Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

"Huh? Me?" Lu Mingfei was taken aback and pointed to himself. He had only intended to accompany Frilian to see the place, but he hadn't expected to become the main character.

"I don't really have anything I want to know," he said, scratching his head, but under the old woman's calm gaze and Frilian's slightly curious look, he obediently did as she said.

He thought haphazardly, "Well, maybe the cafeteria will have braised pork tomorrow? No way, that's too lame. How about I graduate smoothly? Uh, that's a bit of a heavy topic."

In the end, his mind went blank. He grabbed a handful of yarrow stalks from the bamboo tube, clumsily counted out fifty, and pushed them back.

The old woman took the yarrow stalks and began the tedious steps of "dividing into two, hanging one, counting four, and returning the odd number." Her fingers were dry, but her movements were fluid. Under the dim light, the yarrow stalks made a soft rustling sound in her hands, the only sounds in the room being the soft breathing of the two of them.

Lu Mingfei watched this ancient and unfamiliar ritual with some initial skepticism, but gradually, he was captivated by the solemn and serene atmosphere and couldn't help but sit up straight. He felt that Frilian beside him had softened her breathing, her eyes fixed intently on the old woman's every movement, as if analyzing a completely new spell.

Time flowed slowly in the silence. The old woman calculated again and again, and finally arranged six symbols on the table—yin and yang lines represented by combinations of long and short yarrow stalks, forming a complete hexagram.

The old woman stared at the divination results, her brows furrowing almost imperceptibly. She didn't interpret them immediately, but instead looked up and gave Lu Mingfei a deep look, her gaze seemingly trying to penetrate his body and see something deeper.

"How are you, Mother-in-law?" Lu Mingfei asked, feeling a little uncomfortable under her gaze.

"Strange," the old woman muttered to herself, her finger lightly tapping the initial hexagram. "This is 'Qian for Heaven,' a pure Yang hexagram, symbolizing vastness, strength, and ceaselessness. It should be an excellent foundation. However..."

She began to explain the divination, speaking slowly and deliberately, but Lu Mingfei was completely confused, only managing to catch some key phrases: "Hidden dragon, do not act," "Dragon appearing in the field," and "Dragon soaring too high will regret it." He thought to himself, "Dragon? What does this have to do with me? I'm just a salted fish at best."

However, as the old woman delved deeper into her interpretation, her tone became increasingly confused.

“Looking at your ‘past’,” she said, pointing to the hexagram’s initial position, “it is shrouded in mist, with a deep abyss hidden within. It seems that great sorrow and loneliness are lurking, like walking alone in the eternal night, but the details are blurred, as if deliberately concealed or swallowed by some force.”

Lu Mingfei's heart skipped a beat. Fragments of memories flashed through his mind: being ridiculed by his classmates as a "good-for-nothing," watching the sunset alone on the rooftop, and his parents being away from home for years. But deeper was a sense of loneliness that he himself could not clearly describe, a loneliness that came from the depths of his soul.

“Now look at the ‘now’,” the old woman said, moving her finger to the middle hexagram. “The hexagram shows entanglement and conflict. ‘Leaping in the abyss’ means you are in a whirlpool, caught between a rock and a hard place. You have powerful ‘companions’ and ‘opponents’ around you, and the threads of fate are intertwined and collide. There are passionate emotions, there is protection, and there is also the shadow of sacrifice.”

In an instant, images of Kassel College flashed through Lu Mingfei's mind: Chu Zihang's expressionless face, Caesar's pride, Nono's mockery, and the little devil Lu Mingze's smile.

Flames? Does that refer to Jun Yan? Sacrifice? He dared not think too deeply. "Hey, hey, hey, does she have to be so accurate? Did this old woman secretly look through my file?"

Chapter 239 Divination Invalid

“The strangest thing is the ‘future’,” the old woman said, her brows furrowing deeply as she looked at the final changing lines and the new hexagram formed. “It’s all chaos, with endless variables. The hexagram is unstable, as if countless possibilities are unfolding simultaneously, yet all possibilities are shrouded in an even thicker fog. I can’t see the ending, or even the direction. Your destiny seems to defy the conventional web of cause and effect.”

She looked up, her eyes filled with unprecedented confusion. "Young man, who exactly are you?"

