Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

“That’s not what I meant,” Chu Zihang said, unconcerned by Caesar’s bluntness. “We still have things in common.”

“You mean,” Caesar raised an eyebrow, “that we’ll be friends during this mission?”

Chu Zihang nodded, "Yes."

Caesar paused for a moment, his fingers tapping on the table. The sound of rain filled the brief silence. Then, he looked up, his eyes devoid of their previous playfulness and aloofness, becoming serious and direct: "Friends? No way."

He stared into Chu Zihang's eyes and said, word by word, "But becoming partners is possible."

Chu Zihang didn't say anything more, he just extended his right hand.

Caesar also extended his hand.

Two hands clasped together in mid-air, briefly but firmly. Both used enough force to convey their sincerity without offending or hurting the other. Their eyes met, devoid of smiles, only the solemnity of an agreement reached between warriors.

If the girls at Kassel College who love to fantasize about the "Kai Chu" couple saw this scene, they would probably blush with excitement and whisper, "I believe in love again!"

Chapter 397 Japanese-style Romance

At the counter, Noda Hisashi stammered an apology to Makoto, his words sincere, interspersed with strong-willed quotes like "A man should..." It sounded more like a declaration of love than an apology.

He looked embarrassed and gave a vague reply, saying, "Making friends requires asking Grandma's opinion first," and then added, "Grandma is very old and a little afraid of the yakuza, so please don't bother visiting her, Noda-kun."

Everyone in the shop was actually listening intently, but outwardly, Caesar was fiddling with the Abelul figurine, Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang were flipping through comics, and Genji was holding a coffee cup, gazing absently at the rain outside the window. The exhaust fan above them whirred softly, making the sound of the rain outside even clearer and more peaceful.

"Is this how Japanese gangsters date?" Caesar asked in a low voice to Genji, who was sitting next to him, with a hint of mockery in his tone.

“No, this is love in Japanese manga,” Genji replied softly, a slight smile playing on his lips. “When someone takes a liking to a girl, they try every possible way to pester her, using clumsy and even annoying methods to force their way into her life and try to get her attention. Many young people at the bottom of the underworld are not very knowledgeable and have low levels of education. The methods they use to pursue girls are often learned from action or romance manga.”

"Young Master, that sounds very practiced. Is this how you pursue people?" Caesar asked with interest.

"Yes, it's a pity I was rejected," Genji said calmly, as if he were talking about something trivial that had nothing to do with him.

“You’re quite good-looking,” Caesar said, scrutinizing Genji’s sharply defined, mixed-race features. “Why were you rejected?”

Yuan Zhisheng paused for a moment before saying in a self-deprecating tone, "She said I look too much like a woman, and she prefers more masculine guys."

Caesar paused for a moment, then exchanged a glance with Genjiro. Both of them chuckled softly, their laughter carrying a tacit understanding of helplessness and teasing between men.

After laughing, Caesar gestured that he could leave. He gently placed a few bills—enough to buy the figurine and pay for everyone's coffee—under the coffee cup, then carefully picked up the Abelul model.

To avoid disturbing Shin and Noda Hisashi, who were still having an awkward and immature conversation behind the counter, Sakura quietly removed the small, ringing bronze bell from the lintel and placed it on the umbrella stand by the door before leaving. For a female ninja like her, it was just a simple matter.

The group stepped back into the rain. Caesar lit a cigar, put it in his mouth, and took the lead. The others followed behind: Yuan Zhisheng, Chu Zihang, Lu Mingfei, and Frilian, who walked quietly at the back. Each of them held a long-handled black umbrella, leaving a trail of footprints of varying depths on the wet street.

“I feel old.” The student council president, only twenty-one years old and the heir of the Gattuso family, exhaled a puff of bluish-white smoke, his tone carrying a faint sense of emotion that seemed out of place for his age. “Watching young people fight so hard for love, so clumsily, and yet so self-righteously.”

“That’s normal. You’re a man who’s getting married.” Yuan Zhisheng walked beside him, also holding a black umbrella.

Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang followed behind, neither of them speaking. Lu Mingfei was still pondering the scene of Caesar and Chu Zihang shaking hands and making peace, as well as Noda Hisashi's amusing yet strangely innocent pursuit. Chu Zihang simply walked on in silence, his gaze fixed on the asphalt road ahead, glistening from the rain, lost in thought.

Turning a corner into a narrow, damp street, the view opened up, yet was filled with a suffocating sight.

