Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Do you like Commissioner Lu Mingfei?

"Hmm," Frillie nodded, giving a simple affirmation, which served as her answer to Sakura's question. "Yes."

Two short syllables acknowledged Sakura's observation.

Another silence fell. But this silence was different from the previous one; it was less distant and businesslike, and more of a subtle resonance born from shared feelings.

“Young Master carries a heavy burden.” Sakura said softly, looking at Genjiro, who was finalizing the procedures with Caesar and Chu Zihang in the distance, as if she were talking to herself, or as if she were explaining to Frilian.

“Sometimes I feel that he’s not really suited for this position. He’s more like… a turtle looking for a quiet place to sunbathe.” She used a metaphor that Genji himself had used, her tone carrying a very faint, almost imperceptible, pity.

“Lu Mingfei too.” Frillian chimed in, her gaze falling on Lu Mingfei, who was curiously peering around the submersible and occasionally gripping the wall nervously as the platform swayed. “He doesn’t seem particularly special. He hates trouble, is sometimes timid, and likes playing games and watching cartoons.”

The description is very objective, even a bit critical, but there is no belittling in the tone. Instead, it has a subtle feeling, like mentioning a useless junior in one's own family but not being able to criticize them harshly.

“But there’s something else hidden in his heart,” Frillian added, her eyes deepening slightly. She recalled the occasional, unusual look in Lu Mingfei’s eyes, the dormant power within him that even he himself might not be aware of, and the special attention and expectations the vice-principal and principal had for him.

"Hiding something else?" Sakura looked at Frillian with some doubt. From the intelligence she had gathered and her observations, Lu Mingfei, this S-rank specialist, aside from his frighteningly high bloodline rating and possession of the Time Zero Word of Power, did indeed behave as Frillian had described, even more eccentrically. What could he possibly be hiding?

Frillie didn't elaborate, saying, "Just like there might be an abyss beneath the seemingly calm surface of the sea."

This metaphor made Sakura pause slightly, and she couldn't help but glance again at the somewhat clumsy and nervous young man in the distance.

“Are you worried about his dive this time?” Sakura asked.

Chapter 403 Sakura Yabuki and Frilian (Part 2)

“I’m worried,” Frillie answered frankly. “The deep sea is uncharted territory. Even magic might be limited there.” She paused, “But worrying is useless. He has to go himself.”

These words sounded somewhat cold, but Sakura understood their meaning. They stemmed from a certain trust in her companion's abilities and an awareness of the trials he had to endure. Just as she felt sorry for Genjiro's exhaustion, she never considered taking his place or advising him to escape, because she knew it was his responsibility and his choice.

“Young Master must also do what he should do,” Sakura said softly, as if agreeing, or as if convincing herself, “even if it is dangerous.”

The two women fell silent again, each looking at the person they cared about, at the deep-sea submersible painted with a ferocious red dragon that they were about to step into, and at the dark, cold, terrifying abyss that the submersible was about to head to, where dragon embryos were hidden.

The sea breeze howled, carrying salty vapor and distant rumble of thunder. The massive "Sumeru Throne" rose and fell steadily in the waves, like an ancient reef. The clamor and preparations of thousands of people escorting this dive were, at this moment, isolated in this corner of the observation platform.

Only two quiet figures remained, along with the complex emotions in their hearts—unspeakable yet mutually understood, a mixture of concern, worry, and silent support.

They are observers, guardians, and also two silent people on the shore who share the same concern for the deep sea in this grand and dangerous Longyuan operation.

"Young Master, we're almost at Sumeru Throne," the crow reported in a low voice, bowing as it approached Yuan Zhisheng, who was gazing into the distance from the railing. Its voice was soft, but enough to penetrate the wind and the roar of the waves.

Yuan Zhisheng nodded without turning around: "Have someone send out a light signal to notify Sumeru Throne to open Dock No. 1 and prepare to receive it."

He immediately turned to face the Caesar Group gathered on the deck. Raindrops had begun to fall sporadically, wetting his black trench coat, but he didn't seem to care, his face displaying an almost ostentatious composure and certainty.

