Dragon Clan: Force me to be reborn and slay dragons

Chapter 407 Even in the face of the ugliest death, one should maintain the dignity of life.

Deep within the Kassel College branch base, in an interrogation room isolated from all outside sounds, the air was as cold as a seafood freezer at RT-Mart.

The smoke from Cohiba cigars swirls slowly, like incense burning in a ritual.

Angers sat behind a mahogany table, slowly arranging a set of exquisite porcelain tea utensils.

Hot water is poured into the cup, the tea leaves unfurl, releasing a faint aroma—the Ceylon black tea I often drank in Cambridge when I was young.

He somehow acquired an old-fashioned gramophone, and the vinyl records emitted melancholic blues melodies that effortlessly transported people back to the glorious days of the early 20th century.

Opposite him, Friedrich sat in a specially made metal chair, his head bowed, the blood on his face wiped away, revealing wrinkles and wounds.

The endless, extreme fear of being chased and torn apart by Deadpool and Kamaitachi in Nibelungen was erased. He only remembered being subdued by Lu Mingfei, who suddenly came to his door, and trying to escape after waking up, but unfortunately bumping into the icy boy who came back to pick him up and the flat-chested girl who looked cute but was extremely ferocious when she fought.

A blurry and painful mixed doubles match between two boys, who really took advantage of his old age and weakness, showing no mercy with their punches, kicks, and knife-wielding attacks. Even in his unconscious state, he still experienced waves of phantom pain.

When he woke up again, he found himself in this place, facing the figure he had been hiding for a whole century.

He struggled to lift his head, his slightly cloudy eyes, still clotted with blood, looking across at the other side through his disheveled white hair.

The old man, who was about the same age as him and had just as many wrinkles, was wearing a black suit that he used to think was old-fashioned. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his face still vaguely showed the outline of the Cambridge folding knife youth from a hundred years ago, the dazzling new star of the Lionheart Society.

Time and hatred have etched too many marks on that face, turning the youthful spirit of the past into an unfathomable majesty and coldness.

Friedrich's throat bobbed. He knew who this was—his old friend and classmate whom he dared not recall, yet who haunted his nightmares every night—Hilbert Jean Angers.

Angers didn't look at him, but focused on making tea, just like he used to entertain visiting teachers and classmates.

Friedrich looked at him, every cell in his body urging him to run away, but how could he possibly escape?

Although he was sitting in a specially made metal interrogation chair, with no shackles on his hands or feet, Angers seemed to be just as unguarded towards him as he had been back then.

But he knew that this was a manifestation of absolute confidence.

Angers is the world's most powerful assassin; no one can outrun him, nor can anyone outrun the blade in his hand.

Angers pushed a steaming cup of black tea toward Friedrich, and then a small dish of delicate almond cookies.

"Do you remember, Friedrich?"

Angers spoke, his voice calm and gentle, as if old friends were reminiscing, without a trace of hostility:
“Back in Cambridge, after each dissection experiment, you always liked to take me out for afternoon tea, saying that you wanted to use black tea and desserts to dilute the smell of formaldehyde and death.”

Friedrich's body, which had been trembling almost imperceptibly, miraculously stopped upon hearing these words. He picked up his scalding hot tea, took a sip, and replied in a slightly hoarse, dry voice:

"Even in the face of the ugliest death, one should maintain a dignified life."

“I really like this saying: ‘A person has only one destiny.’” Angers took a sip of tea, his gaze seemingly drifting towards the distant past.
"I always thought our destiny was to stand side by side at the pinnacle of the dragon-slaying cause."

"Back then, Menek, the chief, Ash, Tiger, Shanyan, Ghost... all of us believed in 'I for everyone, everyone for me,' and dreamed of doing something great."

Those were innocent and beautiful years, weren't they?

Friedrich's teacup suddenly trembled, the pale red tea churning and crashing against the cup, as if the warm memories of the past had turned into a red-hot iron, scalding his very soul.

"Then you came to China." Angers' tone remained calm, but the content took a sharp turn: "The Elders entrusted you with an important task, everyone in the Lionheart Society saw you off, and Shan Yan spent the whole night giving you instructions."

"And then? Friedrich."

He put down his teacup, withdrew his gaze, and for the first time, his silver-gray eyes looked directly and undisguisedly at the traitor opposite him. There was no longer the tenderness of reminiscence in those eyes, but rather a naked killing intent that had been brewing for a century.
"And then what did you do?"
What did you send back to the Kassel estate?

“I…I had no choice! Angers! Believe me!” Friedrich tried in vain to explain, his voice dry and hoarse. “I didn’t mean to, I was forced to, I just…wanted to live.”

