Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Blood had accumulated to a layer several centimeters thick on the floor, only preventing it from flowing out thanks to the airtight door. Corpses lay scattered in pools of blood, some retaining the postures they had assumed in their final moments. A nurse leaned against the corner of the wall, her arms crossed in front of her, as if trying to block something. A doctor lay prostrate on the floor, his fingers digging deep into the cracks in the floorboards, his fingernails all curled up and falling off.

The murderer who committed this bloodshed is still in this house.

Without a doubt, it's Deadpool.

Its dragonification was extremely advanced; its massive body resembled that of a professional rugby player, with its bulging muscles covered in fine, bluish-black scales. Its legs had completely fused into a long, python-like tail, coiling and twisting in the pool of blood, its ends still twitching slightly.

Lu Mingfei had seen all sorts of Deadpool photos in his Dragon Genealogy class at Kassel College. But he had never seen one in this form, half-human and half-snake, like a Naga from Indian mythology, or an ancient sea monster from the deep sea.

They had seen similar ancient hybrids deep in the icy seas of Takamagahara. But those were "corpse guardians" frozen in time for thousands of years, shriveled and withered, like specimens in a museum.

The creature before me was lively and energetic not long ago. Its scales were smooth and plump, gleaming with a moist sheen under the light. Its muscles remained elastic, and the newly grown scales at the end of its tail were a translucent, tender pink.

Imagine the scene: Deadpool used its sharp claws, like five daggers side by side, to tear apart the doctor and nurse's carotid arteries and chests. In the completely sealed room, no one could escape.

Then, Deadpool was also killed.

Its corpse was pierced through by a long sword and hung on the circular metal wall, like a bank vault door. The long sword pierced through the entire incredibly thick alloy door from the inside, and the tip of the sword protruded from Deadpool's back, fixing it there like a butterfly pinned to a specimen board.

The metal wall had large handles and complex combination locks. The vault door.

After Deadpool finished his massacre, he must have pounced on this door, peering inside. And the person inside, through this 20-centimeter-thick, blast-resistant hard alloy door, pierced through the metal with a single slash, pinning it to death on the spot.

Pierce through the all-metal vault door with a long sword and kill a fully dragonized Deadpool?

How fierce!

How inhuman!

Lu Mingfei scrambled to his feet and stumbled backward. The soles of his shoes made a nauseating thud as they stepped into the pool of blood. He didn't care about anything else; all he wanted was to escape this hellish scene as quickly as possible.

Just then—

The safety door at the end of the passage made a loud bang.

The heavy gate, which opens from top to bottom, crashed into the door frame groove with tremendous force.

Lu Mingfei turned around abruptly, his heart almost stopping.

He and Frilian were trapped and died in this stainless steel-reinforced passageway.

The high-powered exhaust fan started up by itself. A deep roar echoed in the enclosed space.

This was the "gasping" he had heard earlier—not a ghost, not airflow, but the sound of this elaborately designed imprisonment system in operation.

At this rate of air extraction, the oxygen concentration here will drop to a level sufficient to cause unconsciousness in less than ten minutes.

No wonder this passageway is reinforced with entire surfaces of stainless steel plates and I-beams. This isn't to prevent intruders, but to prevent anything inside from escaping.

Even if it manages to break through the vault door, it will be trapped in this heavily fortified passageway. The ventilation system will rapidly reduce the air pressure, causing it to fall into a coma due to lack of oxygen.

What strict imprisonment measures!

What exactly did the Snake-Headed Eight Family keep behind this door?

The phone screen suddenly lit up.

The final electronic key appeared on the screen, its dazzling patterns constantly changing, rearranging, and verifying, like a metallic flower blooming layer by layer. There was also Lu Mingze's last text message: "Now that we're here, why not open the door to Lanruo Temple?"

Lu Mingfei suddenly understood.

The key to Lanruo Temple was never a guide for his escape.

Its target was the heart of this hospital, the top-secret prison of the Snake Clan. What Caesar and Chu Zihang were looking for, they didn't find, but it led him and Frilian, whether by accident or deliberate guidance, to this place.

Lu Mingfei very much wanted to give this great honor to his two seniors.

But it was too late.

The exhaust fan was still roaring, sucking the air away inch by inch. Without opening that door, he would suffocate and lose consciousness within minutes, then die alone in this cold, metal tunnel. Even worse. Once the oxygen was completely depleted, they would both feel, in their conscious state, that each breath was futile, like drowning, until their consciousness faded like a candle flame.

Lu Mingze really pulled off a brilliant move.

"Do you need my help?"

Frillie remained calm, as if they were not in a bloody battlefield, about to open a door imprisoning an unknown monster.

Lu Mingfei glanced at her.

His eyes were as clear as a still lake. There, he saw no fear, no hesitation, no questioning of the mad decision he was about to make.

She simply followed him, regardless of what he would face after pushing open that door.

"Keep an eye on what's behind me," Lu Mingfei said in a hoarse voice. "Don't let that exhaust fan suck me dry."

Frillie nodded gently.

Lu Mingfei took a deep breath of the thin air, dragging his stiff legs as he trudged across the pool of blood.

He walked slowly, each step feeling like walking on cotton. Blood soaked through his shoes and socks, soaked through his trouser legs, the sticky, cold touch climbing up his ankles. With his equally stiff hands, he carefully placed the phone screen into the perfectly fitting card slot by the vault door.

"drop--"

The vault door automatically connected to the phone. A massive decoding program ran silently in the darkness, the indicator light flashing back and forth between red and green. He couldn't understand what the high-frequency beeping meant; he only felt it was like countless keys trying to turn and probe in the lock.

He looked around, trying to distract himself from the door that was about to open.

