Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

A huge shadow fell from the sky—

"Boom!" A steel beam weighing over ten tons fell from the ceiling, crashing down where they had just been standing. The beam sank several inches into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust taller than a person, and flying debris stung their faces. If they were still standing there, they would be minced meat by now, not even bones remaining.

Cracks were appearing in the ceiling and walls. The zigzag cracks spread rapidly across the interior walls. A constant "crackling" sound filled the air. Even the reinforced steel floorboards couldn't withstand the earthquake's force. This round of seismic waves exceeded magnitude eight; the walls shook, the floor trembled, and the whole world shook.

Flames surrounded them from all sides. The intense light and dust blurred their vision, making it impossible to see anything clearly. The wooden Buddha statues hanging on the walls transformed into balls of flame and plummeted to the ground with a series of thuds, shattering into countless burning wood pieces that hissed in the pools of blood. The black iron shrine was glowing red-hot, its sheet metal curling and deforming, sizzling, and the paint on its surface bubbling and peeling off.

These items were moved from the old shrine of the Sheqi Hachike family. They are artifacts that have been passed down for over a thousand years, including wooden carvings from the Kamakura period, shrines from the Muromachi period, and scriptures from the Edo period. Their lifespan ended today, and they turned to ashes and rose with the hot air currents.

Caesar was responsible for covering the rear, but he no longer fired his gun.

The flames separated them from the Deadpool horde. Firing now would only reveal their position. The muzzle flashes would be perfect targets, and the Deadpools would pounce on them. They crouched low, moving stealthily through the billowing black smoke, each step landing on tiptoe, like cats scurrying along a wall, to avoid alerting the nearby Deadpools.

Snakes are exceptionally sensitive to ground vibrations. Their bellies, close to the ground, are perfect sensors, capable of detecting the slightest tremors. The snake-like Deadpool should also possess a similar ability, which is the only thing they need to guard against.

Flames, black smoke, and intense heat—all these rendered the snakes' excellent sense of smell and infrared detection ineffective. With their poor eyesight, it would be difficult for them to spot Caesar and his companions in the blinding flames. Theoretically, they were safe now.

But Caesar harbored a vague unease...

The sound of snakes moving was getting closer and closer to them!

rustling sound—rustling sound—

The sounds came from all directions, growing clearer and more intense, like countless snakes crawling on withered leaves. For some reason, these burning dead sensed that they were moving towards the elevator doors. It seemed they had seen through Genji's tactics; they knew these humans were going to run, and they knew the elevator was the only exit.

But they were hidden in the black smoke. Deadpools don't have Caesar's super hearing; they should have been blindly wandering around in the fire. They should have been bumping around like headless flies, crashing into the flames, hitting walls, bumping into each other, tearing at each other. But they weren't. They moved purposefully, towards the same direction: the elevator.

Caesar suspected it was just his imagination. Perhaps the flames distorted the sound, or perhaps the echo from the walls created an illusion. Perhaps…

He turned around and, together with Chu Zihang, dragged Yuan Zhisheng towards the elevator. C4 explosives were burning in the fire, the small yellow cubes sizzling and smoking like pieces of melted butter. They would explode soon; they only had a few minutes left. A few minutes, 180 seconds—what could they do? Enough to smoke a cigarette, exchange a few words, run a few hundred meters. Not enough to escape.

They finally reached the elevator door.

The three men's faces paled. The shockwave had not only cracked the floorboards and walls but also snapped the steel beam above the elevator door. The beam, which had been lying across the door frame, was now broken in two, one end still hanging on the wall, the other dangling down like a broken flagpole. The door was blocked by the collapsed wall, a pile of bricks and concrete completely blocking it, the largest piece of concrete taller than a person.

The only way out has been blocked.

Even the power of "King's Flame" couldn't destroy the walls of Genji Heavy Industries. The walls were reinforced with steel plates and the concrete contained special materials, making them impervious to bombs. In minutes, the flames of an explosion would engulf the floor, and they would ultimately become the Death Servants' sacrificial offerings. Three more pieces of human flesh appeared in the feast of roasted snakes.

