Let me become the greatest evil in your life. Let me make you risk your life for the goal of 'defeating me'! Let all your sorrow and anger transform into knives aimed at me!"

Angers paused slightly, his voice lowering: "And I have been waiting."

"Waiting for the day when the lion within you, imprisoned for too long, will roar in its true form."

The dance floor was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone held their breath.

Angers' gaze fell on Inuyama He, and in that gaze, all the mockery and coldness finally faded, leaving only pure relief.

He nodded slightly. "Today, I have seen results."

"Ninth-tier instantaneous strike, 516 times the speed of a divine slash."

Angers repeated the number. "Very good, you did a very good job."

After saying those two words, he said no more and turned to walk behind the sofa.

Then, to everyone's astonishment, he gently placed his warm, bony hands, which had just been wielding a knife and club, on Inuyama Kano's slightly hunched shoulders, which were covered in sweat, blood, and signs of aging.

The warmth of his palm seeped through the thin clothing into Inuyama Kasa's cold skin and stiff muscles.

In that instant, it was as if a bolt of lightning had cleaved through the fog in Inuyama He's mind.

He suddenly remembered a scene from many, many years ago, so distant that it was almost forgotten. Angry, at the age of eighteen, went to the harbor to see the American warships that resembled mountains.

A U.S. military officer who happened to be carrying a camera, and was a friend of Angers, joked, "Hey, Hilbert! Is this your illegitimate son from Japan? He doesn't look much like you!"

Just as the officer pressed the shutter, Angers, naturally and casually, placed his hands on his shoulders.

That photo is still tucked away in an old file in the family archives.

I see. I see. So that's how it is.

Inuyama He closed his eyes, his body trembling slightly. Not from pain, not from anger, but from a complex mix of emotions—more than sixty years overdue, a mixture of endless bitterness and relief—that had breached the strong dam in his heart.

Angers said nothing more. He withdrew his hand, extinguished the nearly burnt-out cigar, and downed the remaining half-glass of martini. Then, he picked up the suit jacket he had tossed aside, casually draped it over his bare back, which was tattooed with "The Violence of All Realms," turned, and strode toward the exit of the Tamamo-no-Mae Club.

His steps were steady and composed, as if the thrilling battle and the heavy conversation were just a trivial interlude in the evening.

Only his calm and clear words remained in the silent ballroom, like a final verdict, and like a belated blessing:

"You have successfully traversed the thorns, Ahe."

"congratulations."

Chapter 601 Angers: Here's the substitute doll Frillie made for you

"Oh, right, I forgot something."

Angers reached into his dusty trouser pocket and rummaged around for a moment. When he pulled his hand out, he found something incongruous with the atmosphere and his own appearance.

It is a palm-sized humanoid doll made of what appears to be delicate, undyed, natural-colored linen. The stitches are fine yet bear obvious signs of handcrafting, indicating it is not a product of an industrial assembly line.

The doll's design is very simple, with all four limbs and a torso, but no head. It has no eyes, no nose, no mouth—just a bare, bald patch, like an empty shell waiting to be filled. A thin, indistinct black thread is loosely tied around the doll's neck.

Angers twirled the black thread between his fingers, lifted the doll to his eyes, examined it briefly in the dim, lingering light of Tamamo-no-Mae's eyes, and then tossed it aside casually.

The doll flew in an arc and landed on Inuyama He's lap, who was slumped on the sofa, in a state of mental shock and physical exhaustion.

Inuyama He slowly lowered his head, his gaze falling on the rough, faceless doll, his swollen and painful eyes filled with confusion.

What is this thing? The principal threw him a rag doll? At a time like this? Is this some new form of humiliation? Or is it a veiled hint from the Secret Service leadership that he can't understand?

“Prick your finger and drip a drop of blood on it,” came Angers’ voice. He walked back to the opposite side of the sofa, but did not sit down. Instead, he leaned against the back of the sofa, put his hands back in his pockets, and casually looked at the doll on Inuyama He’s lap. His tone was as casual as if he were instructing a waiter to add an ice cube to his drink.

"Blood?" Inuyama He's voice was hoarse. He raised his hand, the one that had just gripped the knife and was now covered in small cuts and calluses, and looked at the simple doll. His brows furrowed tightly with pain and confusion. "Principal, what is this?"

“Just do as I say.” Angers didn’t explain, but simply raised his chin, signaling him to hurry up.

Inuyama He remained silent for a few seconds. Having just experienced that excruciating conversation and the soul-shaking battle, he now felt a numb obedience to Angers' orders. He asked no more questions, and with his other hand, which trembled slightly, he fumbled around and pulled out an extremely thin silver knife from inside his belt, a knife used for cutting cigars or handling odds and ends.

He lightly sliced ​​the pad of his left index finger with the tip of the knife.

A full, bright red drop of blood, still warm from his body, immediately seeped out from the tiny wound, trembling as it hung precariously on his fingertip.

Inuyama He hesitated for a moment, but finally moved his finger over the doll and gave it a gentle shake.

A drop of blood fell precisely to the center of the doll's featureless "face."

What happened next made Inuyama He, and all the girls around him who were secretly watching out of the corner of their eyes, hold their breath and stare wide-eyed.

That drop of blood did not spread, seep, or leave a stain like a normal liquid drop on fabric.

On the contrary, it seemed to possess a life of its own, spreading rapidly and evenly the moment it touched the doll's surface, like the finest dye instantly soaking through the linen on the doll's head. As the blood spread, clear outlines began to emerge on the doll's previously blank "face"!

Eyebrows, eyes, nose, mouth, and even the outline of the ears and the texture of the hair!

The facial features didn't appear out of thin air, but rather grew rapidly in an extremely realistic yet inexplicably cartoonishly exaggerated style! Inuyama He stared intently at the gradually taking shape small face.