Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

He desperately wanted to get up and leave the noisy table, but as the host and the person in charge of the mission, he couldn't. So he could only lower his eyes slightly, focusing his attention on his beloved sword, Spider Cutter, which lay across his lap. He took out a snow-white cotton cloth and silently wiped the cold blade over and over again, shutting out the idle chatter that made him uncomfortable.

Can I see your knife?

A calm voice interrupted Genji's thoughts. He looked up and met Chu Zihang's golden eyes, which remained unmoved in the candlelight. Genji recalled that the information mentioned Chu Zihang's preferred weapon was also a Japanese sword.

Without any unnecessary formalities, Genjiro presented the Spider Cutter with both hands. Chu Zihang accepted it with the same gesture, and in the dim light of the flickering candlelight on the table, he intently examined the beautifully curved blade, the cold, sharp edge, and the exquisite spider carving on the tsuba.

Suddenly, Chu Zihang made an unexpected move. He leaned slightly forward and blew out the candle closest to the corner of the table. The surroundings darkened for a moment as the light disappeared, but then, something strange happened.

The Spider Cutter's blade, in the dim light, emitted a hazy, cool glow, as if an invisible, cold moon in the night sky were concentrating its light upon the blade.

"Hey! Senior brother, why did you turn off the light?!" Lu Mingfei was picking up a piece of succulent tuna belly, dipping it in wasabi soy sauce, and putting it in his mouth when suddenly his vision went dark. He was so startled that he almost shoved the fish into his face. "It's pitch black. What if I eat wasabi up my nose? This stuff is expensive!" He looked at the fish on the tip of his chopsticks with a pained expression.

Chu Zihang ignored Lu Mingfei's protest, carefully examined the glowing blade for a moment, and then handed the Spider Cutter back to Genji with both hands, asking, "Is this an ancient sword? Such an expensive and historically valuable item is used as an everyday weapon?"

Genjiro took the sword, his fingertips brushing against the cool spine, and said calmly, "If judged by age, it would indeed be considered an antique in a sword museum. But a sword is ultimately a sword; it is made to be used. If it is merely placed in a glass case for people to admire, then it is no longer a sword, but merely the corpse of a sword."

“I always feel,” Chu Zihang said, his gaze still fixed on the Spider Cutter, “that this knife has an indelible smell of blood on it.”

Yuan Zhisheng paused slightly as he wiped the blade, then looked up at Chu Zihang, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes: "A knife is inherently dirty; it's made to be stained with blood. The more you use it, the dirtier it becomes. Blood can be washed away, but that stench will seep into the steel's texture and remain on it."

He paused, then asked in return, "I saw in your file that you also use a Japanese sword."

"Yes," Chu Zihang nodded, "It was something my father left behind. But something happened later and it was lost. What we're using now is a replica made by the academy."

"Your father?" Yuan Zhisheng asked.

“He passed away a long time ago.” Chu Zihang paused for a few seconds, then looked up at Yuan Zhisheng. “I have a request.”

"You said."

Chu Zihang took out a long, rectangular box wrapped in dark velvet from the side pocket of his backpack and opened it in front of Yuan Zhisheng. Inside, lined with soft silk, lay a fragment of a knife blade, no longer than an adult's finger, with jagged edges and a dark color, yet subtly gleaming.

“These are fragments of that broken sword, made of alchemy,” Chu Zihang said. “Whether it’s an antique or a modern creation, there probably aren’t many people who can forge a sword like this. I’ve heard that the lineage of Japanese swords is very clear, with records kept by each swordsmith and school. I think we might be able to find out the original origin of this sword, or even its forger, from the material, craftsmanship, and blade pattern of these fragments.”

Yuan Zhisheng's expression turned serious. He relit the candle that Chu Zihang had blown out, pulled the candlestick closer, and carefully examined the broken blade by the flickering flame. His fingertips hovered above the fragment, sensing the faint, unique magnetic field of the top-grade alchemical metal, his gaze carefully scanning the faintly visible patterns on the broken surface.