"Now, please allow me to invite you all to appreciate the culmination of the collaboration between the Ganryu Research Institute and Maruyama Construction Company—'The Unsinkable Sumeru Throne'."

Following the direction of his finger, at the horizon where the sea was hidden by thick black clouds, a point of light suddenly shone, then spread rapidly like wildfire. It was as if a giant beast sleeping in the abyss had opened its eyes, or as if a legendary fairy mountain in the sea had appeared in the night.

Where the sky meets the sea, it is reflected in a dazzling bright white, with countless lights outlining a huge and complex geometric structure, layer upon layer, brightly lit, its magnificent splendor far surpassing any naturally formed mirage.

The underwater palace slowly opened its doors, revealing a massive gate on the side of the steel behemoth that was sliding inwards, with bright lights shining from within, as if the behemoth had opened its gaping maw to devour everything.

"Is this a floating platform?" Caesar squinted. As the heir to the Gattuso family, he was no stranger to such large-scale marine engineering projects and immediately understood the nature of the scene before him.

“Yes, floating platforms,” Yuan Zhisheng affirmed. “Long-term investment projects under the family. They are extremely heavy and move slowly, but their stability is unparalleled, enough to withstand a level twelve gale and even a tsunami. In Buddhist terminology, the Sumeru pedestal is the base for placing Buddha statues and pagodas, symbolizing stability and solemnity. We named them Sumeru pedestals precisely because they can be called unsinkable fortresses.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Caesar and Chu Zihang before finally settling on the slightly uneasy Lu Mingfei. "The family has concentrated all six of its Sumeru-style floating platforms here as the forward base for this deep-sea exploration. Their reliability far surpasses that of the Lenin, which sank here years ago. Therefore, you need not worry too much about the impending storm."

As the gas turbines of the Moniach gradually shut down, heavy towing chains were attached to both sides of the hull, and the decorated ship, like a fish returning to its nest, was smoothly towed into the brightly lit, massive dock. The locks slowly closed behind it, shutting out the outside wind, waves, and darkness. The lights on both sides of the dock were turned on one by one, illuminating the interior as if it were daytime.

Two rows of men dressed in identical black combat uniforms, their expressions solemn, stood straight on the passageways on either side of the dock. Upon seeing Yuan Zhisheng and his group disembark, they bowed deeply in unison, their loud and clear voices echoing in the vast enclosed space: "Welcome, Young Master and your comrades, to the Sumeru Throne!"

The sound waves made Lu Mingfei's eardrums buzz, and the unique, chilling pomp and discipline of a mafia family were once again on full display.

A massive gantry crane moved over and lowered the steel suspension bridge connecting the passageway. Genjiro stepped onto it first, followed closely by Caesar and the others, with Crow and Yaksha protecting them like shadows. They boarded the elevator leading to the upper levels of the platform.

As the elevator ascended, Lu Mingfei could only hear the deafening roar of large fans, and the air was thick with the salty smell of seawater, the stench of engine oil, and the distinctive odor of cooled steel. The platform's internal structure was complex, with interconnected passageways, and he could faintly hear the gurgling of water flowing from somewhere, only to be quickly drained away by the ubiquitous, highly efficient pumping system.

What made Lu Mingfei most uncomfortable was the sensation under his feet. Even walking on the flat passageway paved with anti-slip steel plates, he could clearly feel the entire platform undulating rhythmically, slowly and powerfully with the waves, as if he were stepping on a huge floating cork, making him involuntarily want to grab the railing next to him.

“Don’t be afraid,” Genji saw through his nervousness. “The Sumeru pedestal uses a fully digital control system that can monitor and counteract the thrust of the waves in real time. If the wave height exceeds the preset threshold, the drainage valve at the bottom of the platform will automatically open to dissipate most of the impact.”

"This sea is over eight kilometers deep," Caesar asked a technical question, "how do you manage to secure these enormous creatures when you can't use anchor chains long enough?"