Lu Mingfei opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Who is he? Lu Mingfei, the only S-rank student at Kassel College, an ordinary person who occasionally unleashes his full potential? Or is he a monster who, even he himself doesn't understand, might be the one who holds the key to destiny?

He chuckled dryly twice: "I'm just an ordinary student, Grandma, are you sure you're not mistaken?"

The old woman slowly shook her head, said nothing more, and carefully put away the pile of yarrow. Then, she turned to Frillie.

"Young lady, it's your turn," the old woman said, taking out another clean bundle of yarrow and pushing it towards her.

Frillie followed suit, silently reciting the ultimate truth about magic and the answers she had been searching for throughout her long life.

The ceremony began again. However, this time, the situation was completely different.

The old woman began separating the yarrow stalks, her movements noticeably hesitant. The previously smooth rhythm was broken. The flame of the oil lamp flickered, casting distorted shadows on the walls. The air in the room seemed to solidify, and the scent of sandalwood became pungent.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on the old woman's forehead. She tried to continue, but the yarrow stalks under her fingers seemed to have lost their spirit, becoming chaotic and disordered. The first hexagram she produced was indistinct, neither purely yin nor purely yang, and the arrangement of the long and short yarrow stalks presented a state that completely violated the principles of the I Ching.

"This is impossible!" the old woman exclaimed in a low voice. Unwilling to give up, she forced herself to continue the calculation step by step.

The second line is still chaotic.

The third, the fourth... all the way up to the sixth, and so on.

What appeared on the table was not a divination result, but a complete and illogical jumble of characters. There seemed to be an invisible repulsive force between the yarrow stalks, making it impossible to form any meaningful symbols.

The old woman's face turned pale. She picked up a few of the yarrow stalks and found that they were even slightly hot, and her fingertips felt a slight tingling sensation.

"Mother-in-law?" Frilian called softly, her expression calm, but a hint of surprise flashed in her eyes.

She could clearly sense that when the old woman tried to divine for her, the hidden threads of fate around her not only failed to converge, but instead seemed to encounter an absolute barrier, instantly collapsing, twisting, and completely losing their order. She had never seen such power before.

The old woman suddenly raised her head, staring intently at Frillie, her eyes filled with disbelief and horror.

“You,” the old woman’s voice trembled slightly, “you have no 'divination results'.”

Frillie tilted her head slightly: "What do you mean?"

"It means that your past, present, and future are nowhere to be found within the Daoist tradition of Heaven and Earth!" The old woman's voice rose slightly, filled with excitement. "The yarrow stalks are not working, the divination is not showing! Your destiny is not here! Not within the Five Elements! Not within cause and effect!"

She seemed to be witnessing something that defied all reason, her breathing quickened, "I have been divining for sixty years, and I have never seen anything like this! Even a dying person, whose life is about to end, leaves traces. But you, you are like someone who does not exist in this world!"

Lu Mingfei was dumbfounded. He thought, "Holy crap! Even more outrageous than me? Completely 'no such person'? Frilian, your cheat code is even more ruthless than mine! You've completely blocked server queries?"

Upon hearing this, Frillie's face showed a thoughtful expression, then she suddenly realized: "I see. The divination of this world is based on the rules and records of this world itself. But I am not a person of this world. My past, present and future are naturally not recorded in your Book of Destiny."

The old woman was stunned. She looked at Frillie, then at Lu Mingfei, and the shock on her face slowly turned into deep bewilderment and awe.

She murmured, "People from another world, people shrouded in mist, today is truly, truly strange."

She slowly sat back in her chair, as if she had exhausted all her strength, and waved to the two of them, "Go, you two. My cultivation is shallow, and I cannot see through your karma. I cannot perform this divination."

Lu Mingfei and Frilian exchanged a glance and stood up. Lu Mingfei took out a few banknotes from his pocket, hesitating whether to put them down.

"No need," the old woman said, as if she knew what he was thinking. She closed her eyes and said in a tired voice, "It is already extraordinary that we have formed this bond with you. There is no need for money or gifts."

Lu Mingfei had no choice but to take the money back, thanked her, and left the mysterious fortune-telling shop with Frilian.

Back in the alley, the afternoon sun was a bit too bright. The wooden door behind me closed gently, shutting out the mystery and gloom once more.