“Indeed, this is an antique,” ​​Genji said slowly, his tone certain. “Judging from the texture and the faint folds, it’s made using the Butcher’s Iron forging method, and it’s extremely pure. This is the unique blade pattern.”

He pointed to the intricate patterns on the broken surface, faintly visible even in candlelight, resembling lightning streaking across the night sky. "It's called Inatsume, meaning thunder and lightning. This pattern is extremely rare, requiring a top master and exceptional circumstances to create. Judging from the weathering of this fragment and the decay period of its alchemical activity, this sword is at least three hundred years old. If it were in perfect condition, it would easily fetch over 100 million yen at auction today. The person who possessed it and used it as a weapon back then was no ordinary person; they must have had immense wealth or connections."

Chu Zihang listened quietly and added another key piece of information: "There is no inscription on the blade, but it has a strange characteristic. If it is swung for a long time and with high intensity, dew will condense on the blade. Every swipe is like a fine rain."

Upon hearing this, Yuan Zhisheng's eyes narrowed, and he looked down at the fragment again, trying to verify the legend from the remains.

"The automatic condensation of dew to wash away bloodstains is a characteristic of the famous sword Murasame mentioned in the Edo-period novel 'Nansō Satomi Hakkenden'. However, Murasame itself is a product of literary fiction. In reality, the condensation of dew on a sword is usually considered a phenomenon where certain special alchemical swords resonate with or absorb moisture from the surrounding environment when used intensely and their energy is active, which is a manifestation of the sword's own living property."

He pondered for a moment, "By combining the clues of the Inazuma blade pattern, the lack of a name, the ancient alchemical sword, and the characteristics of the Murasame sword, and cross-referencing the database of the Japanese branch with the secret files of the ancient family, there should be a high chance of finding out who made this sword, and even tracing its lineage. Let the Japanese branch handle this matter; we will do our best to give you a satisfactory answer."

"Thank you," Chu Zihang said earnestly, closing the box and carefully putting it away. He watched as Yuan Zhisheng began wiping the Spider Cutter again and asked, "Is the knife you're using also a family heirloom?"

Genjiro continued wiping without pausing, but his gaze drifted for a moment, looking at the dazzling yet distant Tokyo night view outside the terrace.

“No,” he said calmly, yet with a hint of detachment. “I have never met my father, and he left nothing behind. When I was a child, I was told that I was a child without a father, and I was locked in an orphanage with my younger brother. It wasn’t until later, for some reason, that it was confirmed that I had the blood of the Yuan family.”

Chapter 386 The Lonely Giant Tortoise

The crisp, clear liquor slid down her throat, bringing a slight burning sensation. Frilian sat quietly to the side, holding a small lacquerware sake cup filled with sake. She sipped it slowly, her eyelashes drooping slightly in the candlelight, savoring the taste of this exotic beverage.

The conversation at the dinner table shifted from the broken sword and its legacy to a more personal and somber topic. Genji put down the Spider Cutter, looked at Chu Zihang, and asked, "Chu-kun, do you know Lonely George?"

Chu Zihang put down his chopsticks and nodded. "I know. It's very famous; it's known as the loneliest turtle in the world."

The mental database quickly retrieved relevant information: "Lonely George was the last known Pinta Island tortoise in the world. Due to human hunting, habitat destruction, and invasive species, no other individuals of its subspecies had been found in the decades since its discovery. It lived alone at the Darwin Research Station in Ecuador's Galapagos National Park, carefully protected, but this also meant it was destined to be the last of its kind. Scientists had tried to find female tortoises from other subspecies for it to hybridize, hoping to preserve some of its genes, but George never left any offspring."

As Yuan Zhisheng listened to Chu Zihang's straightforward yet precise description, his eyes darted around. Through Chu Zihang's words, he saw the giant tortoise slowly crawling in the enclosure, its eyes perhaps empty or peaceful.

