Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Chu Zihang was running half a body length behind Caesar, his brain processing all the information that had just flooded in with maximum efficiency.

There was an indescribable smell lingering in the air, a light, faint, and slightly sweet scent, possibly from volatile medications.

The scent had been faintly present since he stepped into Kazama Ruri's room, but it was overpowered by the strong smell of Japanese tobacco at the time.

Now that the smoke has dissipated, the subtle sweetness is fully revealed: LSD. But the purity is ridiculously high; the dosage is released from the air conditioning system, silently seeping into the armrests of every seat in the theater.

"LSD! Damn it! That's the effect of LSD!" Caesar blurted out as he ran.

He finally understood what was going on with his unusual, almost uncontrollable emotional engagement while watching the performance.

It wasn't that Kazama Ruri's acting was too superb, although her acting was indeed on a completely different level. Rather, from the moment they stepped into the Kabuki-za, there was an extra ingredient in the air.

The micro-dose of LSD is precisely controlled, just enough to bring tears to the eyes of ordinary people, elicit hoarse praise from critics, and make humpback whales cry all night like koalas soaked in rain.

But for people like him and Chu Zihang, who have drug resistance due to their mixed blood, the drug's effects were suppressed to a critical point that could be firmly held down by reason and willpower. It was enough to make their hearts flutter slightly, but far from enough to turn them into puppets to be manipulated by others.

The entire performance was meticulously orchestrated by the Ghosts. Every audience member was a prop, and every tear was a product pre-calculated using chemical formulas.

Ruri Kazama's performance in the Kabuki theater was not to conquer Tokyo's Kabuki critics' circle, nor to gild his shady past as a member of the Oni clan with an artistic veneer; he was performing specifically for the two of them.

Alone, wearing four different personas—Izanami, Izanagi, Yamata no Orochi, and Susanoo—he tells three stories to the two listeners in the second-floor box.

They burst through the stairwell door and rushed down the steps leading to the underground parking garage. The stairwell had no tatami mats or paper lanterns; only the stark white light of fluorescent lamps shone on the gray concrete steps, creating a jarring contrast with their two elegant black kimonos.

After sprinting down about three stories, a clear and sharp cracking sound came from above as a sharp blade cleaved open the heavy wooden door.

The sound traveled from the end of the corridor, penetrating through layers of walls and the narrow echo chamber of the stairwell, distorted into the long, lingering resonance of a snapped string.

Caesar understood perfectly: the blade that had cut through it was ebony, not ordinary pine or cedar, but a high-density hardwood with a grain as fine as flowing water. A blade capable of cleaving through such wood in one stroke must be a renowned weapon wielded by an ancient swordsmanship honed over decades of rigorous training.

Spider Cutter, the patriarch of the Snake Clan, has arrived.

Genji stepped over the collapsed shards in front of the door, carrying the legendary Spider Cutter that had supposedly slain the Earth Spider, and entered the room at the deepest part of the corridor. Fine powder of ebony wood shavings still clung to the blade.

He paused for a moment amidst the ruins of the door frame, his gaze sweeping across the empty room like that of a hawk.

The person is gone. The wisps of white smoke haven't yet dissipated, and the unique, delicate aroma of Japanese tobacco fills every inch of the air.

In the center of the room stood a Tang-style black lacquered dressing table, on which sat a round mirror with a brass rim. The mirror was polished to a shine, reflecting his own angular face.

A blood-red plain robe hung on a clothes rack next to the dressing table. It was the same color as the shroud worn by Izanami in the mural he had seen in the secret chamber of Genji Heavy Industries, except that this one was made of silk and not painted.

The night breeze rushed in through the open French windows, and the plain white dress trembled gently in the wind, its hem rising and falling as if a slender person were dancing alone in it, singing a mournful ancient tune as they danced.

Weary, weary, the ghostly face of the emperor, the path I came from is now lost, turning back is all in vain, a broken boat floats on the sea, gazing at the lonely city, still remembering the deep kindness of yesteryear, the hatred flowing eastward like the endless river.

The singing had already stopped the moment he broke down the door, but as he stood before this woman in plain clothes, he could still vaguely feel the melody lingering in the corner of the room, refusing to dissipate completely.

That person is gone, but there's not a single place in the house that doesn't bear the traces of that person.