Lu Mingfei let out a long sigh of relief, feeling as if he had just woken up from a bizarre dream. He looked at the composed elven girl beside him and couldn't help but ask, "Frilian, just now, you really didn't have anything calculated?"

“Hmm.” Frilian nodded, her tone calm. “Just as she said, my existence itself is not within the fate system of your world. That kind of divination is naturally ineffective.”

"What about me?" Lu Mingfei asked anxiously. "She said my past, present, and future are all shrouded in mystery, with endless variables. What does that mean?"

Frillie stopped and turned around, gazing at Lu Mingfei with her emerald eyes that seemed to see through a thousand years of time. She slowly said, "This means that your destiny has infinite possibilities. Or rather, it is being interfered with and shrouded by an extremely powerful force, to the point that even the inherent rules of this world cannot clearly define your trajectory."

She paused, then added, "From a certain perspective, this might be a lucky thing. A fixed fate often means constraint."

Lu Mingfei was stunned. Infinite possibilities? Interference from a powerful force? He thought of Lu Mingze, of Kassel, and of the inexplicable secrets surrounding himself.

Lucky? I just feel immense pressure! All I want is to be a normal student and live a peaceful life!

He glanced back at the tightly closed wooden door. Deep in the alley, the fortune-telling shop stood quietly, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Let's go. Although we didn't find any magical materials, we learned something interesting this time."

"Alright, the innkeeper said someone gave us two invitations. Let's go back and check."

Lu Mingfei gave a wry smile and followed Frilian.

Chapter 240 A Song for a Beauty

Located in the heart of Jiangnan, this film and television base has a rather grand nickname: "Oriental Movie Metropolis." Winding cobblestone paths line one side, with gray walls and black tiles in the style of the Ming and Qing dynasties, adorned with signs for "Yuelai Inn" and "Tongrentang." Around a bend, you might stumble upon the spires of a European-style castle or the neon signs of old Shanghai.

The courtyard where the secluded, antique-style stage is located is exceptionally tranquil.

Deep within the courtyard, in an old-fashioned side room temporarily used as a dressing room, Yuan Zhinu inhaled the faint scent of cosmetics and the aroma of wood, and sighed softly. Sunlight streamed through the carved wooden windows, cutting into beams of light, in which dust motes slowly floated and sank.

Yuan Zhinu sat upright before a mottled bronze mirror, wearing only a plain white undergarment, the so-called theatrical costume lining. His long, black hair was not tied up and flowed smoothly over his shoulders. The face reflected in the mirror had both the handsome features of a man and the gentle, alluring qualities of a female role.

Sakurai Kogure stood behind him, holding a delicate paintbrush, carefully drawing his eyebrows and eyes. Her movements were light and focused, as if she were handling a priceless, fragile antique. Occasionally, her fingertips would lightly brush against Minamoto no Chizuru's brow bone and cheekbone.

"Your eyebrows are naturally beautiful; with just a little drawing, they resemble distant mountains shrouded in mist," Sakurai Kogure said softly, her voice as gentle and sweet as the Wu dialect of Jiangnan.

With her eyes closed, Yuan Zhinv felt the gentle touch of the pen tip, and the corners of her lips turned up slightly: "It's Xiao Mu's skillful hands. Every time you do my makeup, I feel that the person in the mirror is not myself, but another, more perfect illusion."

“No,” Sakurai Kogure retorted firmly yet gently, “It is Lady Otome herself who possesses a thousand faces. I am merely fortunate enough to bring out the most beautiful one.”

She put down her eyebrow pencil, picked up the rouge, and used her fingertip to apply a small amount, gently blending it onto Yuan Zhinü's eyelids and cheeks. Her originally pale cheeks gradually blushed with a captivating rosy hue, like white plum blossoms reflected in snow, suddenly bringing a touch of spring.

“When I was little, I looked at those Noh masks at Shikatori Shrine and always thought they were stiff and scary.” Minamoto no Chie closed her eyes, as if recalling something, or perhaps talking in her sleep. “Later I learned that the most moving ‘masks’ are painted on the faces of living people. They can hide some things and also release some things.”

Sakurai Kogure paused, her eyes filled with heartache and understanding. She knew about Genji's past, those dark and torn years.

She said softly, "Here, Lady Nagi can release whatever she wants, and become whoever she wants."