“Yes, lonely George,” he repeated softly. “The Minamoto family, one of the Eight Families of the Snake Clan, was once incredibly illustrious, a pillar supporting the shadowy world of Japan. But in recent decades, the Minamoto bloodline has dwindled, talent has failed to keep up, and the collateral branches have gradually faded into obscurity. For a long time, both within the family and outsiders believed that the direct bloodline of the Minamoto family had been severed. Until they found my brother and me in a remote mountain village.”

He paused, his tone flat yet tinged with an indescribable loneliness: "I was brought back, educated, trained, and finally confirmed as the last heir of the Minamoto family, becoming the current head of the Minamoto family. Sounds impressive, right? But many times, I feel like I am George. In the entire Minamoto family, the only one who can truly be called a member of the Minamoto family is me. I sit in this position, surrounded by many people, but they call me Young Master, and their reverence is for the Minamoto surname and the power it represents, not for me, Minamoto Chisei. Sometimes, I hope that one day when I have the opportunity to travel, I can go to the Galapagos and see the place where George once lived."

He said the last sentence very softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

Chu Zihang was silent for a moment, then asked, "You just said you and your brother were found together. You have a brother?"

Genji's fingers tightened around the sake glass. He looked down at the reflection of the sake swirling in the glass, his voice devoid of emotion: "My brother, ah. Yes, it was a long, long time ago. He's probably dead by now."

He used an uncertain word, as if that memory and that person's fate were shrouded in an impenetrable fog.

Lu Mingfei, standing to the side, gulped down a large mouthful of sake. The cool liquid, carrying the aroma of rice and a hint of spiciness, rushed into his stomach, making him feel a tightness in his chest. Listening to the conversation between Yuan Zhisheng and Chu Zihang, he couldn't help but sigh, "Sigh, every family has its own troubles. It's not easy for anyone."

He swirled his empty glass, and Sakura immediately stepped forward silently to refill it. "My parents have been traveling all over the world since I was in junior high, doing some kind of archaeological research. I only see them a few times a year. I'm all alone at home, and, well, basically, I'm all alone. I'm really bored most of the time. All I do is play games, and play games. It feels like every day is the same."

Caesar had already drunk quite a bit. He tilted his head back and downed the wine in his glass in one gulp, letting out a satisfied sigh. Then, with a carefree wave of his hand, his golden hair gleamed in the candlelight: "Yo! Looks like tonight's 'Parents are all cursed,' or rather, 'Parents are all absent' symposium? Well, I have to join in! I'm joining your 'Parents Ascended to Heaven' group!"

His words were so casual, even frivolous, that Chu Zihang paused slightly in his wine glass, looked up at Caesar, and a clear displeasure flashed in his golden eyes, making the surrounding air seem to grow colder.

Lu Mingfei was so startled he almost choked on his drink. He quickly waved his hands to clarify, "No, no, no! Boss Caesar, you can't say things like that! My parents are alive and well! They just live abroad most of the time and don't come home often! Besides, your father, Mr. Pompeii, is also very healthy and lively. Didn't he send a submersible a few days ago?"

He almost blurted out that he had found you a potential stepmother, but quickly swallowed it back.

Caesar, however, paid no heed, chuckled, and refilled his cup. "Oh, him? I'll just pretend I don't have this father."

"You like traveling too?" Chu Zihang shifted his gaze from Caesar to Genjiro, deciding to ignore the two men who were starting to show signs of drunkenness. He noticed a subtle change in Genjiro's tone when he described George and his desire to visit him.

Genji was happy to change the subject. He nodded, a longing look on his face: "I like it. But now I'm the head of the Genji family, and I rarely have the opportunity to travel for myself."

He paused, then mentioned a destination that made Chu Zihang raise an eyebrow slightly, "I want to go to France. Not Paris, but the south, where there's a famous nudist beach. I want to find a job selling sunscreen there."