Genjiro slowly returned the spider-cutting blade to his waist. He lowered his eyes and saw that besides the celadon tobacco dish and ebony tobacco pouch, there was also an iPad on the dressing table.

The screen was lit up, displaying a page on the CNN news website, which Kazama Ruri had deliberately left behind before he left, just as he had deliberately left all the clues in this room.

But Genjiro didn't read that news.

His gaze was drawn to another photo on the screen, the background image of the iPad desktop: two boys, around thirteen or fourteen years old, standing in front of the gangway of a light helicopter, wearing identical black school uniforms.

The setting sun was sinking behind them into the ridgeline, its orange-red light gilding their two young faces.

One child stood proudly with his hands on his hips, chin slightly raised, his eyes full of youthful arrogance, as if saying, "This world will be mine sooner or later." Another child huddled behind him, head slightly lowered, a timid smile playing on his lips, unsure whether to laugh or not. He wanted to hide himself in the back view in front of him, yet he couldn't bear to miss this moment on camera.

Yuan Zhisheng stood before the figure in the blood-red robe, remaining silent for a long time.

Crow and Cherry followed closely behind, rushing into the room and immediately setting up a perimeter.

The Raven's submachine gun swept across every corner in a standard indoor search posture, not even missing the ceiling or the air conditioning vents.

Sakura quickly checked the windowsills of the French windows and the corridor outside the door, and only relaxed her shoulders slightly after confirming that there was no ambush.

Just over ten minutes ago, they saw that news online. At the time, they were sitting in the executive bureau office drinking coffee. Crow was scrolling through the CNN international update on his phone when he saw that ghostly, beautiful face on the stage and felt that it looked familiar.

But Yuan Zhisheng's face changed color after just one glance.

Without saying a word, Genji rushed to the rooftop and boarded the helicopter used by the Snake Clan. That helicopter was parked on the rooftop helipad of the Genji Heavy Industries building all year round, ready to be deployed at any time.

Sakura could only drive her car, pulling the crow along the ground, in a desperate chase. The Hummer was still stuck in traffic, and the driver, Yaksha, could only slowly inflate the car, honking his horn at the top of his lungs.

They still don't know why the news caused Genji to lose his composure so much. In fact, the only reason the news was submitted to Genji's desk was because Sakura mentioned in the briefing summary that the "Oni" emblem of the Oni Clan appeared in the stage set, and the performance was suspected to be related to the Oni Clan.

“No suspicious persons were found in the vicinity. All the audience members left after the show. The theater manager claimed that a certain company rented the venue and paid a high fee, which they claimed to be completely unaware of. The cast and crew left by bus immediately after the performance.” Sakura closed her phone and quickly reported, “In another fifteen minutes we will be able to complete the complete encirclement and conduct a carpet search.”

“No need to search anymore.” Yuan Zhisheng turned around. He withdrew his gaze from the plain clothes, and a look of weariness appeared on his usually calm and composed face.

When a person finally has to admit a fact that he has suppressed for too many years, a weariness seeps out from the very marrow of his bones, deeper than weariness.

“He won’t give me any chance. He’s been smarter than me since I was a child. He should have been the one to inherit the family business—if that incident hadn’t happened back then.”

Sakura and the crow were both stunned.

The two exchanged a quick glance, both seeing the same shocked question reflected in each other's eyes: a younger brother? Genji has a younger brother?

However, in all the official genealogies of the Snake Clan, the Minamoto family clearly lists only one heir in this generation: Minamoto Chisei. No publicly available information, media records, or internal family archives contain a single word about the "second son of the Minamoto family."

This is not a secret that is forbidden to be talked about; it is a person who has been completely erased from history.

“His name is Chizuru. Gen Chizuru.” Gen Chizuru gripped the hilt of the Spider Cutter, drawing the sword with extremely slow movements, as if he were pulling something incredibly heavy out of a long-frozen past.

After the blade was completely sheathed, he did not pause. With one hand, he slashed horizontally, the blade cutting across the waistline of the blood-red robe without making the slightest sound of obstruction.

Half of her plain robe fluttered onto the tatami mat, like a maple leaf broken off by the autumn wind, so light it seemed weightless.

He sheathed his sword.

"My younger brother crawled back from hell to find me."

