Lu Mingfei, become the King of Elden!

Chapter 358 The final conclusion
"Twenty years old?" Angers chuckled. "Menek was only a few years older than him when he became the leader of the Secret Party."

The school board member, riding a bicycle, stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Speaking of which, Lu Shanyan did indeed leave his mark on the history of the Secret Party."

“But that was a hundred years ago!” Frost exclaimed, waving his cane excitedly. “The position of Elder of the Secret Society has always been reserved for those who have made outstanding contributions to the world of hybrids!”

Lu Mingfei sat quietly in place, his golden eyes gleaming subtly in the candlelight.

He spoke softly:
"Chairman Frost, you don't consider slaying the Bronze and Fire King to be an 'outstanding contribution,' do you?"

His tone was calm, yet it left Frost speechless for a moment.

Lisa slowly rang the copper bell:

“I support this nomination. With the Dragon Kings awakening one after another, we need fresh blood.”

“I agree,” the school board member on his bicycle raised his hand. “It’s better than some old guys who just hide in the meeting room and point fingers.”

The old man, chasing after the beaded string, slowly opened his eyes:
“Lu Shanyan’s descendants are indeed qualified.”

Frost chuckled coldly, took a stack of photos from his suit pocket, and distributed them to the board members present, as if he had prepared this in advance. In the candlelight, Lu Mingfei's figure underwater in the Three Gorges was exceptionally clear in the photos—his skin was covered with fine dragon scales, and his golden eyes burned like lava.

“I don’t object to young people rising to high positions,” Frost’s voice was icy and chilling, “but I am also a member of the Secret Society, and I am willing to give my life for the cause of slaying dragons. According to the Abrahamic bloodline contract…”

He paused deliberately, allowing his words to slowly resonate in the minds of each board member.

The air inside the stone chamber suddenly froze, as if it had dropped to freezing point.

The candlelight flickered uneasily, casting shifting shadows on the faces of each school board member.

Frost clutched the stack of photographs tightly, while Angers sat leisurely in his seat, and Lu Mingfei continued to casually examine his fingertips, as if this debate concerning his fate had nothing to do with him.

This almost defiant composure caused Frost's face to turn from pale to red, and his breathing became heavy.

Just as tensions were about to rise, Lu Mingfei suddenly turned his head slightly, his gaze turning to the tightly closed stone door.

He sensed a powerful energy fluctuation rapidly approaching, its intensity almost matching that of Angers.

Could this be a backup plan arranged by the principal? He wondered to himself.

Although Angers did not sense the fluctuation, he keenly noticed the subtle changes in Lu Mingfei's expression.

He suddenly stood up.

boom!
The heavy stone door was suddenly pushed open.

He was a rather old man, standing there like a thick limestone tombstone. A faint light shone through from behind him, illuminating his skin, and his hands were covered with fine white scales.

"Beowulf! My old friend!"

Angers spread his arms wide, stepping forward with the air of an old-fashioned gentleman, as if to give him a hug.

The old man named Beowulf dodged to the side, his voice as cold and hard as iron:
“I did not come for you, Angers.”

“I know.” Angers withdrew his hand, a calm smile still on his lips.

Beowulf, the "Dragonblooder." Before the Industrial Revolution, slaying dragons was an extremely dangerous undertaking. The Secret Society could only rely on their own bloodline, alchemy, and the dragon-slaying swords passed down from their ancestors. It was a tragic yet glorious era. Members of the Secret Society, dressed in floor-length black robes and carrying candlesticks, would meet in heavily fortified bunkers, the depths of which lay the bloodstained remains of dragons.

Beowulf was one of the most illustrious surnames of that era.

The long poem "Beowulf" in Norse mythology is based on the history of this family. In that long poem of 3000 lines, the hero Beowulf broke off the arm of the man-eating monster Golem with amazing strength, and then used a mysterious greatsword with a melting blade to cut off the head of Golem's mother. His last achievement was slaying a dragon, although at the moment of killing the dragon, he was also pierced in the neck by the dragon's sharp teeth and poisoned to death by the deadly poison in the dragon's saliva.

According to the Secret Society's "true history," Beowulf was not a single person, but an ancient dragon-slaying family. The three great feats were accomplished not by one Beowulf, but by three Beowulfs, from grandfather to grandson. Their opponents were dragons and the inhuman Deadpool.

And the dragons who perished at the hands of the Beowulfs were far from few. For millennia, the Beowulf family had been the most steadfast, courageous, and ruthless dragon slayers. Adhering to an ancient family tradition, they fed each newborn boy a drop of crystallized dragon blood—a highly poisonous substance. Only those infants who passed this test of toxicity were deemed useful by the family. The Beowulf family was as cruel to their own offspring as they were to the dragons, thus forging dragon-slaying warriors of steel.

Beowulf of this generation is over 130 years old, and is considered a contemporary of Angers. All the school board members are just children in front of him.

In fact, Beowulf had not appeared at this conference table for nearly a century, because he was fiercely opposed to the establishment of the Academy by the Secret Party.

"Mr. Beowulf."

The school board members bowed in unison, and even the two youngest girls in the room had heard of Beowulf's name.

Beowulf's golden pupils slowly swept across the entire arena, finally settling on Lu Mingfei. His gaze lingered on the young face for a long time, as if an invisible force was colliding in the air.

Frost rushed forward:

“Mr. Beowulf, regarding this young man’s lineage.”

“Shut up.” Beowulf didn’t even look at him. “I’ve lived for two centuries, and it’s not your place to tell me how to judge a warrior’s worth.”

He walked heavily to Lu Mingfei, his white scales gleaming coldly in the candlelight. The two looked at each other silently, one as aged as an ancient pine, the other young yet weathered by life.

Beowulf stared intently at Lu Mingfei, his wrinkled yet still sharp eyes seeming to see right through him.

"You can go berserk?"

The old man suddenly asked, his voice hoarse but carrying a strong sense of authority.

Lu Mingfei looked at Angers, who simply shrugged indifferently.

He turned his gaze back and answered calmly:
"Yes."

Beowulf's hands, covered in white scales, suddenly clenched, his knuckles cracking.

He nodded heavily, a smile that was almost sinister appearing on his face:

"It seems that not all those trained by the academy are cowards. Very good, this is how dragon slaying should be done!"

He turned abruptly, his white scales gleaming coldly in the candlelight, his icy gaze sweeping over each member of the school board:
“If it grows scales, it’s a dangerous hybrid.” He slowly raised his hands, which were covered in dragon scales. “Should I have pried all these scales off one by one with a folding knife before I came?”

The stone chamber was completely silent.

Frost opened his mouth, but ultimately no sound came out.

Beowulf snorted coldly, his voice echoing between the ancient stone walls:
"On behalf of the Senate, I agree with Angers' proposal."

This statement definitively put an end to the debate.

(End of this chapter)