“It’s still an anchor,” Genji explained, “but the anchor chain doesn’t need to be eight kilometers long. The extreme depth of the Japan Trench only exists in the polar abyss region formed by plate collision, where the seabed depth rapidly decreases. We selected a suitable anchoring point and used a total of sixteen heavy iron anchors to firmly fix this main platform to the seabed.”

The elevator reached the top. Stepping out of the elevator lobby, the view suddenly opened up. Standing here and looking down, the scene was somewhat similar to the view of Shinjuku from Genji Heavy Industries' Shinjinji Temple, except that instead of neon-lit buildings below, there was a raging, black sea.

The waves crashed heavily against the solid base of the Sumeru pedestal, splashing up white spray. The thick steel cables connecting the six platforms taut like bowstrings in the gale, emitting a low hum, and then slack off. At the top of each platform, personnel in white combat uniforms stood ready. When the all-weather helicopters hovered or took off and landed, the winds whipped up by the rotors were no less powerful than the natural sea breeze, whipping their hair and clothing against their bodies, making them resemble a disciplined army under inspection.

"Wow, there are so many people!" Lu Mingfei exclaimed in surprise, looking at the scene before him. "Does logistical support really require such a large team?"

Chapter 404 Wind, Forest, Fire, and Mountain

Genjiro did not answer immediately. He took a megaphone from the crow and climbed to a slightly higher command position at the top of the platform. The sea breeze made his clothes flutter, but he remained as steady as a rock.

He raised the megaphone, and his voice, carried clearly through the loudspeakers, echoed across the nearby platforms: "Tonight, everything is in your hands!"

The next moment, on all the floating platforms, the thousands of people in white robes standing solemnly responded in unison, their voices rising like a tsunami, even momentarily overpowering the howling wind and surging waves of nature: "Serving our young master! With all our might!"

A thousand voices spoke in unison, their momentum overwhelming, carrying an unquestionable determination and spirit of dedication. Lu Mingfei felt the steel platform beneath his feet tremble slightly with the sound.

Yuan Zhisheng put down the megaphone and began to explain the deployment to Caesar's team: "For this operation in Longyuan, the family has mobilized all its elite forces, divided into four groups."

"Kansai branch, form the Wind Group." He pointed to the helicopters circling in the air like giant black birds. "Their mission is aerial surveillance and reconnaissance, monitoring the entire sea and airspace, driving away unrelated vessels, and providing air fire support when necessary."

At the opportune moment, the crow fired a blue signal flare into the air. In an instant, more helicopters took off from various platforms, their searchlight beams piercing the night like swords, sweeping across the turbulent sea.

"Kanto Branch, form the Fire Group." Genji turned towards the sea.

As a red signal flare soared into the sky, the locks facing the open sea on each platform reopened, and a series of smaller but clearly armed vessels sped out. These vessels were equipped with twin-mounted large-caliber machine guns on their bows, man-portable missile launchers were visible on their hulls, and even the outlines of torpedo tubes could be vaguely seen.

"They are responsible for surface fire surveillance and interception. They are equipped with weapons sufficient to delay or even damage small and medium-sized warships, ensuring that the operational area is not disturbed."

"The elite of the Fuuma family, form the Forest Group." Genji's gaze turned to the dark sea in the distance, where scattered lights flickered faintly in the rain.

"They have already deployed around the perimeter, operating camouflaged fishing boats equipped with advanced underwater sonar listening systems and weather monitoring equipment. They are our eyes and ears, responsible for monitoring the conditions of a large area of ​​sea and providing early warnings of extreme weather or other anomalies."

A green flare soared into the sky, and distant lights flashed rhythmically a few times in response.

"Finally," Genji turned around, looking at the platform beneath his feet and the busy, organized technicians in the Ganryu Research Institute uniforms, "this main platform we are on, and its support team, is the Mountain Team. I personally command it, and all members are from the Ganryu Research Institute. The Mountain Team's mission is to provide direct technical support, communication relay, and emergency rescue for the Trieste deep-sea submersible. Throughout your dive, the Mountain Team will remain steadfast here like a mountain, ready to meet you at any time, no matter how rough the waves, or to go down and retrieve you."

