Dragon Raja: Starting with Deadpool, Evolving Through Devouring

From that moment on, I deeply felt... that the final war was approaching.

"To be or not to be, that is the question," the Night's Watchman calmly quoted from Shakespeare's classic work.

"No!" Angers turned his head sharply, his iron-gray pupils blazing with intense golden flames.

The night watchman paused for a moment, then deftly raised his wine glass with one hand and grabbed the bottle with the other, holding it in front of his eyes.

He looked at Angers through the amber-colored wine.

"What are you doing?" Angers was stunned.

“Use it as sunglasses… your eyes are shining like flashlights now!” the night watchman declared confidently.

Angers' sudden surge of emotion didn't last more than a few seconds in front of his old friend, whose style of doing things was always whimsical, before it quickly subsided like the receding tide.

It's like when a man shakes a few times at the most crucial moment of doing *that*, and then he enters "sage mode" afterward.

Angers sighed dejectedly, "The final battle will only reveal the victor after it begins. The fall of the White King tells us that even the supreme emperors of the dragon race can die, and the Black King is no exception!"

And Cao Han... he will be the one dancing on the scales of victory.

The scissors of fate have not only struck the lifelines of humans, but also those of dragons. After the final battle, dragons may regain their dominance over the world, or they may be utterly destroyed.

In fact, the school board was also looking forward to the final battle; they were even full of confidence, as were other mixed-race families, such as those from Hancock…

"Han Gao is nothing but an old, senile speculator," the Night's Watchman scoffed, "and he tries to dress like a cowboy like me."

Angers sighed again. He didn't know why his longtime partner was always a bit off-track. The theme of human destiny and world destruction didn't seem as serious as the fact that he and Henkel were wearing the same clothes...

In fact, the Night's Watch's accusations against Henkel are completely unfounded. In his youth, Henkel was indeed a Texas cowboy and a sheriff in a small town, wielding those alchemical revolvers to wreak havoc.

Henkel is now the leader of the entire North American mixed-race population, leading numerous large mixed-race families, which can be described as "powerful and numerous".

His old friend, on the other hand, was more like a handsome young man who indulged in wild bar girls and bottles of alcohol, and who loved denim-style clothing.

One became the leader of the mixed-race community, and the other is the current master of alchemy. It can only be said that those who like to wear denim clothing have a bright future.

"They all believed that after the dragon race was wiped out, the hybrids who possessed superhuman strength would take over the power of the world. Without the checks and balances of the potential power of pure-blooded dragons, the hybrids could devote all their energy to ruling humanity."

"To put it bluntly, they've already begun preparing to divide up territories by family units," Angers said with a hint of sarcasm. "Those hidden behind the scenes are the real politicians. Politicians always think about building a new world before the war is even over, just like how the U.S. and Soviet Russia were already considering how to divide up spheres of influence in Europe before they even captured Berlin."

“I’m not surprised they think that way, because that’s just who they are,” the Night’s Watchman said. “I’m just curious about what your purpose is.”

For so many years, you have been the most effective representative of the secret party. You have devoted yourself to the 'dragon slaying' and died for it. You have no family or children, no property, and spend money like a playboy who lives only a day.

"But you're so old and near death, why do you insist on this?"

“You are one of the few people who understand me, why ask when you already know?” Angers downed his drink in one gulp.

Life is full of disappointments, but you can only tell others about two or three of them. Perhaps this saying is the best description of his life.

It was the Night's Watchman's turn to sigh. "You are the undertaker, the undertaker of the dragons. So you have always dressed in black, with a folding knife in your sleeve, and for a hundred years you have thought of killing, no, slaying dragons every single moment."

You're the kind of person who holds grudges. Anyone who crosses your line and becomes your enemy faces certain death, unless they kill you first.

“These words were correct in the past.” Ang Zhe nodded.

In other words, we're wrong now. Perhaps, for the dragon race, the real funeral director should be that young man.

He clearly didn't show much hatred towards the dragon race, yet he was more enthusiastic about slaying dragons than anyone else, which made him truly unpredictable and hard to understand.

"And what is your purpose? It's something old friends should do from time to time." Angers turned to look at the Night's Watchman.

The Night's Watchman turned his head away and scratched his head, his mouth twisted like a war god's, "I won't tell you... because I don't like lying."

"You used to always use sweet talk to women."