Chapter 791 Chu Zihang: Will Lu Mingfei be my bridesmaid?

Dark clouds piled up overhead all day. From dawn to noon, and from noon to dusk, the clouds grew thicker and lower, like a fleet of silent black whales slowly swimming over Tokyo, casting the entire city under a leaden gray shadow.

At midnight, a torrential downpour began. It was as if someone had kicked over a giant basin full of water, spilling out all the water that had been stored up all day in a single second.

In the blink of an eye, the street was flooded, with turbid waves surging and frothing with white foam, carrying plastic bags, withered leaves, and scraps of paper that had drifted in from who-knows-where, rushing downstream with a thunderous roar along the drainage ditches of the old streets of Shinjuku. The water quickly rose above the calves.

The streetlights on the long street were sparse, and the municipal facilities in these old neighborhoods were still stuck before the bubble economy era. Every few dozen meters there was an old high-pressure sodium lamp, which barely emitted a dim and lonely yellow light in the rain.

The signs of capsule hotels and love hotels illuminated each other in the rain. On one side, the neon sign "Cap-tel" with its missing strokes struggled to stay lit in the rain; on the other side, the colorful LED lights on the exterior wall of the small building never went out, their pink, light purple, and warm yellow colors changing rhythmically, spreading out in patches of wet, misty light in the rainy night.

Caesar lay on his back on the bed, chewing on a seaweed rice ball. He had folded up a pillow to support his back, and his legs were crossed and propped up against the bulkhead, a posture somewhere between resigned and defiant.

Chu Zihang sat at the entrance of the capsule, one foot inside and the other dangling outside, holding up binoculars and aiming at the small building opposite.

Thanks to the Land Rover left behind by Kazama Ruri, they escaped from the Kabuki-za without much effort.

The dark green Land Rover Defender was parked in a parking space at the deepest part of the second floor, covered with a thin layer of dust, indicating that it had been waiting there for several days.

As Caesar turned the key to ignite the fire, a dense cacophony of hurried footsteps and short, forceful Japanese commands echoed overhead. The first wave of ground troops from the Snake Clan had already stormed into the Kabuki-za Grand Hall.

As he drove his car up the ramp from the underground parking garage onto Ginza Street, his rearview mirror reflected two black Toyota Alphards turning from the other side of the intersection, their red police lights silently flashing.

Kazama Ruri's timing was too precise. If they had been just a few minutes later, they would have been trapped inside the Kabuki theater, caught like turtles in a jar, and pinned down on the spot.

But this also proves one thing: this younger brother, who is a ghost, is far more terrifying than his older brother, who is an emperor.

Genjiro's lineage was undoubtedly outstanding, but he was hardly a far-sighted leader.

He makes mistakes, like that time at the Shinbara Middle School construction site, when he went in alone and was surrounded by the Deadpools. If Caesar and Chu Zihang hadn't arrived in time, he probably would have become Deadpool's meal.

But Kazama Ruri hasn't made a single mistake since he appeared. Every step has been perfectly calculated, from adjusting the LSD dosage to clearing the guards from the corridor, from manipulating the Kabuki-za's authorized photographer to put Caesar and Chu Zihang's photos on CNN to having a Land Rover with a full tank of gas ready for them in the garage beforehand.

He left not a single oversight that could be explained by "accident".

Caesar was filled with resentment at being manipulated by him, but the other party was a girl with delicate features and an innocent-looking face. When she smiled, her eyes curved, as if all the dark deeds in the world had nothing to do with her.

Not long after they returned to Takamagahara, Lu Mingfei called.

The call was made from Disneyland, and in the background, you could faintly hear the brass music from the parade floats and Mickey Mouse's signature high-pitched voice.

Lu Mingfei and Frilian had just accompanied Erii to the evening parade. It was said that Erii was personally invited onto the float by Mio Mouse, and the three of them held hands and danced together on it. The spotlight on the top of the float made her newly dyed light brown hair and white off-shoulder dress shine. Her dancing was far from skillful, but she looked very comfortable.

Lu Mingfei made this call simply because he was broke.

The 700,000 yen that Chu Zihang had given him was spent in a single day. He spent 2,700 yen at the beauty salon, nearly 700,000 yen at the shopping mall, then on Disneyland tickets, popcorn, ice cream, Mickey headbands, princess crowns, fireworks tickets, and the iced coffee that Frillie never stopped drinking.