He turned to Caesar and said solemnly, “The family has mobilized a team of over a thousand people, utilizing the four groups of wind, forest, fire, and mountain to escort you on this dive. Apart from operating the submersible itself, please rest assured that all other support and security work will be handled by us.”

Caesar, cigar in mouth, looked at the massive spectacle before him, which resembled a military operation, and raised an eyebrow: "Is this really necessary? It's just a diving trip, but this setup looks like we're about to wage a local war."

Genjiro was silent for a moment, the sea breeze ruffling his black hair. He slowly said, "Someone once told me that teachers who instruct in the art of killing always say to their students holding a sword for the first time: 'Have you thought about holding this sword? If you have, hold it tightly. The day you release the sword will be the day you die.'"

His gaze swept over Caesar, Chu Zihang, and Lu Mingfei: "For us, every single thing is a life-or-death battle, always pushing ourselves to the edge of a cliff, where one step back means an abyss. Only in this way can we survive."

His tone turned serious: "This is by no means a recreational dive to collect corals or shells. We are facing a ferocious creature that may be on par with an ancient dragon. If we allow it to hatch on the seabed and rise to the surface, even if the four teams of Wind, Forest, Fire, and Mountain go all out, they may not be able to eliminate it. The necessary caution and all-out preparation are not for show, but for survival."

As if to confirm his words, the seawater on one side of the platform suddenly parted, and a heavy crane slowly lifted a short, thick, bright yellow cylinder. It was oddly shaped, like a flattened giant cigar with a small tail that seemed disproportionate to its bulky body.

"What an adorable design," Lu Mingfei couldn't help but comment.

“This streamlined and high-strength shell is designed to withstand the high pressure of the deep sea,” Yuan Zhisheng explained. “You wouldn’t want it to explode prematurely due to water pressure, would you? Its code name is Momotaro. It is filled with a high concentration of refined sulfur and mercury, relying on chemical corrosion rather than explosion to kill the dragon embryo. Its power and guidance systems are very limited, allowing it to propel itself underwater for only about one kilometer. But one kilometer is enough for a safe distance.”

He glanced at his watch: "There are still thirty minutes until the scheduled dive time. The Geyser Institute will use this time to complete the final checks and warm-up of the Trieste. These thirty minutes are your free time; you can relax a bit or go to the restroom. There's simply no space for a toilet inside the submersible."

After giving his instructions, Genjiro walked to a relatively quiet corner and took out his satellite phone. He dialed a number. "Professor Schneider, this is the Japanese branch. This is Genjiro. The entire diving team has arrived at the Sumeru platform, and the submersible and support systems are ready. We are awaiting final instructions from headquarters."

On the other end of the phone came a terrifying, extremely unsettling sound of breathing, like a broken bellows, hoarse and heavy, as if each breath was using up all the strength in the body, or like a shriveled corpse trying to restart its lungs.

Students at Kassel College privately described Professor Schneider's breathing as sounding like death itself breathing.

After a brief silence, Professor Schneider's cold and calm voice came from the other end of the phone, seemingly unaffected by the terrifying breathing: "I'll finish this cigarette first, no rush."

Twenty minutes ago, at the Kassel College headquarters, in the central control room.

The control room was unusually empty tonight; all regular staff had been dismissed. Only Professor Schneider, the head of the executive department, sat alone in the center of the hall, surrounded by countless screens. The screens displayed various data streams from the Sumeru platform in the Sea of ​​Japan, weather maps, sonar scan signals, and the real-time status parameters of the Trieste.

Schneider pulled a flat, small metal box from the pocket of his always slightly oversized black trench coat. He opened it; inside were golden, evenly textured tobacco leaves. Everyone in the academy knew that tobacco was tantamount to poison for Professor Schneider.

