Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei's War Journey

Chapter 110 New Words of Power: The Bronze Throne (Seeking monthly votes!)

Lu Mingfei suddenly sat up in bed, the movement so violent that he almost rolled off the bed.

"Hiss—" He gasped, a tearing pain shooting through his right shoulder, as if the bullet imbued with the power of the Word of Judgment was still inside.

He instinctively covered his shoulder, but what he touched was dry fabric, without blood or holes.

He sat there on the bed, panting heavily, his heart pounding. He could still smell the gunpowder and blood in his nostrils, and he could hear the whistling of shells cutting through the sky and the roar of machine guns.

He didn't know how long he sat on the bed before he dazedly stood up, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtains. By then, the sky outside was completely bright, and the sunlight illuminated his dark room.

The sunlight was a bit dazzling, so Lu Mingfei squinted and looked out the window. Outside was a familiar street, and the old-fashioned residential buildings across the street were dusty and gray, with colorful clothes hanging on the clotheslines. Steam was rising from the breakfast stalls on the street corner, and the aroma of fried dough sticks wafted over.

Students in blue and white school uniforms walked by in twos and threes, carrying heavy schoolbags, some whispering to each other, some laughing and playing, and occasionally bicycles would jingle as they passed by.

Everything was incredibly peaceful, exactly as he remembered when he left, except for himself.

He looked down at his hands. His fingers were long and clean, his nails were neatly trimmed, and there was no dirt, no gunpowder residue, and no calluses from holding a gun for a long time. He was still wearing the old T-shirt and sweatpants that he had changed into after being soaked by the sudden downpour.

You're back!

It's true—it's back again!

The overwhelming sense of unreality made Lu Mingfei stare blankly at the scene outside. Just then, he felt something strange happening to his body.

He looked down at his arm, feeling as if a tiny electric current was coursing through his skin. Then, the color of his skin began to change visibly, rapidly shifting from its original paleness to a metallic bluish-gray.

He subconsciously clenched his fist, clearly feeling the surge of power between his knuckles. The muscle fibers under his skin were taut and strengthened like steel wires, filling his entire body with an unprecedented sense of solidity and power.

【Word of Power: Bronze Throne】

【Serial Number: 87】

[The caster strengthens themselves in a very short time; their bones, skin, and muscles are enhanced to varying degrees, allowing them to even block bullets at close range with their bare hands. Their muscle explosiveness and endurance are greatly improved. The caster essentially gains the body of a dragon for a short period of time, with all the cells in their body activated and their self-healing ability greatly enhanced.]

[Note: A true knight needs his own armor.]

Lu Mingfei could sense that his Word of Power, Ghost Victory, was beginning to evolve into this Word of Power called Bronze Throne. Bronze Throne was stronger than Ghost Victory in every way. After Ghost Victory strengthened his power, not only would it damage his body, but his killing intent would also affect his judgment.

The Bronze Throne doesn't have so many troublesome things. Not only can it enhance strength and greatly increase recovery ability, but it can also be bulletproof. If he had had this power before, Lu Mingfei felt that he could have passed those two tanks without taking any damage.

However, Lu Mingfei stopped paying attention to the Word Spirit and took out his phone. But he then realized that his phone had been damaged in the previous rainstorm.

Without hesitation, he immediately went downstairs to a nearby phone booth and began dialing an international number—Caesar's phone number.

However, it wasn't Caesar's voice that came on the other end of the phone; instead, it was a woman's voice.

"The number you dialed is not in service. Sorry, the number you dialed does not exist."

Helpless, Lu Mingfei could only hang the receiver back on the stand. Although he knew Caesar's phone number, Caesar had said that not just anyone could call a super-rich second-generation like him. Their phone numbers were encrypted, and Caesar didn't have a QQ account, so he had lost contact with Caesar.

He did know Caesar's address, but it was a very large estate in faraway Italy, and ordinary people without a certain status or position couldn't find it.

He also knew that Kassel College was in Chicago, but the school was in the mountains, and you usually had to take a special train or a helicopter to get there. Obviously, Lu Mingfei had no way to find those places right now.

"Sigh—I hate rich kids—" Lu Mingfei muttered under his breath, then looked around blankly.

It seems there's no other way but to have Caesar come to him now.

I wonder if Caesar has returned yet —

If he comes back, given that guy's efficiency and the super-rich family he mentioned, finding him shouldn't be difficult. After all, when they parted ways, they both knew each other's basic information in the real world.

But what if Caesar doesn't come back?

This thought made Lu Mingfei's heart tighten. The battlefield is ever-changing. Although Caesar was an ace pilot, in that level of air combat while also managing ground operations, no one could predict the outcome.

Lu Mingfei shook his head violently, suppressing this terrifying thought. He believed that Gattuso's successor, who was proud to the core, would not fall so easily.

So what should he do now? Go to school? But after a year of fighting, can he still fit in? The two weeks he spent in the Andes Mountains already made him feel out of place on campus.

Now, with the Somme River added to the hellish soaking of Verdun all year—can he still pretend to be nonchalant as he sits back in the classroom, reciting texts and solving math problems?