"What part of you resembles a woman at all?"

I don't want to tell you bad jokes.

Angers placed the empty wine glass on a stack of DVDs with adult content on the cover. "The results of the White King's resolution were just reported to the Board of Trustees, and the Board of Trustees is about to send an investigation team. This shows that they do not trust my handling of this matter, and I do not trust their judgment either."

Whether it's because Cao Han is the only one who knows the truth about the White King's reawakening, or because he is currently the only person who has killed a pure-blooded dragon of Dragon King level or above, I don't want the school board to expel him from this campus.

Among the professors, only Schneider would definitely support Cao Han. He controls the executive department, but his influence isn't enough; those old monsters like the department heads…”

“You yourself are an old monster,” the Night Watchman muttered under his breath.

Angers ignored him. "I will still respect the board of directors' opinion. The only one who can help me keep Cao Han is you. You are my friend of many years. I need your answer. No need for many words, just one word."

"You're just forcing me to take a stand..." The Night Watchman slumped in his recliner, arms crossed, and sighed, his belly protruding.

"One word: Yes or No." Angren's voice turned stern. He knew it was useless to beg this person. This person looked slovenly and unreliable, but he had his own judgment on everything.

“I remember it was my idea to promote Chinese education in the college,” the Night Watchman said slowly.

Angers was taken aback.

“Everyone in this academy speaks Chinese so we can develop our ‘Eastern strategy’ for slaying dragons in China, and in Chinese, ‘bad’ has two characters,” the Night Watchman tilted his head, looking at Angers, “but if you want a one-word answer, I can only say…”

After a long silence, a barely perceptible smile flickered across Angers' lips. "Do you really have to keep me in suspense like this?"

I remember Chu Tianjiao mentioning in his report that Cao Han's spoils included a sacred site that continuously produces a liquid with a taste similar to fine wine. Such alchemical equipment is truly rare, my old friend.

“I also wanted to say ‘get lost’…” the Night Watchman waved his hand, “but I’m a cultured man, and such a word could never come out of my mouth, so I’ll say ‘okay’ instead.”

Let me make this clear: I'm not saying this because of any Holy Grail!

"You're just trying to hide something, like you'd die if you didn't tell a lame joke." Angers picked up his umbrella and was about to leave; he had successfully achieved his goal.

The moment he pushed open the door, he heard the Night Watchman's leisurely voice behind him, "Hey, friend, you know what you're doing, right?"

“Of course.” Angers did not turn around.

"I admit, I dislike the board of directors, that bunch of decadent old fogies and politicians full of intrigue!"

They may abuse the power of Kassel College for their own benefit, but their goal is to establish an era of hybrids, a completely new era.

But one thing remains true: their ultimate goal is still construction, even if their lust for power is somewhat excessive. And you, my friend, you're sending the dragons to their doom!

If there truly is a land of the dead, I believe you would send nuclear bombs there to destroy those ancient, magnificent ruins. As fire rains down from the sky, you would light a cigar and pour a glass of champagne to commemorate your friends, the earliest members of the Lionheart Society, whose names are now merely on a large tombstone.

"If the dragons knew that their fate of revival was altered by killing a few half-breeds and incurring the enmity of a nearly damned old man, they would regret it to the core." He paused. "Angers, all you want is destruction. You don't care about what happens after destruction. You're on the verge of madness. Who do you think you are? A vengeful goddess?"

Angers stood at the door, holding an umbrella, raindrops falling from its edge. He gazed at the iron-gray sky, seemingly lost in thought. The night watchman watched his back; his old friend's figure now appeared blurred and distant.

“You’re wrong,” Angers said in a low voice.

"Oh?" The Night's Watchman was taken aback. "You mean... besides slaying the dragon, you have some other plan in your stubborn mind?"

“What I mean is…you’re wrong, it’s a male god.” Angers slammed the door shut behind him. “Don’t think you’re the only one who can tell lame jokes.”

"So, Vengeful God, do you really know what's hidden beneath that young man's skin? Have you considered that he might not be genuinely helping you slay the dragon, but rather using us to settle scores?" The Night Watchman tore off his last pretense and brought up the issue the two had been avoiding for so long.

"You know better than I do that even if one half can temporarily evolve to three-quarters or even four-fifths, it will never be greater than one!"