Erii's sole purpose in running away from home was to go out and have fun. Going out and having fun meant spending a lot of money. Lu Mingfei was afraid that this underworld princess might dismantle Tokyo into pieces if she was in a bad mood. So, he provided her with the highest standards of care in terms of food, clothing, housing, and transportation. At this rate of spending, she was spending at least tens of thousands of yen every day. When it came to buying clothes and shoes, it was like a tap that had been turned on.

Under normal circumstances, either Gattuso's American Express black card or Chu's family account could easily cover for them. But right now, these two have to honestly sell alcohol and take a cut in Takamagahara to make money. They're penniless, with only a handful of bills in their pockets.

In desperation, Caesar set his sights on the Land Rover. Since it wasn't his own car anyway, he sold the dark green Land Rover Defender to the Humpback Whale.

The humpback whale was worried about not having a chance to do something practical for Kazama Ruri when it saw a pair of custom-made sunglasses by Kazama Ruri on the front seat of the Land Rover. It was so moved that its eyes welled up with tears again, and it generously paid a very generous price, which solved its immediate problem.

They came to meet Lu Mingfei with this money.

Caesar tossed an envelope beside his pillow containing a thick stack of cash he'd just extracted from the humpback whale—enough for Lu Mingfei to go crazy with his humanoid weapon for several more days.

Now they are completely undocumented, without any identification, and are on the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department's wanted list. Their phone numbers have long been locked by the Hebi-hachi family, so they can't even get a new phone, let alone contact Lu Mingfei at any time. They can only stay in this capsule hotel they've squeezed into more than once and wait.

"Do you believe in that Kazama Ruri?" Chu Zihang asked, putting down his binoculars.

The floor-to-ceiling windows on the fifth floor of the love hotel across the street were lit with warm red light. The curtains were only half drawn, and occasionally you could see a figure moving around in the room. It was Frilian, whose long silver hair refracted a soft, moon-white luster under the light.

Erii is probably already asleep, and Lu Mingfei is probably curled up in the bathtub with a blanket.

"I've reviewed all the materials he gave me, and they all seem genuine," Caesar mumbled, stuffing the last bite of his rice ball into his mouth. "The analysis fits together. Tachibana Masamune is highly suspicious—a Russian who only arrived in Japan twenty years ago, his resume as blank as if it'd been bleached. Osaka is even more suspicious—an immortal masked man, a 'cannibalistic' theory, a leader whose background even the second-in-command couldn't figure out. But the most suspicious—"

He swallowed the rice ball and tapped his temple with his index finger. "—Still Kazama Ruri herself."

“That’s right. Everything he handed over can withstand scrutiny, except for his own character.” Chu Zihang placed the binoculars on his lap and turned to face Caesar.

The capsule was extremely cramped; when two people sat facing each other, their knees almost touched. The fluorescent lights overhead emitted a faint hum of electricity.

"He described himself as a pitiful man manipulated by the king, an unlucky second-in-command trying to break free from the shackles of his birth, and a talented and idealistic artist. But everything he did tonight, infiltrating LSD into the entire Kabuki-za audience, subtly drawing us in and then releasing us, every step was calm, precise, and decisive. That's not something the manipulated can do; it's something only the manipulator can do."

"But the current situation is this: if we can't join forces with Genjiro, we must join forces with Ruri Kazama. We can't contact the academy, and we're fighting alone in Japan. Without allies, we can't make any progress. Without allies, we can't hold out on this land for long," Chu Zihang added.

“To ally with him is to be dragged into gangland feuds,” Caesar said.

He crushed the empty beer can in his palm, and the aluminum can made a crisp, deforming sound.

“According to school rules, we can only use force against dragons, Deadpools, or hybrids who have been confirmed to have committed murder. Kazama Ruri must provide us with more evidence to prove that Wang Jiang has indeed committed a crime that requires the intervention of the Executive Department. As long as we stick to this principle, we will not be dragged into gang warfare; we are just carrying out a legitimate mission authorized by the academy,” Chu Zihang said.

The capsule was quiet for a short while.

Caesar shrugged and looked at Chu Zihang with an expression that said, "Did you completely misunderstand?"