“I never dreamed I’d die jumping into an oven during a feast of roasted snakes,” Caesar said, kicking the collapsing wall hard with a loud bang, but he couldn’t budge the heavy object. The wall remained unmoved, but his leg went numb from the impact. He turned and leaned against the wall, his forehead against the cold concrete, and closed his eyes.

"So how do you want to die?" Chu Zihang drew his long sword from his waist, the blade gleaming coldly in the firelight. He wiped the black blood off the blade with his sleeve.

Caesar thought for a moment, a slight smile appearing on his lips: "I'll lie on a velvet chaise lounge, a glass of 1978 Romanée-Conti in my hand, and slowly close my eyes. The girls next to me will cry, but they'll cry beautifully, their tears won't smudge their makeup. The band's repertoire will be Mozart's Requiem, but with a jazz arrangement, the trumpet played in a languid manner. That's more fitting for me."

“It sounds like a wedding,” Chu Zihang said.

“Death and marriage are essentially the same thing,” Caesar shrugged. “Both are an end and a beginning. It’s just that one is more painful and the other is more expensive.”

Yuan Zhisheng helped Chu Zihang to his feet. He limped to the wall and tried pressing the down button for the freight elevator.

Chapter 697 Chu Zihang: This Time It's My Turn

The button lit up. With a soft "ding," the numbers above the elevator door slowly changed.

This freight elevator is still functioning normally!

They all thought the VIP elevator was finished, and the freight elevator was finished too. Just now, the freight elevator plummeted straight down from the high floor. Caesar and Chu Zihang both thought it had crashed. Falling from such a height, the bottom of the elevator shaft was just a sheet of iron. It would definitely be smashed into a disc, with no intact sheet metal left.

As for whether Lu Mingfei and Frillian were still alive, they didn't mention it. Worrying was useless; they faced an even greater crisis—dozens, even hundreds, of Deadpools, flames everywhere, and an imminent explosion of C4.

But this slow-moving old-fashioned elevator miraculously survived the earthquake.

Damn luck saved them at the last minute. A few minutes was more than enough time for the sluggish freight elevator to ascend. The elevator crawled along like a snail, each number ticking down like an eternity, but it was crawling, it was getting closer to them.

"So Lu Mingfei and Frilian are alright too!" Caesar's voice was filled with relief, and his eyebrows rose.

Chu Zihang's heart stirred.

Caesar's first reaction was surprisingly this. It turns out he hadn't said anything, but he had been thinking about his companions' lives. Some people express their concern verbally, while others keep it hidden in their hearts; Caesar was the latter.

Chu Zihang cut a piece from the C4 explosive, squeezed it; it was as soft as clay, easily molded into various shapes between his fingers. He inserted the fuse, a thin rod about the thickness of a shoelace, with a black fuse protruding from the yellow explosive block. He stuck the explosive block to the elevator door, pressing it firmly to make it stick.

“Cover me,” he said.

Caesar raised his gun, aimed it at the surroundings, and slowly moved the muzzle along with his gaze.

Chu Zihang lit the fuse.

"Hiss." The sparks shot down the fuse like a red worm. Three seconds, two seconds, one second—

"boom!"

The aluminum alloy door, which was embedded with steel plates, was blown open, emitting blue smoke and revealing the dark elevator shaft inside.

“GOOD.” Caesar glanced into the doorway, then turned to look behind him, his face instantly darkening. “But some guys also want to take the elevator.”

The hissing sounds of swimming and the baby crying gradually drew closer.

This time, even Chu Zihang and Yuan Zhisheng could hear it.

Bright, serpentine shadows appeared faintly amidst the flames and black smoke. The Deadpool, burning fiercely, stubbornly groped its way towards them, enduring the excruciating pain. Their scales crackled and popped, their skin blistered, cracked, and charred, revealing the red muscle beneath. But they continued to move, to approach, like a swarm of ants on fire, crawling in one direction even in death.

It wasn't Caesar's illusion; Deadpool has the ability to sense their location.

