Lu Mingfei, become the King of Elden!

Chapter 160

Click!

A crisp click of a camera shutter sounded beside the cardinal.

When she turned around, she saw her own captain, a rugged-looking man with a stubble beard who looked forty but was actually only twenty-five, furtively holding up his iPhone, which was supposedly "friendly reinforced" by the equipment department and could be used as a brick or an EMP grenade. The camera was pointed at a "historic scene" in the distant ruins amidst the torrential rain.

"Tsk."

The captain clicked his tongue in annoyance, his fingers flying across the screen in an attempt to cover up his crime:

"This crappy phone, I forgot to turn off the shutter sound! Did those lunatics in the equipment department solder the mute button on when they modified the circuit?"

Red Sparrow's lips twitched violently as she looked at the captain who usually carried an alchemical revolver and shouted "Let's perish together," but now acted like a professional paparazzi leader. A huge sense of absurdity welled up within her.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and asked in a low voice:
"Boss...you...you with your thick eyebrows and big eyes, when did you start shipping the 'Ice Queen and God Lu' couple? I never would have guessed, you've been hiding your true colors!"

Upon hearing this, a barely perceptible blush appeared on the captain's rugged face, though it could also be from the cold in the downpour.

He swiftly slipped his phone back into the inside pocket of his tactical vest, the movement so fast it created a gust of wind. He lowered his voice and whispered to Red Sparrow:

"You know Fingel, right? That unscrupulous head of the news department, the actual controller of the campus gossip section."

The red finches nodded.

Who in Kassel doesn't know Fingel's name? He's a ruthless guy who can even dig up photos of the department head's first love!
The captain rubbed his fingers together, made a "you know what I mean" gesture, and flashed a shrewd, capitalist-style smile:
"That guy posted a bounty on the internal channel! Fifty US dollars per photo! High-definition, live photos of Lu Ling that clearly show his expressions and movements."

No limit on the number of bills, fair dealing for all ages, cash payment.

"Payment upon presentation of drawings!"

Red Sparrow sighed, feeling that the Kassel Executive Department's style was heading headlong into an indescribable abyss.

She silently raised her binoculars, pondering:

"Fifty dollars a piece. No limit on the number of pieces. Tsk, what a rip-off! If we report the captain for abusing his position for personal gain, will the disciplinary committee also offer a reward?"

The new team member turned his head blankly:
"Sister Red Sparrow, what are you talking about?"

Redbird looked at him with pity:
"Child, you're too young to understand. We're working to generate revenue for the team."

"What revenue streams?"

The new recruit scratched his head, looking puzzled. He pointed towards the battlefield:

"Speaking of which, shouldn't we go and do some post-war support? Commissioner Lu's condition doesn't look too good."

Their faces turned deathly pale instantly.

"Quickly! Cardinal! Prepare emergency medical support immediately! Notify the outer perimeter team to establish a safe passage! Contact the school medical department immediately!"
-
The main campus of Kassel College, underground, ice cellar.

The temperature here is constant, close to freezing, and the air is so dry that there is not a trace of moisture. The huge space is divided by cold white lights.

On that platform, which was as wide as a small stadium, lay a massive skeleton unlike any other.

It's too big.

Even when cut into segments for easy transport and research, each vertebra resembles a train carriage, the massive ribs curve like arched bridges, and the grotesque skull, though devoid of flesh, still exudes a powerful sense of oppression, with its hollow eye sockets seemingly still burning with embers.

Two people were standing at the edge of the platform.

The Night Watchman, Vice Principal Flamel. He wore a wrinkled coat, but still sported his signature beach shorts. A thick cigar swirls in his hand, and his face is contorted with shock, as if he'd seen a ghost.

He took a deep drag on his cigar, then slowly exhaled a huge smoke ring that trembled and drifted toward the massive skull, as if in homage.

“Holy Mother of Dragons…” the Night's Watchman murmured, his voice echoing in the empty ice cellar.

"This thing is way bigger than the one you brought back back back then, it's a damn second-generation species?"

He shook his head, seemingly unable to find the right words to describe it.

Standing beside him was Hilbert Jean Angers.

The legendary principal of Kassel was still impeccably dressed in a black suit, his silver-gray hair was neatly combed, and his shiny leather shoes reflected a faint light.

He stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, his posture upright as a pine tree, as if he were admiring a fine work of art rather than standing in front of a pile of terrifying dragon bones.

At this moment, his eyes were filled with uncontrollable admiration.

"Yes, my old friend."

His voice was deep, steady, and magnetic, like the sound of a cello echoing in the empty room.

"I haven't seen it either."

His gaze slowly swept over the wound on the skull, clearly smashed and shattered by some terrifying force, and the completely destroyed spine:

"It should have completed its final evolution within the cocoon, becoming an even more terrifying being, but it was awakened by the person behind the scenes and prematurely thrown into the battlefield... How vicious and audacious."

Fortunately, our outstanding student Lu Mingfei stepped forward and completely averted the danger; otherwise, by the time we arrived, Cologne city would probably already be his mattress.

The night watchman fell silent, a rare occurrence, the smoke from his cigar swirling around his furrowed brow and obscuring his usually cynical eyes.

After a long while, he finally spoke:
"Are you sure?"

Angers nodded slowly, his calm voice seemingly carrying a chilling undercurrent:
"Based on the on-site intelligence provided by Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang, combined with the data we looted from the remaining stronghold of 'Dust and Mist Place', as well as the samples of the Dead Servants' remains that Lu Mingfei tore apart at the scene, I personally conducted an analysis, and found that they are almost identical to some of the samples we recovered in the 'Summer Mourning' incident."

Especially the forbidden technology that forcibly catalyzes dragon blood and induces loss of control—its core framework is clearly derived from that last dynasty in the Far East.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if he had pierced through time and seen the battlefield at the Kassel Manor a hundred years ago that had devoured countless comrades.

The watchman stubbed out his cigar sharply beside him with a soft "sizzle." He frowned.

"Angers, what do you plan to do?"

Angers put his hands back in his trouser pockets. He turned around, his face expressionless, except for his eyes, which shone with a golden light like flowing lava—a blazing flame that had burned for a century and had never been extinguished.

"How to do?"

He asked softly, a smile playing on his lips, as if mocking the obvious question.

"There's an old Chinese saying: 'Can revenge still be taken after nine generations? It can be taken after a hundred.' My old friend, how much time has passed? Only a hundred years!"

They didn't even have the patience to wait until the day I died. Did they think I was too old to wield a knife anymore?

Angers' voice was eerily calm:
"Then be prepared to be uprooted and reduced to ashes. Kassel has been silent for too long, and some people seem to have forgotten why this academy was built, and why... it is fighting."

Flamel, the night watchman, looked into Angers' eyes and remained silent for a few seconds. He took out another cigar, put it in his mouth, but didn't light it; he just bit down hard.

"I knew you wouldn't come to me with anything good!"

Angers ignored the watchmen's complaints, simply waving his hand and saying:
"Let's go. From now on, this warehouse will be the private territory of our S-class student. These things are his personal spoils; we're just the supervisors moving the goods. Don't even think about taking them."

The Nibelungen Project needs to be put on the agenda as soon as possible.

(End of this chapter)