In the pouring rain, hundreds of silent figures stood in a dark mass, clearly divided into two groups, like two ancient armies about to engage in a bloody battle. Most of them wore dark work clothes or cheap jackets, and rain streamed down their hair and cheeks, but no one bothered to wipe it away.

Everyone gripped a weapon tightly: heavy steel pipes, worn metal baseball bats, and even fire axes or machetes with their handles wrapped in cloth. There were no shouts, no slogans, only heavy breathing and the cacophony of rain hitting the ground, rooftops, and umbrellas.

Everyone stared intently across the street, their eyes a mixture of tension, ferocity, and the madness of being driven to desperation. A single spark, a single command, and this silent volcano would erupt, hundreds roaring as they charged at each other, brandishing their weapons recklessly until one side fell or utterly collapsed.

However, at this moment, this powder keg that was about to be ignited was forcibly paused by something.

In the very center of the street, in the empty space between the two groups of people, seemingly separated by an invisible wall, a Japanese sword lay silently in the wet asphalt. Rainwater washed over its cold blade, sliding down its gracefully curved spine. The dark hilt scroll wrapped around it was soaked, appearing even darker.

Even through the rain, the blade exuded an unassailable majesty; it was Genjiro's Spider Cutter.

In this simplest, most direct, yet most symbolic way, it proclaimed the arrival of the will of the Snake Clan, or rather, the head of the Minamoto clan, upon this place. It was like an insurmountable iron gate, an invisible wall of sighs, forcibly severing the imminent bloody conflict between the Fire Hall Group and the Swamp Crow Society.

No one dared to step over that knife, or rather, no one dared to challenge the power that the knife represented.

Genjiro, holding an umbrella, walked calmly forward, passing through hundreds of gazes filled with awe, fear, or complex emotions. He reached the center of the street, bent down, grasped the hilt of his knife, and easily pulled the spider-cutting blade from the ground, raindrops dripping from its tip.

He didn't glance at the crowds on either side, but simply flicked his wrist to shake off the water stains on the knife, then sheathed it with a crisp "click".

With this gesture, hundreds of members of the Fire Hall Group and the Swamp Crow Society on both sides of the street, as if receiving a silent command, bowed deeply in unison to Genji's retreating figure. A sea of ​​dark heads hung low, forming an eerie, ritualistic scene in the rain. No one spoke; only the sound of rain.

Genjiro sheathed his sword, turned around, and said calmly to the Caesar Group, "Let's go."

Lu Mingfei followed closely behind Yuan Zhisheng, almost stepping on his heels, and couldn't help but glance back at the gang members who still stood like statues in the rain, bowing. The steel pipes and baseball bats in their hands reflected the cold, wet light under the streetlights.

"What if they start fighting as soon as we leave?" Lu Mingfei asked in a low voice.

Chapter 398 Men's Friendship is as Solid as Diamond

"Yes," Genji answered without hesitation, his steps unwavering. "There's no way to resolve their conflict. Both the Numa-Kara and the Kodo-gumi rely on the logistics business in Kabukicho for their livelihood—moving goods, cleaning up garbage, and maintaining the daily supply of their shops. But Kabukicho is only so big; the logistics territory and profits are fixed. If you take a bite more, I'll go hungry. When the conflict of interests becomes irreconcilable, violence becomes the most direct and final solution."

"But you are the young master of the main family."

"Perhaps to some of the higher-ups in the gang, who have seen a bigger world and more significant conflicts, the territory and interests they are fighting for are insignificant, even laughable. But for the vast majority of them, it is everything they need to support their families and make a living. Losing the right to move things on this street could mean that dozens of members of a gang would go hungry for the next few months, and their families would be plunged into hardship. For them, it is worth fighting for, worth risking their lives for."

“Is there no way to eradicate violence?” Frilian asked.

"The underworld cannot eradicate violence. That's one of its inherent characteristics. Compared to that, everyone prefers stories like those of Miss Makoto and Noda Hisashi—naive, clumsy, with a touch of manga-like innocence and absurdity, at least without bloodshed," Genji paused.

"However, if Noda Hisashi continues to stay in the Noda Group and climbs the ranks with his passion and immature thinking, perhaps one day he will be like these people, leading dozens or even hundreds of brothers, carrying real knives, taking to the streets, and fighting to the death with another group over the ownership of a warehouse or the right to collect protection money for a few streets."

Lu Mingfei remained silent. He recalled how he had found Noda Hisashi's behavior in the toy store somewhat laughable, even a bit childish. But now it seemed that it was perhaps just the last glimmer of naivety before he was fully tainted by the true rules of the underworld.