Deadpool, wielding twin swords, writhed seductively, resembling the Naga, the serpent god of Hindu mythology—human torso and serpentine lower body, swords in hand, moving through the flames. His swords glowed red-hot in the fire, their blades gleaming with a dark red light, like iron just pulled from a forge, unquenched. He stirred up a whirlwind of fire, sparks flying, flames swirling around him, performing a deathly dance.

Caesar's large-caliber lead bullet did not cause it a fatal wound. There was a fist-sized hole in its chest, the edges of which were charred black, and black blood gushed out from it, dripping onto the ground with a hissing sound, but the blood evaporated before it hit the ground, turning into wisps of foul-smelling steam.

"So that's it, blood!" Chu Zihang said in a low voice, "They smelled the blood on Yuan Zhisheng!"

Caesar suddenly realized.

Deadpool's thirst for blood and slaughter is deeply ingrained in his mind; it's an instinct deeper than hunger, an obsession more stubborn than death. Even when he's on the verge of death, he won't give up. Genji's blood is the most coveted delicacy for them—it's the blood of an emperor, the blood of a dragon, the thing they crave most.

Genjiro had previously injured his shoulder, and his Nanban tunic was soaked in blood. This type of Japanese armor used straw padding, which was extremely absorbent, like a sponge absorbing water. Once the blood seeped in, it stuck and couldn't be shaken off. Wearing this armor, Genjiro became a tracking device. The strong smell of burning couldn't mask his scent, which was like a shark smelling blood to Deadpool, able to track him down from kilometers away.

"Drop your armor now!" Caesar growled.

"Too late." Chu Zihang had already made his move. He quickly disassembled the armor's straps, his fingers flying as he untied the knots and pulled out the belt. "Deadpool wants blood, not armor. The armor is just a decoy."

He put on his breastplate and shoulder armor, the shoulder armor clinging to his skin, carrying the bloody scent of Genjiro.

"You went first last time underwater, this time it's my turn," Chu Zihang said. "Give me cover fire later."

Chu Zihang unloaded the bullets from the shotgun and shaved open the plastic cartridge cases. "Snap," gunpowder spilled out, black granules, a small clump. He sprinkled the gunpowder on Yuan Zhisheng's shoulder, on the still-bleeding wound; the black gunpowder immediately became soaked in blood, turning into a paste.

Caesar lit a cigar, took a deep drag, and the butt glowed red. He knelt down and pressed the cigar against Genji's wound.

"hiss."

The burning pain of the nerve endings was enough to make an ordinary person faint; every nerve was screaming, the pain so intense that even a cry couldn't be heard. Yuan Zhisheng gritted his teeth, and veins bulged on his forehead. But he didn't cry out; he only let out a muffled groan.

The burns temporarily blocked the blood vessels. The blood on the surface of the wound dried up, forming a black scab with slightly red edges. This removed the smell of blood from Genjiro's body, and at least for the next few minutes, no more blood would seep out.

A few minutes should be enough.

Chu Zihang put away his shotgun and drew his longsword. He wasn't as skilled with firearms as Caesar; in this situation, a sword was far more reliable. In his memory, when that man charged towards God, he also only had a longsword in his hand. That man charged forward and never came out again. The image was etched into his mind, as deep as a knife carving, indelible.

“Wait a minute,” said Genjiro.

Chu Zihang turned his head.

Yuan Zhisheng tossed the spider-cutting knife to him. The knife flipped in the air, spinning with a "whoosh," and Chu Zihang caught it.

“Use it,” Yuan Zhisheng said, his eyes half-closed and his lips pale.

Chu Zihang nodded. He rushed into the fire, leaving a black shadow in the flames before being engulfed by them in an instant.

The Deadpools chased after Chu Zihang, rustling like countless snakes slithering through the grass, getting farther and farther away, and denser and denser.

Caesar glanced at the freight elevator.

The elevator won't reach the mural hall for another two minutes. That means Chu Zihang needs to stall for at least two minutes. Two minutes, one hundred and twenty seconds. Enough for a person to run four hundred meters, finish a cigarette, or say one hundred and twenty sentences. Not enough to fight a bunch of Deadpools.

Not enough, far from enough.

Caesar loaded the Sten submachine gun with bullets, one by one. The bullets went in through the magazine, "click-click-click." At times like this, he had to do something, not think; thinking would only lead to confusion. He could only do, do something concrete to keep his hands from shaking and his mind from racing.