As the makeup gradually took shape, the next step was the more intricate application of hair extensions and styling of the hair. Sakurai Kogure's fingers deftly moved through Genji's hair, combing and securing strands, then attaching hair extensions made from real hair to outline a classically perfect face shape. This process required immense patience and strength, but Sakurai Kogure performed it with effortless grace, as if she had rehearsed it a thousand times. Fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and Genji wanted to raise her hand to wipe them away, but Kogure gently pressed her wrist down.

"Don't move, it'll be ready soon," she said with a smile.

Finally, it was time to put on the costume. This time, Genji was trying on the role of Yang Guifei in "The Drunken Beauty." The bright yellow robe was embroidered with intricate phoenix and peony patterns, solemn and luxurious. Kogure helped her put it on layer by layer, tightening the silk sashes and hanging the jade belt. Each step was like completing a sacred ritual.

Everything was in place, and Yuan Zhinu slowly opened her eyes and looked at the mirror. The person in the mirror, with her cloud-like hair adorned with pearls and jewels, phoenix eyes sparkling, and lips painted with crimson, dressed in dazzling finery, was none other than the captivating imperial concubine whose "one glance could launch a thousand ships."

Kogure took two steps back and gazed at him quietly, her eyes filled with undisguised amazement and infatuation.

“So beautiful,” she murmured. “You were born to stand in the spotlight and be the center of attention.”

Yuan Zhinv turned around, her wide sleeves fluttering slightly, and took Xiao Mu's hand. Her eyes regained their clarity, "So what if I'm the center of attention? Right now, I only want to sing for one person."

The two walked hand in hand out of the dressing room and onto the small stage in the center of the courtyard. The audience seats were empty, with only a few rows of old, long wooden benches. A breeze from early summer blew by, causing the copper bells on the eaves of the stage to ring crisply.

Yuan Zhinu walked to the center of the stage. Without the accompaniment of gongs, drums, and stringed instruments, he composed himself slightly, flicked his water sleeves, and began to speak.

He sang a classic passage from the "Siping Tune" section of "The Drunken Beauty":

"The moon, like an ice wheel, begins to turn and rise over the island."

I saw the Jade Rabbit, which had already risen in the east.

As the icy moon departed from the island, the world shone exceptionally bright.

The bright moon hangs high in the sky, just like Chang'e leaving the moon palace...

The a cappella rendition of the opera lyrics, lacking the accompaniment, actually highlighted the unique qualities of his voice. His voice was clear and melodious, carrying a natural melancholy and tenderness; at its highest points, it could pierce through mountains and clouds, and at its lowest points, it was like a mournful lament.

He didn't perform a full physical act, but with the lyrics, an occasional turn, a glance, a gesture, and Yang Guifei's subtle emotions as she waited for Emperor Xuanzong to arrive—anticipation, disappointment, self-pity, and a hidden drunkenness—were vividly portrayed.

"I resemble Chang'e leaving the moon palace..."

As he sang this line, his gaze fell precisely on Kogure in the audience. That look was no longer the sorrow of Yang Guifei, but rather the unique gaze of Genji, a mixture of dependence, gratitude, and deep affection. It was as if he were saying, "Even if I truly was once a fairy of the moon palace, I am now willing to fall to the mortal realm for you."

Sakurai Kogure stood below the stage, head tilted back, her hands unconsciously clasped in front of her chest. She was mesmerized by what she saw and heard.

She had seen many faces of Genjiro: the ruthless "Dragon King," the fragile and confused boy, and the gentle and considerate companion. But every time he put on his costume and sang the opera, it was as if he had completed a transformation and sublimation of his soul.

At this moment, he was neither Yang Guifei in the play nor any of his past identities; he was simply the embodiment of pure beauty and art, and this ultimate beauty bloomed exclusively for her.

As the music ended, the lingering notes seemed to still echo in the courtyard.

Genjiro lowered his stance, exhaled softly, and looked at Kogure like a child waiting for praise: "How was it?"

Sakurai Kogure strode onto the stage, took out a silk handkerchief, and gently wiped away non-existent beads of sweat from his forehead. Her eyes glistened with tears of excitement. "So beautiful, Lady Chigure. I... I don't know what words to use to describe it. I just feel that if Emperor Xuanzong of Tang had heard your singing back then, he probably wouldn't have been able to bear attending the morning court session and would have wanted to stay at the Agarwood Pavilion forever."