Chu Zihang looked at Yuan Zhisheng. When Yuan Zhisheng talked about nudist beaches and selling sunscreen, his tone was serious, not at all like he was joking. Chu Zihang recalled that when Yuan Zhisheng mentioned his father before, his tone was also very calm, but the slight twitch at the corner of his eye betrayed the undercurrent beneath the calm surface.

Yuan Zhisheng's first impression of Chu Zihang was that he was hard, cold, and lacking in warmth, seemingly indifferent to everything. But at this moment, under the influence of alcohol and a subtle resonance, the young master of the Japanese underworld cracked his hard shell, revealing a heart that perhaps even he himself had not fully seen, a heart yearning to escape.

Genjiro generally didn't like to talk too much with people, but he remembered Tachibana Masamune's words: to be regarded as an ace by Angers, one must have extraordinary abilities. Perhaps, a clue could be gleaned from these private conversations.

"From being a mafia emperor to selling sunscreen in France? Don't you think that's a huge leap?" Caesar poured himself a full glass of wine and rejoined the conversation.

Although he couldn't fully appreciate the Zen-like aesthetics of the chef's "Life is Like Summer Flowers," he could still discern the quality of good food. Outside, the rain was pouring down, accompanied by rumbling thunder. The group sat barefoot on the tatami mats, enjoying the top-notch cuisine while overlooking the dazzling lights of Tokyo through the rain.

He had already drunk quite a bit and was in the middle of a lively conversation, so he really wanted to talk to someone. Besides, seeing that Chu Zihang and the young master of the Japanese branch were getting into a great conversation, wouldn't he, as the team leader, seem insignificant if he didn't speak up?

Chapter 387 Sunscreen Selling in France

“Managing the underworld and leading the family is the job and responsibility of the head of the Gen family,” Gen Chisei replied calmly, without avoiding Caesar’s slightly provocative gaze. “As for myself, Gen Chisei just wants to escape Tokyo, leave behind these responsibilities and conflicts, find a warm, comfortable, and sunny seaside city, and live a simple life where all I have to think about every day is the sales of sunscreen and the size of the waves, just eating and waiting to die.”

Upon hearing this, Caesar smiled dismissively, lit a slender cigar, and exhaled a puff of smoke. "My uncle Frost often says things like that. He's the acting head of the Gattuso family, always busy, with bankers and politicians from all over the world lining up to see him. Whenever his schedule is overflowing and the pressure is immense, he complains: 'It's a curse! If only I could have a month with a completely blank schedule! Then I could go back to my old house in the Tuscan countryside, drink the finest wine, read a book I've always wanted to read, and leisurely greet my old neighbors.' But,"

Caesar's lips curled into a sarcastic smile. "If his phone goes silent for more than half a day, he becomes restless, feeling that things are starting to slip out of his control, and he has to immediately call his secretary to inquire about the situation. Isn't that interesting?"

"Are you saying that I'm like your uncle, saying I yearn for a simple life but actually can't live without power and control, and that I'm hypocritical?" Genji knew what Caesar wanted to say, his fingertips lightly stroking the rim of his wine glass.

“I don’t mean to mock you, but that’s human nature in general.” Caesar, a cigar dangling from his lips, spoke with a relaxed yet authoritative air. “They call you Young Master. In this vast family that controls the Japanese underworld, you’re second only to the patriarch. You’re one of the most powerful figures in this megacity, capable of doing things that many ordinary people can’t. But once you leave this position, leave Tokyo, you’re nothing. Falling from grace and returning to being an ordinary person isn’t pleasant, and it’s hard to adjust to.”

Genji listened quietly to him finish speaking, without immediately refuting him. After a moment of thought, he suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question: "How can you know the joy of a fish if you are not a fish? If you were George, how would you spend the rest of your life?"

Lu Mingfei, who was standing next to him, picked up a piece of pufferfish meat. Upon hearing this, his ears twitched, and he immediately put on the look of a treacherous minister who feared nothing more than a peaceful world. He lowered his voice and said to Caesar, "Boss! It's not that I'm paranoid, but he's clearly calling you a turtle! He's even asking you how you, as a turtle, want to live! If this happened to me, I wouldn't stand for it!"

