Lu Mingfei, become the King of Elden!

Chapter 363 For the New Era

Angers, of course, did not forget this procedure.

He simply did not expect that the proposal would receive unanimous pre-approval even before it had been formally submitted to the Senate.

This was against the rules, but it demonstrated an undeniable will.

After a long while, Angers finally looked away from the signatures and turned to Beowulf, his eyes sharp:

"They...want to return to the center of power?"

“Hmph,” Beowulf sneered, his laughter sounding particularly desolate and mocking in the rain. “Those guys, like sharks smelling blood, rushed to sign their names, urging me to get this ‘gift’ to you as soon as possible.”

They missed wave after wave of change, watching Kassel College rise to prominence, watching Angers become the leader… Clearly, they didn't want to miss this opportunity again, didn't want to miss this 'S-class' opportunity that could lead hybrids into an unknown future.

Angers swirled the remaining wine in his glass, his tone returning to its usual calm, yet carrying a subtle hint of coldness:

“Then they may be disappointed. Mingfei… he is not what they imagine. He is not anyone’s pawn, nor is he a tool that can be bound by ancient surnames.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beowulf said indifferently, as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him. “They are just some ugly and stale thoughts that are not fit for serious discussion, coveting the so-called ‘meritorious service’ and trying to get a share of the pie in the new order.”

Angers tilted his head back and downed the last of the whisky in his glass in one gulp, the spicy liquid sliding down his throat.

He put down his glass, turned his head, and stared intently at Beowulf:

"But, my friend..."

His voice was soft, yet carried immense weight:

"Your name is here too."

“Can I assume,” Angers asked slowly, “that you are the same as them?”

Normally, given Beowulf's fiery temper, he would have been enraged by such a blunt question.

But at this moment, he was unusually silent. The air inside the carriage seemed to freeze, with only the monotonous sound of raindrops hitting the roof.

Beowulf took a deep breath, and a profound weariness, a kind of timeless exhaustion, flashed across his scaly and wrinkled face.

“I’m old, Angers,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “I’m 130 years old. My great-grandson was born last month.”

He paused, as if recalling the joy brought by that new life, then his tone took on a complex tinge:

“My grandson, the child’s father, knelt down and begged me… begged me not to let this newborn baby drink the dragon’s blood.”

Angers raised an eyebrow; this reaction was indeed unexpected.
"Oh? Let me guess, you must have been furious and reprimanded him for betraying the family's thousand-year-old tradition?"

Beowulf slowly shook his head, his white scales gleaming faintly in the dim light.

“No,” he uttered a heavy word, “I agree.”

Angers' pupils contracted slightly, genuinely surprised. Beowulf, the dragon-blooded leader, the family leader known for his cruel family rules and who firmly believed that only through the tempering of dragon blood could true warriors be born, had actually... agreed?

Beowulf didn't look at Angers; his gaze was fixed on the world outside the car window, blurred by the torrential rain, as if he were looking at his long and bloody life.

"My era, Angers, the era of black robes, candlesticks, and bunkers, is over."

His voice carried an almost liberated calm, yet also contained a bottomless sense of desolation. "Perhaps it's time to see where this different path you've chosen will lead."

"As for that document..." He turned his head, his golden pupils meeting Ying Re's scrutinizing gaze, "Just consider it an old man on his deathbed, his last... and only investment."

"I'm betting this young man can bring something... different."

Angers fell silent.

Looking at his old rival and partner with whom he had fought, cooperated, and stood shoulder to shoulder for over a century, he felt for the first time so clearly the irresistible power of the tide of time.

Faced with this torrent, even the most stubborn rock will eventually have its edges worn away.

He picked up the bottle, refilled Beowulf's empty glass, and poured himself a little as well. "For the new era?"

Angers raised his glass, his tone complex.

Beowulf raised his glass and gently clinked it against his, producing a crisp sound.

"To end it."

He said in a low voice, then downed the wine in one gulp.

The rain outside the car window grew increasingly violent, pounding heavily against the roof and windows, as if trying to completely engulf the sturdy sedan.

The brief moment of tranquility inside the car was completely shattered by the intensifying rain.

Just as Angers put down his wine glass and was about to say something, his encrypted phone in his pocket began to vibrate deeply and continuously.

Angers' eyes narrowed slightly; communication at this time usually meant an emergency.

He gestured for Beowulf to wait a moment and quickly answered the phone.

"headmaster."

Professor Schneider's hoarse and urgent voice, like a broken bellows, came from the other end of the phone, with the sound of keyboard typing in the background, clearly indicating an emergency.

"explain."

Angers spoke succinctly, his body unconsciously leaning slightly forward.

“Lu Mingfei’s signal,” Schneider said gravely, “disappeared suddenly about an hour ago near an alley in the eastern part of Portofino Port.”

"Disappeared?" Angers' brows furrowed instantly. "Is it signal jamming, or equipment malfunction?"

“None of them!” Schneider emphasized. “Norma mobilized all possible surveillance and satellite resources in the vicinity, conducted seventeen rounds of cross-scanning and backtracking analysis, and found no trace of him.”

We have just urgently dispatched two operations officers stationed closest to Portofino to conduct an on-site investigation of the coordinates where the signal was last observed.

They reported...the scene was deserted except for the torrential rain and puddles. No signs of battle, no bloodstains, no residual energy...nothing at all. It was as if...as if he had never been there at all.

"A small alleyway vanished into thin air..."

Angers repeated in a low voice.

His golden eyes suddenly lit up as he abruptly looked out the window at the torrential rain.

"Elemental Turbulence!"

"Yes, it's elemental turbulence."

A lazy voice suddenly cut into the encrypted communication channel, accompanied by a crackling electrical noise, as if forcibly taking over the signal.

He is the Night Watchman, the Vice-President of Kassel College, Nicholas Flamel.

“Something—most likely a dragon, and of a high rank—has forcibly stirred up the wind and water elements in the area near Portofino through this damned downpour.”

Like using a key to unlock a lock, a small opening was briefly created, establishing a 'domain' that wouldn't last long.

"Nibelungen!"

Angers and Beowulf uttered the word almost simultaneously, their eyes meeting, both seeing the chill in each other's eyes.

“The possibility is extremely high,” the Night Watchmen affirmed their guess. “The opponent is a master, with terrifyingly precise control over the elements.”

A disturbance of this scale would normally be enough to trigger a small-scale meteorological disaster, but he contained the energy extremely well, manifesting only as a slightly heavier rain... The core energy fluctuations were almost perfectly concealed. If Norma hadn't been monitoring global anomalous elemental activity, and if we hadn't used the 'result' of Lu Mingfei's sudden signal annihilation to deduce the 'cause,' we would have had little chance of detecting it.

(End of this chapter)