He actually wanted to fight Deadpool in close combat. Chu Zihang is truly a complete madman. In close combat, he might not even win in a one-on-one fight. Deadpool is too fast, too strong, and has a strong healing ability, like an unkillable monster. But now Chu Zihang is being chased by dozens, even hundreds, of burning Deadpools. Deadpools are covered in fire, like moving torches, chasing him like a pack of mad dogs, biting and refusing to let go.

However, Chu Zihang has always been a madman. To become a madman, one needs a reason. Some do it for revenge, some to save lives, and some to prove themselves.

What was Chu Zihang's reason? Caesar didn't know. But he knew that the reason must be powerful enough to make someone willing to rush into a fire to face a hundred unkillable monsters.

Caesar pressed the magazine. With a "click," the magazine went into place, the latch locking tightly and fitting perfectly.

“The family has information on you and Chu Zihang,” Yuan Zhisheng said weakly, leaning against the door, his head tilted back and his eyes half-closed. “You are rivals.”

"Hmm," Caesar said, continuing to load bullets without looking up.

"An opponent? What kind of opponent?" Genji's voice was very soft, as if it could be blown away by the wind at any moment.

“They compare everything. Grades, physical fitness, task completion rate, even who gets first place in the cafeteria, who gets the braised pork first,” Caesar said, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “That guy seems easy to get along with on the surface, polite to everyone, nodding and greeting each other when you meet him, but deep down he’s a very self-centered person. No one can change his mind once he’s made a decision. Like just now, he just charged ahead without warning, as if he were our team leader. What I can’t stand the most is him, he completely disregards other people’s opinions.”

"So, Chu Zihang's personality isn't very likable," Yuan Zhisheng said, his voice so weak it seemed like it could be blown away by the wind, barely a whisper, "but you don't seem to dislike him that much."

"Ha." Caesar raised his head, looking into the depths of the fire, his eyes narrowing, the firelight dancing in his pupils. "Who would hate another version of themselves?"

Genjiro was taken aback, and opened his eyes a crack to look at Caesar.

“He and I are the same type of person,” Caesar said. “There are only a handful of people in this world who can be my rivals. If you lose one, you’ll never have another. It’s like a tennis racket; you only have two in a set, and if you lose one, you can’t play anymore.”

He paused, then lowered his voice.

"But you don't understand, you are the only emperor of the Snake Clan. A person without an opponent is actually quite pitiful."

A series of clanging sounds came from the fire.

"Ta-da!"

It was unclear whether Chu Zihang was slashing at the Deadpool's bones or clashing swords with the wielding snake man. The sounds were as dense as raindrops, as the clanging of metal, as if someone were tolling a bell in the sky. Every strike was a matter of life and death, every strike a matter of life and death.

Caesar couldn't wait any longer, and his Sten submachine gun roared.

"Da da da da da da—"

Gunshots echoed through the fire, shaking the walls and sending dust plumes down. This was Chu Zihang's signal to retreat. The freight elevator was about half a minute away, but he couldn't wait any longer. Every second he waited increased Chu Zihang's danger. Every second he waited might mean he would never see it again.

Chu Zihang was getting further and further away from them, locked in a fierce struggle. The clanging sound remained in the same direction, without shifting. This indicated that he was entangled and unable to break free. Caesar looked into the depths of the fire but could not see Chu Zihang at all.

Chu Zihang wouldn't be foolish enough to keep rushing deeper into the fire. The only explanation for his actions is that he was surrounded by a large number of Dead Servants. He was probably disoriented, surrounded by flames, black smoke, and screaming Dead Servants. He was circling in the fire, unable to find a way out; every direction he ran led to a dead end.

Caesar used the sound of gunfire to guide him.

The gunshots revealed their position, but no Deadpools rushed towards them. The thirst for royal blood had overwhelmed everything—the instinct for survival, the fear of fire. The Deadpools either writhed in agony in the flames, wailing like abandoned infants, or they relentlessly pursued Chu Zihang, like a pack of hungry wolves chasing a rabbit.