As he spoke, he stole glances at Genjiro's reaction.

Caesar paused, frowned, and thought for a moment, not quite understanding the deeper meaning of Genjiro's metaphor: "What do you mean?"

"George is the last Pinta Island tortoise in the world, and the whole world hopes that George can leave offspring, even if it is through hybridization with female tortoises of other subspecies, so that at least some of the Pinta Island tortoise's genes can be preserved."

Yuan Zhisheng slowly said, "The news said that zoologists carefully selected various mates for it that they thought were suitable, but George was unwilling to get close to the female tortoises that were brought to it. The experts were very anxious. They studied George's habits, adjusted the environment, and even discussed whether George had any special mate preference. But when I read the news, a strange thought suddenly popped into my head: Maybe it's not that George doesn't like those female tortoises, but that George simply doesn't want to mate with any of them. Whether or not it has offspring is not important to George at all. Perhaps it just wants to leave that carefully protected national park and crawl back to that familiar, perhaps dried-up or occupied, puddle from when it was a little tortoise, to roll around in the familiar mud, that's all."

His gaze sharpened as he stared directly at Caesar: "So, Mr. Gattuso, if you were George, would you choose to stay in the national park, fulfilling the scientists' expectations, striving to reproduce with the female tortoise and perpetuate the species' illusion? Or would you choose to bite through the national park's wire fence, relying on your memory to crawl back to the waterhole you once frequented, even if everything there may have changed?"

Without hesitation, Caesar flicked off his cigar ash and said decisively, "Of course, I'll bite through the barbed wire. It's like assuming I'm the only person left in the world. Even if you bring me a whole bunch of female gorillas, I won't have any forbidden incestuous relationships with them. My ideal is to climb back to Portofino, Italy, and as the last individual in human history, quietly gaze at the Mediterranean Sea until I die."

"Boss Caesar, you've really succeeded in putting yourself in the role of the tortoise," Lu Mingfei muttered under his breath.

Ignoring Lu Mingfei's banter, Genji stared intently into Caesar's eyes, confirming the truth in his words: "George is the last giant tortoise of Pinta Island, and I am the last direct descendant of the Genji family. Like George, I have no lofty ideals, only thinking about the present hardships."

He paused, then said, word by word, “I am not the leader the family expects. The underworld business of the Snake Clan and the dragon-slaying mission of the Secret Party may be important to me because they are my national park and responsibility. But what I truly yearn for is that waterhole. I am not the same kind of person as your uncle.”

"If that's what you think, then why stand still?" Caesar leaned forward, his eyes, tinged with alcohol, shining brightly. "If you jump on the earliest flight to South America right now at midnight, by the time the mission starts tomorrow night, you'll already be feeding pigeons in the Rio de Janeiro or Buenos Aires sunshine. We can handle the Dragon Abyss mission ourselves."

"Is this a personal challenge for me?" Genji's eyes sharpened.

“That’s right.” Caesar stretched and leaned against the low wooden armrest of the tatami behind him, his posture casual yet full of confidence. “If you’d like, leave Tokyo tonight and head to the beach you mentioned. I’ll take all the pretty girls from the student council’s ballet troupe and throw a party on that nudist beach you said you’re talking about, drink, and celebrate your new life!”

"Sorry?" Genjiro didn't understand Caesar's meaning; Caesar's thoughts were jumping around too fast.

"What I mean is, the most memorable, most fucking exciting trip in life is when a lunatic comes knocking on your window in the middle of the night, and you jump into a car with a full tank of gas, not even having time to look at the map, and you just wave it and plunge into the night, wanting to get as far away as possible!" Caesar raised his eyebrows high. "There should be no cage in the world that can confine a real man! Except for one exception—" he deliberately dragged out the words.

"What exception?" Genji asked involuntarily.