"Survive?" Ange's lips curled into a smile that was hard to tell whether it was mockery or cruelty. He slowly stood up, and the temperature in the entire room seemed to drop instantly.

The terrifying killing intent, suppressed for a century and formed from mountains of corpses and seas of blood, surged forth in an overwhelming torrent.

He was still impeccably dressed in a suit, with an elegant demeanor, but the look in his eyes had completely shed all pretense of civilization, leaving only the most primal and cruel desire for revenge.

Those who know Hilbert Jean Angers know that beneath his elegant gentlemanly exterior lies a most ruthless vengeful demon.

“Of course you want to live.” Angers looked at him coldly. “You have never been a dragon slayer. You aspire to be a nobleman like Teacher Gambet, to be among the upper class. You want a decent life, not a grotesque death.”

Friedrich was so shocked by Angers's palpable murderous intent that his heart nearly stopped, but he still gritted his teeth and tried to justify himself:

“Angers, you have no idea what I encountered in China.”

The intelligence was faulty; someone used a Kamaitachi to counteract my Kamaitachi. I didn't notice anything unusual and was immediately taken into custody upon arriving at the transaction location. After that, I had no control over what happened.

"I'm just an archaeologist. I don't have your strength. I can't fight my way out of a group of dragons and dead minions with a knife like you!"

“This is not a reason for you to betray us.” Angers was not confused by his accusations.

Even though Friedrich's personal freedom was restricted, only he knew the telegram code for communicating with the Kassel College, and only insiders knew the address of the Kassel Manor and the Lionheart Society's ring mark.

Even Lu Shanyan, the only Chinese member of the team, was a staunch revolutionary, and no one longed to see the moment of China's restoration more than him.

He was a warrior who fought the Dragon King to the last moment, a dragon slayer worthy of respect. Angers would rather believe that he had inadvertently leaked the information than suspect that he was a traitor.

Friedrich fell silent, staring at Angers with his mouth agape, but he couldn't utter a single word of defense.

“You weren’t like this before, Friedrich.” Angers’ voice carried a hint of regret. “You had your own pride, and even when you lost to me in a debate, you never stooped to sophistry to save face.”

Upon hearing this, Friedrich's eyes dimmed abruptly, like ashes after a fire had burned out. He remained silent for a long time before finally speaking in a self-deprecating tone, almost utterly listless:
"The old Friedrich is long dead, he died that summer. Now I am nothing but a shell clinging to life."

Angers looked at Friedrich, who had suddenly lost his will to live and given up on arguing, and did not believe that he was truly repentant. It was more likely that Lu Mingfei had done something to him before.

After all, his body had been twitching abnormally since the beginning, as if his nerves had memorized some kind of pain that he couldn't erase, repeatedly reminding the body's owner that the pain was still ongoing.

He pulled a folding knife from the inside pocket of his suit jacket; the folding knife, famous throughout the world of mixed-race people, slid out of his sleeve and was held in his hand.

It was an old-fashioned large folding knife with an exquisite copper-inlaid wooden handle and a slightly curved blade. It was forged from extremely rare patterned steel, and in ancient times, weapons forged from such precious meteorite iron were only owned by heroes and emperors.

But it was not unfamiliar to Friedrich.

“My original knife broke that night. This one was reforged later, using the Menek family’s ancestral Yatkan longsword as the raw material.”

Angers gently stroked the blade, his tone calm: "Menek perished along with the dragon, and his family heirloom sword shattered. The people who arrived later collected the pieces, and after I awoke, I had it forged from the fragments of the blade."

The blade reflected a cold light under the soft lamplight.

“Tell me, Friedrich, everything that happened back then.”

How were you controlled? How did you establish yourself in Beijing under the identity of 'Lin Fenglong'? Who have you contacted over the years? What deals have you made? Tell me everything you know, down to the smallest detail.

"Considering our past as classmates, I will give you a quick death."

Friedrich knew he had no chance of survival; the palpable killing intent in Angers' eyes said it all.

Besides, he had long since given up any hope of survival. With a hoarse voice, he began to give a broken account, only asking for a quick death.

From being controlled by a mysterious person to being kidnapped to the old site of Tongwan City to excavate materials, to running an antique business in the capital area as a cover, and secretly handling some shady items and intelligence for certain forces... from a rising star of the secret society to a rat in the gutter.

Angers listened expressionlessly, occasionally asking a question or two to compare and verify things he had heard about or had been indirectly involved in.

Finally, Angers' voice rang out again, cold as iron: "Then, what about the Gattuso family? What are your ties with them?"

“They are my regular customers.” Perhaps having received Angers’ promise and knowing he could leave without a care in the world, Friedrich was now somewhat reckless and ready to throw caution to the wind.
"There is an old Chinese saying, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Although I am a traitor to the Peruvian Party, and the Gattuso family is one of the mainstays of the Peruvian Party, it is clear that they do not like you very much."