Throughout history, anything greater than one has always relied on countless halves added together. You're playing with fire, my old friend!

Nicolas Flamel stepped forward and grabbed Angers by the collar, his heartbroken eyes looking particularly ferocious against the backdrop of the rain.

Angers didn't even resist, just quietly watching his old friend, and then he burst out laughing. He regretted drinking that glass of wine too early; to have a true friend in life is to drink a big cup of wine together.

“As you said, one-half can never be greater than one, but compared to several uncertain numbers of one, isn’t a certain one better?” Angers raised his hand and patted his old friend’s hand a few times, his voice terribly low. “Anyway, for a desperate gambler, nothing is off-limits, isn’t it?”

In this game of roulette, my revolver was loaded with six bullets from the very beginning; the outcome was decided the moment I pulled the trigger!

Chapter 102 Philosopher's Stone Bullet

Chanakare is a major port city located on the Dardanelles Strait in Türkiye.

Meanwhile, 40 kilometers south of the city lies the site of the Trojan War in Greek mythology, attracting tens of thousands of interested tourists every year.

On this same day, the city welcomed a series of "important figures" to the stage.

Frost stepped out of his Rolls-Royce and walked impatiently into a local pub full of regional charm.

The damned difference between a acting head of the family and the head of the family lies in that word "acting"!

So much so that just moments before, Frost was in a sun-drenched castle outside Rome, Italy, enjoying a traditional Italian breakfast while entertaining bankers from all over the world, chatting and laughing along the way.

These people effortlessly completed a $220 billion investment plan while chatting and laughing, as easily as selecting $220 worth of goods in a supermarket.

In fact, the investment project was a natural gas mine located on the seabed, and the Gattuso family successfully obtained the mining rights through their efforts.

This is an unprecedentedly rich mine, with estimated annual mining revenue bringing up to $70 billion in tax revenue to the local area. The Gattuso family's returns would be several times that amount, and bankers from all over the world are like sharks smelling blood, eager to invest in this project and get a share of the profits.

This is how real big business deals should be negotiated!

According to Frost Gattuso, only small business owners bang their fists on the table and yell during negotiations; true power holders finalize deals in calm and collected conversations.

The power he wielded at that moment made him so engrossed that he forgot the word "agent".

Just at this time.

The secretary, dressed in black and a white shirt, suddenly appeared behind him: "Sir, there is important news."

Frost chuckled, unconcerned. "Percy, there's no important news while we're having breakfast. The most important thing on the table is 'cheese!'"

He didn't want to be rude to the bankers. Did the dignified head of the Gattuso family need to deal with things while eating breakfast?

The world should revolve around the powerful and wealthy, and even if the world were to be destroyed, it should pause while Frost has breakfast.

However, Percy showed no sign of backing down; instead, he leaned closer to Frost's ear and whispered something in his ear.

"Angers, that son of a bitch, a lunatic!" Frost slammed his fist on the table, the sudden force overturning many dishes. He got up from his seat and hurriedly left without even explaining to the bankers.

"It's something urgent, a message from the head of the Pompeii family. I'm very sorry to have disturbed your meal." Percy bowed slightly and then followed Frost away.

The bankers were left looking at each other in silence, unable to understand what could possibly cause the acting head of the Gattuso family to lose his composure like this. The only thing they could understand was the mad, bastard-like lunatic that Frost had just cursed out in a near-hysterical outburst...

Everyone here seems to be a familiar face.

Once inside the soundproof office, Frost finally erupted, his roar as loud as a jet engine: "How could he stop our investigation team from entering the Kassel College? Does Angers want to turn the college into his private property? This violates the oath of the Secret Service!"

“Every year, the family tries to remove the principal at the school board meeting, which is tantamount to a public break with Angers. This time, Angers is leaving us no room for maneuver.”

Angers is the rector of Kassel College, and in principle, the college falls under his jurisdiction and has the right to prevent unidentified individuals from entering.

“But the investigation team was sent by us, the school board members! The school board had already notified Angers about this matter in advance! We are exercising the rights that school board members should have!”

“Although this may displease you,” Pasi paused, “the Pompeii patriarch means that he hopes you can make the trip yourself.”

Frost was struck dumb: "Me? The acting head of the Gattuso family is making a personal trip?! Where to? Kassel College?"

“Chanakare.” Pasi’s lips parted slightly.