He began to wander aimlessly, but his eyes habitually scanned his surroundings to see where a machine gun could be set up to block the street, the corners of buildings, open windows, the backs of parked vehicles, assessing potential threats and cover—it was almost an instinct ingrained in his bones.

The area was bustling with people and cars, full of the vibrancy of life, yet he felt like a transparent ghost, wandering aimlessly, completely out of place.

The war was over, at least for him personally, but the peaceful days seemed harder to adjust to than the trenches.

Just then, a car trying to change lanes from the side and behind, impatiently honked its horn because the car in front had suddenly slowed down. The sharp horn blared out without warning, so close by.

Lu Mingfei's body reacted almost instinctively. The moment the car horn sounded, he fell to the ground in a standard tactical roll, covering his head with his hands, curling up his body and pressing it tightly against the ground.

His movements were swift and fluid, a textbook example of a defensive stance, but the pedestrians around him were startled by his sudden action and stopped in their tracks, looking over in surprise.

The car that had been honking slammed on its brakes, and the driver leaned out of the window, staring in astonishment at Lu Mingfei, who was sprawled on the roadside in an odd position.

"Hey! Young man! What are you doing?! I didn't even touch you! Why did you suddenly fall to the ground? Trying to stage an accident?!" the driver shouted loudly.

Lu Mingfei lay on the ground, his ears ringing, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, his adrenaline surging. For a moment, he felt as if he were still on the Somme or in Verdun.

A few seconds later, Lu Mingfei slowly released his hands from his head, raised his head, and looked at the crowd gathering around him and the driver's tense face.

Yes—he's back—

This is not a battlefield; there are no enemies here who want to kill you at any moment.

That wasn't the sound of a cannonball; it was just an ordinary car horn.

He braced himself against the ground and stood up somewhat stiffly, patting the dust off his clothes. However, he could feel that all the muscles in his body were still tense, and the power of the bronze throne was faintly flowing under his skin, as if he were ready to deal with any imagined attack at any time.

"I'm fine—I just tripped suddenly—" Lu Mingfei said softly.

Seeing that nothing serious had happened, the crowd gradually dispersed, though occasionally someone would turn back and look at the strangely behaving boy with curiosity or incomprehension.

Lu Mingfei stood still, took a deep breath, forced himself to relax his tense muscles, and suppressed the power of his words that he had subconsciously activated. The cold, hard feeling brought by the bronze throne slowly faded away, and his skin returned to normal.

But the turmoil in his heart was hard to calm down. He realized that the problem was much more serious than he had imagined, far more serious than he had imagined.

It wasn't just the psychological barrier and confusion; his body, his nerves, and his fighting instincts were all completely reshaped by the war that lasted for more than a year.

A sudden noise, a fast-moving object, or even just an unintentional touch in a crowd can trigger an excessive defensive reaction in him.

If this continues, forget about going to school, even walking normally on the street could lead to an accident.

This can't go on; he has to do something.

He quickly headed towards the hospital, following his somewhat hazy memory. As the saying goes, if you feel something is wrong, you should see a doctor.

Soon Lu Mingfei appeared at the entrance of the psychiatric ward, pushed the door open, and went inside.

The room was small, with a large desk behind which sat a middle-aged doctor with a refined and gentle appearance, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, just as Lu Mingfei remembered.

"Dr. Xu," Lu Mingfei greeted her. The person inside was the psychologist who had been treating his PTSD.

His gaze swept quickly across the room as a habitual instinct to assess potential threats. Soon, his eyes landed on the side and behind the desk, where the nurse's or assistant's seat should have been.

A young woman was sitting there.

She appeared to be organizing a document with her head down. Her long, smooth, black hair cascaded down like a waterfall. She was dressed in a simple white shirt and dark suit pants, looking both proper and professional. However, even so, it couldn't hide her stunning figure. You could say that everything below her neck was legs.

Even a veteran like Lu Mingfei, who had crawled out of piles of corpses, was momentarily distracted.

"Oh, Lu Mingfei, what brings you here so early today?" Dr. Xu, who was wearing glasses, was also somewhat surprised to see Lu Mingfei walk in.

He was very impressed with Lu Mingfei. After all, there were only a few patients in the entire department, and someone as special as Lu Mingfei was even rarer. However, Lu Mingfei usually came around lunchtime, but he actually came in the morning today.

"Oh, don't mind her. This is Mai, an intern who recently came to our hospital for her internship. She's temporarily helping out here. Mai, this is Lu Mingfei," Dr. Xu introduced, glancing at the nurse beside him as she saw Lu Mingfei.

Upon hearing this, the woman named Mai stopped what she was doing, raised her head, and her face was fully exposed to the light. It was an impeccable face.

She looked at Lu Mingfei, nodded slightly as a greeting, her face expressionless, neither warm nor cold, just a professional courtesy.

Lu Mingfei nodded to her, quickly shifting his gaze away from her and refocusing on Dr. Xu. He wasn't here to see a beautiful woman, but to see a psychiatrist.

"Doctor, my PTSD seems to have gotten worse again—" Lu Mingfei said hesitantly.

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