You knew my whereabouts a long time ago, and you knew you'd been looking for me, but you kept it a secret and even helped my business a lot.

"who."

"Frost, you are the biggest obstacle on the Board of Trustees." Since he was going to die anyway, Friedrich naturally hoped to drag more people down with him, and even his words just now were tainted with a lot of embellishment.

If Angers compares what he heard with what Lu Mingfei heard, he will find some discrepancies.

But it's pretty much the same, since Angers' existence is bound to hinder the interests of many people.

After recounting what he knew, embellishing his account, Friedrich seemed to have exhausted his last bit of strength. He slumped into his chair, closed his eyes, and awaited his final judgment.

"That's all I know, Angers, just give me a quick death."

A deathly silence fell over the interrogation room.

Angers looked at him for a long time.

Then, he slowly walked around the iron table and step by step walked up to Friedrich.

"Feeling good?" Angers' voice was as soft as a sigh, yet as heavy as a mountain:

"Friedrich, have you forgotten how many people died at the Kassel estate?"

The next second, a flash of light appeared!
Instead of piercing the heart directly, they precisely severed Friedrich's right ear.

It hurt, but not terribly. Friedrich didn't cry out in pain, nor did he even try to cover his wound with his hand. His eyes, however, became filled with fear and disbelief.
"Angers, how could you break your promise!"

Angers is a man of his word, a man who lives by his promises—this is the consensus of all Lionheart members.

But now, instead of giving Friedrich a quick death as he had promised, Angers showed signs of wanting to torture him to death by a thousand cuts. How could Friedrich not be terrified?

What grudge could you possibly have that would warrant you making an exception for me?!

“I promise to give you a quick death, so I’ll save that last strike for last.” Angers suddenly laughed, a laugh as unrestrained as a young man’s, but his attack would show no mercy.
"This stab was done by Nurse Mariana."

Before he could finish speaking, the second knife had already fallen!

Friedrich tried to dodge, but even in his prime, he was no match for Angers, let alone now that he had been out of practice for many years.
Another piece of flesh and blood torn apart!
"This knife belongs to Nurse Sophia."

The third knife!

The fourth knife!

The fifth cut!

……

Each time Angers swung his knife, a part of Friedrich's body would fall to the ground. Unable to endure the excruciating pain any longer, Friedrich would tumble off the metal chair in an attempt to escape, but he would be pinned down by Angers and unable to move, forced to watch helplessly as the body part detached from his torso.

In the nightmare created by Lu Mingfei, only the first generation of the Lionheart Society and the Elders subjected him to extreme torture, but Angers' anger was obviously not that small. He wanted to take the lives of everyone in the manor at that time, including the maids and grooms, and make them pay for it on Friedrich.

Angers' knife swings are not fast, but they carry a cruel sense of ritual, which strangely echoes the background music.

Each slash precisely avoided vital points, each slash accompanied by a name. Blood stained his hands and splattered onto his leather shoes, yet he remained oblivious, as if immersed in a dark opera that only he could understand, a tribute to the past.

"This cut was for Pluto (Menek's hound)."

"This cut was for Sophie (Viscount Charlotte's horse)."

Friedrich's limbs were broken, his screams gradually weakened, leaving only unconscious twitching, and his pupils began to dilate.

Angers didn't stop. He flipped the traitor over, pulled out an adrenaline shot from his pocket, and injected it directly into Friedrich, forcing him to stand up and continue the torture.

The white-haired old man's face was expressionless, except for his silver-gray eyes, which burned with the fire of revenge.

He read those names word by word, feeling no joy of revenge, only the heaviness of having his wounds reopened.

After an unknown amount of time, even Angers' voice had become hoarse, but Friedrich on the ground remained conscious, watching his former friend continue to swing his knife at him:

"This cut is for the cigarette ash."

"This strike is for the ghost."

"This strike is for Yamahiko."

"..."

"This stab was for Professor Gambet."

"This stab was for... Menek."

In the very end, Friedrich was on the verge of dying from blood loss, with one foot already in the gates of hell, but Angers stopped him.

“The final blow.” He straightened up, holding the knife in mid-air, the tip pointing directly at Friedrich’s heart.

"For those who can't come back."

With that, he released his grip, letting the folding knife fall freely, piercing Friedrich's chest without hesitation and penetrating his still-beating heart.

"Hah...hah..." Friedrich's voice was hoarse, and he could not make a sound at all. He could only stare at Angers with bloodshot eyes. Finally, as his life force was drained, he gradually became dull and lifeless.

After a long silence, the interrogation room fell into a deathly stillness, and finally, only a faint sigh could be heard.

(End of this chapter)