“I asked Mr. Masamune,” Genji continued, “wouldn’t the main family have other, gentler ways to manage and coordinate these conflicts? Perhaps there are more efficient and civilized methods. But Mr. Masamune said that he is old, and just maintaining the normal operation of this large and ancient organization has already consumed most of his energy, leaving him unable to push for fundamental reforms. If we really want to change this organization and reduce the bloodshed in the shadows…”

He glanced at Lu Mingfei and said, "I can try to inherit this family business and then find the answers myself."

“So,” Caesar said, walking beside him with a lit cigar dangling from his lips, the smoke quickly dissipating in the rain, “you tortoise, you can’t yet crawl to your nudist beach to roll around in the puddles, can you?”

“Hmm,” Genjiro answered softly, his gaze seemingly piercing through the rain and street before him, looking towards a distant, blurry place. “The person the family truly expects is probably someone as majestic and powerful as a dragon, capable of ruling everything and bringing about change. But I’m probably just a tortoise. To ask a tortoise to shoulder the responsibilities that should belong to a dragon is truly exhausting.”

He had barely finished speaking.

"Ow!"

"kill!"

A deafening, beast-like roar erupted from the street behind us, like a long-suppressed volcano. This was followed by a series of muffled, terrifying rumbles of countless feet stomping on the flooded pavement, as if the entire street was shaking.

The conflict, which had been suppressed by Spider-Cut for over an hour, finally erupted inevitably after the force representing deterrence left. The sounds of steel pipes colliding with baseball bats, screams, cries of pain, and curses intertwined into a chaotic and violent symphony, carrying far through the rain.

Almost at the same time, a sharp, piercing siren sounded in the distance, growing louder as it approached, and the flashing red and blue lights of police cars began to tear through the rainy night.

A bloody brawl between gangsters, a cat-and-mouse game between the police and the underworld, unfolded just a few hundred meters behind them, devoid of any beauty, filled with primal violence and helplessness.

Yuan Zhisheng stopped, but didn't turn around. He just stood there quietly, listening to the noise behind him, his back looking somewhat lonely in the rain.

Caesar walked up to him, took out a top-quality cigar in an aluminum tube that was still unopened from his pocket, and handed it to Genji.

"Thanks," Caesar said.

Genjiro was taken aback and turned to look at him: "What are you thanking me for?" He thought Caesar would mock him or offer some profound insights about violence.

"The service was excellent. The food was nice, the shopping was great, and the after-dinner entertainment was quite interesting. It's been a long time since I've had the chance to completely relax, daydream, read comics, and listen to the silly things young boys say. I even bought an Abellur." Caesar shook the model bag in his hand. "I also witnessed the so-called Japanese yakuza, from their high-end headquarters to street brawls."

Caesar pulled out an expensive acetylene lighter, lit it with a "click," and the orange flame burned steadily in the rain. He handed it to Yuan Zhisheng: "To be honest, I used to think you were just like Chu Zihang, the kind of guy who was cold-faced, thought he was great, and was a bit disgusting to look at."

Lu Mingfei, listening from the side, couldn't help but twitch at the corner of his eye, internally cursing: "Hey, hey, hey! Caesar! Don't just say a couple of decent, human-like things and then turn around and start verbally attacking people! And you even beat up the innocent senior brother next to you! Your way of making friends is way too hardcore!"

"Am I that annoying?" Genjiro wasn't angry. He lit the cigar with Caesar's fire, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled thick smoke from his nostrils. He rarely smoked, but he didn't refuse at this moment.

“I don’t like self-righteous people,” Caesar said bluntly, lighting another cigarette for himself. “You’re an exception.”

He patted Yuan Zhisheng's rain-soaked shoulder with considerable force. "You can drink, you're good with words, your assistant is beautiful and capable, and you have good taste. And, most importantly, you have a sense of responsibility. Although you carry the heavy burden of your family and so-called morality, like carrying a mountain, you still speak with that nonchalant air, as if it's no big deal. Isn't taking responsibility a man's duty?"

Lu Mingfei continued to grumble inwardly, "Boss! You've started using the language of the strong and the 'man's duty' stuff to talk about too! Don't get infected and assimilated by yakuza culture so quickly! You're an Italian nobleman, for crying out loud!"

"Phew," Caesar looked at Yuan Zhisheng, his usual cynicism gone, replaced by a frank and camaraderie of kindred spirits. "From now on, we're friends. After this Dragon Abyss mission, I'll treat you to drinks, a proper feast. And I'll also invite you to my wedding." He smiled.