This room is practically a miniature hospital. From the most basic oxygen tanks and electrocardiographs to blood filtration carts, CPR machines, high-pressure embolization pumps, and cardiac shock carts—items most people wouldn't even recognize…

The intensive care unit was fully equipped with all the necessary equipment. In one corner, there was even the huge circular coil of an MRI machine, the complex suspended robotic arm of an X-ray angiography machine, and a medical linear accelerator that he had only ever seen on science programs.

Each one is an ultra-precise instrument worth millions of dollars.

So much expensive medical equipment, crammed into this blood-soaked room, all for the sake of saving lives...

Treat the "critically ill patient" who could kill Deadpool with a single stab through the vault door?

It's actually quite funny when you think about it.

Lu Mingfei couldn't laugh.

"Click".

The row of indicator lights above the vault door changed from red to green.

Twelve alloy safety bolts, each five centimeters in diameter, emitted a synchronized, soft click at the same moment—a mechanical sonata of absolute precision and absolute obedience. The 20-centimeter-thick hard alloy door slid open to both sides like a slowly opening bank vault.

The smell emanating from the crack in the door wasn't blood, disinfectant, or any other odor that matched the atmosphere of this chaotic scene.

It has a refreshing sandalwood scent.

Like a morning in an ancient temple deep in the mountains, like an expensive perfume bottle on a mother's dressing table that she has never been willing to use.

A naked girl stood behind the door.

She used a large, snow-white towel to dry her long, wet hair. Water droplets rolled down the ends of her hair, dripping onto her smooth shoulders, refracting into tiny glimmers of light under the lamp. Her skin was an ivory white, the kind that rarely gets exposed to sunlight, delicate and smooth, as if she had just woken from a long, beautiful dream.

Her hair was dark red.

There was only one hair color in the world that Lu Mingfei could never forget.

It is not the bright red of flames, nor the deep red of wine, but a more restrained, deeper, dark red, like pigeon blood congealed in white jade.

All fear, all panic, all the unknown and confusion, faded away at this moment.

Standing in the air filled with oxygen and the scent of sandalwood, Lu Mingfei's breathing gradually calmed. The roar of the exhaust fan was still behind him, and the stench of blood lingered at his feet, but he could hear and smell nothing anymore.

All that remained in his eyes was a head of dark red hair.

And those equally dark red eyes.

Those eyes gazed at him silently, with a distant, scrutinizing, yet not entirely unfamiliar light. It was like looking across an autumn lake at a red leaf submerged at the bottom.

"Senior Sister Nuonuo."

Lu Mingfei's lips moved silently.

He clearly wanted to say those four words, but his throat felt like it was blocked by something, and he could only let out a muffled breath.

He knew that the person standing in front of him was not that person.

They had similar hair color, similar eye color, and even the way they slightly tilted their chins to look at people was somewhat similar. But they were different. The look in their eyes was so similar, yet so different.

Like a red bird soaring in the clear blue sky.

One flew towards the rising sun, while the other disappeared into the long night.

Frilian stood quietly half a step behind Lu Mingfei.

She looked at the naked girl in front of her, at those dark red eyes, and at Lu Mingfei's completely frozen profile, as if his soul had been captured.

She did not speak.

She simply placed her hand very lightly on Lu Mingfei's wrist.

It feels cool and soft to the touch, like a fallen leaf.

Chapter 676 Major Client Angers

The rich aroma of brandy swirled slowly in the glass. Hilbert Jean Angers leaned against the window, his gaze passing over the amber liquid in the glass and landing on the cityscape of Tokyo on the other side.

Heavy rain.

The sky seemed to have been torn open with countless tiny cracks, and the rain poured down like a river being poured from the clouds. Lightning danced in the inky black cumulonimbus clouds, occasionally illuminating the entire night sky in a stark white light, where the spire of Tokyo Tower could be seen flickering like candlelight.

An earthquake struck.

First came a slight tremor, like the footsteps of a cat. Then came a continuous, muffled rumble from the depths of the earth, the entire Mitsui Okiyo building groaning. Window frames creaked, and the liquid in a glass rippled. Tokyo seemed small that night, like a child who had made a mistake, cowering and awaiting punishment.

Angers didn't move. He turned his head slightly, listening to what the storm had to say.

The manager of Mitsui Properties sat opposite him. His surname was Watanabe, and he had been in the industry for eighteen years, serving all sorts of clients—princes from oil-producing countries, Hong Kong property speculators, and Silicon Valley nouveau riche. But none of them were like the man before him. The white-haired gentleman was like a sheathed sword, quiet and sharp, making people both afraid to approach and afraid to stay away.

Watanabe tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, unaware of it himself. The ground shook again. Logically, this level of tremor shouldn't pose a threat to Mitsui Properties' main building, but at that moment, his mind was filled with the chapters from the disaster preparedness manual: stay away from windows, hide under tables, turn off fire sources. His legs were ready to flee, but his professional smile remained fixed on his face.

The person in front of me is a big client who spent millions of yen to get him to do things for him.

Just a few more minutes. The final payment of 200 million yen, in a manila envelope, will be in my pocket tonight.

“How many earthquakes of this magnitude are there in Tokyo?” Angers switched his wine glass to his left hand and looked out the window.

Watanabe quickly adopted a relaxed tone: "Oh, it's quite common. Don't be fooled by the commotion outside; Tokyo's buildings have some of the best earthquake resistance in the world. It's just those—" He paused, "those old houses, built before the war, that haven't been renovated, that might have some problems. You can absolutely trust the properties handled by Mitsui Properties."

What he didn't say was that earthquakes have become increasingly frequent in the past two years, and experts say there might be larger ones. He himself had just filled out a relocation intention form online with the personnel department last week, specifying Nagoya as the location. He didn't mention that either.

Angers did not look at him.