"The person you like."

Do you have someone you like?

Chapter 388 An Amazing Fiancée

“Hey! You guessed it! She’s my fiancée.” Caesar looked out at the torrential rain on the terrace, his gaze becoming distant, as if he could see a certain scene through the rain.

"The night I fell in love with her, it was raining heavily. She was like a little madwoman, driving a red convertible, circling the girls' dormitory, yelling at the top of her lungs: 'I want to go to Chicago! Chicago! Anyone want to go to Chicago with me?!' At that time, she was just a freshman, reckless, dazzling, and carefree. Every window in the entire dormitory was open, and all the upperclassmen were leaning out to look down. I bet everyone was moved by her at that moment. She opened the convertible, her hair was soaked by the rain, her thin dress clung to her body, outlining her beautiful figure, and her eyes shone like stars in a storm."

"You fell in love with her just like that?" Yuan Zhisheng asked, he could almost picture the scene, the vibrant life force that rushed towards him.

“Is that even a question?” Caesar withdrew his gaze, his face beaming with undisguised arrogance. “The first thing I did was draw my Desert Eagle, fire a few shots into the air, and then jump out of the third-floor window!”

Genjiro rarely showed a somewhat surprised expression: "Jumping out of the third-floor window is fine, it saves time, but why fire two guns at once?" This was completely beyond the scope of ordinary pursuits.

“To scare off any other crazy people who might want to jump too! So they don’t get there before me.” Caesar scratched his blond hair, speaking matter-of-factly, then shrugged. “But as soon as I jumped into the convertible, I was caught red-handed by a bunch of burly guys from the administration. They said that except for Free Day, we couldn’t use firearms on campus. Then she and I, both soaking wet, were dragged to the disciplinary committee and lectured by Professor Manstein for a full two hours.”

When he talked about this embarrassing past, he wasn't embarrassed at all; instead, he laughed even more heartily.

Caesar looked at Genjiro, his eyes gleaming with a seductive light: "So, if you really don't want to stay in this city as some kind of mafia boss, then forget about the flood and leave immediately! Think about it, maybe there's a girl like my fiancée waiting for you on that flight to France tonight? If you don't go, her seatmate will be taken by a bald, greasy, lecherous middle-aged man! Now that you're on the plane, you can point a gun at that lecher's forehead and make him give up his seat! Then you and your destined girl can fly to a nudist beach in France! How about that?"

His words were incoherent and illogical, filled with Caesar-esque, alcohol-fueled romantic fantasies and violent aesthetics. But in this context, coupled with his gleaming eyes and unquestionable tone, they possessed a strange kind of infectiousness.

Genji was silent for a few seconds, then slowly raised the wine glass in his hand, the candlelight dancing in his dark eyes: "Sounds really good."

"Cheers to my brilliant idea!" Caesar declared magnanimously.

Five glasses clinked softly in the air before being emptied. Even Frillie, who had been drinking quietly, silently finished her drink. Chu Zihang did the same without expression. Lu Mingfei drank a little too quickly and coughed twice.

It is indeed an idea worth toasting to, even if it is absurd and impractical. Caesar was that kind of person. He might have had some aristocratic reserve and distance in normal times, but once he drank or his emotions ran high, he was filled with this kind of reckless and unrestrained positive energy.

Even when he utters lines like "Young people, we must run towards the sun," which might seem a bit cheesy, his brilliance and unwavering determination somehow imbue them with a captivating power.

Even Lu Mingfei was somewhat moved. He couldn't help but picture the scene Caesar had described: in the pouring rain, a handsome, blond nobleman, a Desert Eagle in both hands, the gunfire illuminating his resolute, smiling face, leaped from a third-floor window like a god descending from the heavens, declaring his undisputed claim to the passenger seat of the red-haired little witch with an unquestionable kingly air. At that moment, Caesar must have been incredibly handsome, radiating brilliance—perhaps even a proud and eccentric girl like Nono couldn't resist him?