Genjiro was silent for a few seconds, took a puff of his cigar, let the pungent smoke swirl in his lungs, and then slowly exhaled. He looked at the direction of the flashing police lights in the distance, then at the dazzling blond Italian nobleman beside him, who was assertive yet surprisingly simple in some ways.

"It is an honor to have caught the eye of the Gattuso family."

"Haha, it's my honor too," Caesar patted him hard on the back and laughed, "Men's friendship is as strong as steel!"

Genji was a little touched. So this was how easily he had won the friendship of these headquarters aces, or rather, these lunatics? Their friendship seemed a little cheap, yet endearingly straightforward.

He said nothing more, but stood side by side with Caesar in the rain, smoking a cigar.

Chapter 399 Frilian: I'm going to take a shower first.

As the night rain subsided, Tokyo's neon lights blurred into hazy patches of light in the damp air. It was late at night when I returned to the luxury hotel near Genji Heavy Industries.

The hustle and bustle of the day, the fleeting glimpses of shopping, the absurd episodes in the toy store, and the bloody conflict on the street that was forcibly suppressed but eventually erupted all weighed heavily on Lu Mingfei's mind.

Lu Mingfei felt weak and tired, his brain was full of information and he desperately needed to clear his mind.

"I'm going to take a shower first," Frillie said softly, picking up the soft bathrobe provided by the hotel and walking into the spacious bathroom in the suite. Soon, the sound of running water could be heard, and a soft glow shone through the frosted glass door.

Lu Mingfei sprawled in the huge, soft sofa in the living room, aimlessly flipping through channels with the remote. He couldn't understand most of the Japanese programs, and eventually stopped at a channel that was playing an anime.

The visuals are vibrant, and the characters are exaggerated—a style common in action-packed shonen manga. The main characters, battered and bruised, stand supporting each other on the ruins, facing the colossal, monstrous final boss. The background music is stirring and tragic, and one of the protagonists screams something hoarsely, his face streaked with blood and tears, but his eyes burning with fervor.

Even if he couldn't understand the specific lines, Lu Mingfei could guess the general content. It was nothing more than classic slogans like "We can't give up!", "To protect what's important!", and "Because of the bond/friendship/promise between us!"

Sure enough, after a passionate speech, the main characters burst forth with dazzling light, instantly reversing the previously disparate power balance. Their combined ultimate attack was unleashed, forcing the arrogant BOSS into a series of defeats, ultimately reducing him to dust in a roar of resentment or an explosion.

"We won," Lu Mingfei murmured to himself, watching the main characters smile at each other and high-five each other in the sunset on the screen, as the end credits song played melodiously.

He twitched his lips, unsure whether to feel thrilled or to scoff at the clichéd yet universally applicable law of friendship/bonds always triumphing. In the real world, especially in the face of the impending, dark, icy abyss and the slumbering dragon embryos, how useful would such simple, direct enthusiasm be?

He didn't know. Perhaps it is precisely because such beauty and the possibility of victory are hard to find in reality that people need to repeatedly confirm them in fictional stories.

The sound of water in the bathroom stopped. After a while, the door was gently pulled open.

Frillie came out. She had changed into the hotel's white bathrobe, the belt loosely tied, revealing her beautifully shaped collarbone and a small section of her fair calves. Her long, wet silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, water droplets still clinging to the ends.

Her face had a faint blush from the steam of the hot water, and her usual aloofness had faded considerably, replaced by a gentle, languid softness. She wasn't wearing makeup; her skin was so clean it was almost translucent, and fine moisture clung to her long, silver eyelashes.

Frillie glanced at Lu Mingfei, who was slumped on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV, and said nothing. She simply walked to the other side of the sofa and sat down as well. The sofa was large, and there was a small distance between the two of them.

Another episode of the anime has started airing on TV, or perhaps it's a sequel to the same series. It's still about fighting scenes and shouts of friendship, just with different settings and opponents.

Frillie watched quietly, her emerald green eyes reflecting the flickering light and shadow on the screen.

The room was quiet, save for the incomprehensible but emotionally charged Japanese dialogue, loud sound effects, and background music emanating from the television. The air conditioner hummed softly, and outside the window came the distant, indistinct noise of the city, a noise that never truly ceased to exist.

Lu Mingfei had been watching aimlessly, but in this quiet and relaxing atmosphere, the fatigue accumulated during the day surged up like a tidal wave. The repetitive plots in the cartoon, the rousing music, and even the clean, fresh scent of soap and the warm steam emanating from Frilline all became the best hypnotists.