Because of a terrible accident years ago, his respiratory system was severely damaged, most of his trachea was removed, and he relies on implanted soft plastic tubes and a small oxygen device he carries with him to breathe. Wherever he goes, the oxygen tanker truck that emits a slight hum follows.

But at this moment, Professor Schneider, with exceptional skill and fluidity, picked up a pinch of tobacco with two fingers, spread it evenly on the cigarette paper, deftly rolled it up, licked the edge, and pressed it down. His movements were like flowing water, befitting a seasoned smoker who had immersed himself in this art for many years. He put the rolled cigarette in his mouth and lit it with an old-fashioned kerosene lighter.

Chapter 405 A Body Lingering on Its Last Breath

Schneider took a deep breath. "Cough! Cough cough!"

A violent, tearing cough erupted from his chest. He hunched over, one hand pressed tightly against his chest, the other gripping the edge of the control panel. The coughing echoed in the empty control room, mingling with the rapid gasps from beneath his oxygen mask, a heart-wrenching sound.

"Want to die? In this slow and painful way?" A calm and restrained voice sounded behind him.

Schneider's cough subsided, and he, panting, said without turning around, "It's not your turn to be on duty today, Manstein."

Professor Manstein, the head of the disciplinary committee, walked over to him and placed a small white pillbox on the control panel. "If you absolutely must smoke, at least take this. It has a sedative and local anesthetic effect, which will prevent you from coughing so violently."

He frowned as he looked at the plastic tube connector to the oxygen equipment that was faintly visible on Schneider's neck. "Can you even call that thing you use to breathe a trachea? I think a broken chimney is more effective at clearing air."

Schneider did as instructed, taking out a pill and placing it under his tongue. He then took several deep breaths of oxygen, which calmed his terrifying gasps slightly. He sat up straight again, his voice hoarse: "Two-thirds of my natural gas line has been cut, and the rest is connected with a special hose. But there are advantages to the plastic tubing. At least, I'll never get a sore throat again."

Manstein remained expressionless: "I have read all your medical reports. You clearly did not die from pharyngitis. Your cause of death will undoubtedly be progressive lung failure, perhaps compounded by complications from recurrent respiratory infections."

Schneider didn't argue, but simply took another drag of his cigarette. This time, with the help of the medication, his reaction was much milder. He closed his eyes slightly, savoring the strange sensation of the pungent smoke passing through his damaged airway, a mixture of pain and stimulation.

“Now you’ve come all this way to see me,” Schneider opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the countdown that kept flashing on the main console screen. There were still twenty-seven minutes left before the Dragon Abyss Project was to start. “You couldn’t have come just to deliver medicine to me, or to discuss how I should die, could you?”

Manstein didn't speak, but simply slammed a document he had been holding onto the control panel in front of Schneider. The document was on the official letterhead of the Kassel College Board of Trustees.

Schneider glanced at the contents, his face, which was excessively pale due to years of illness, remained expressionless.

"An urgent document from the Board of Trustees," Manstein stated flatly, "requires the Executive Department to immediately terminate Operation Longyuan. The reason given is that the risk assessment is too high and that it has not been formally reviewed and authorized by the entire Board of Trustees."

"The specific actions of the Executive Department are not for the old men of the Board of Trustees to dictate," Schneider's voice was still hoarse, but with a hint of coldness. "We are just people who deal with small things. They should be focusing on the big things."

“But your list of potential infiltrators includes the precious heir of the Gattuso family, Cesare Gattuso,” Manstein pointed out the key point. “When the news reached Rome, Frost Gattuso almost had a stroke on the spot. If it weren’t for the fact that he was too emotional and triggered a heart attack, requiring emergency treatment, he might already be sitting on a plane to Chicago, ready to personally tear down your executive office.”

“But wasn’t that deep-sea submersible a generous donation from the current head of the Gattuso family, Pompeii?” Schneider pointed to the striking red dragon paint scheme of the Trieste on the screen. “They even specially changed it to such an auspicious paint scheme. What’s wrong with a father supporting his son’s adventure?”

“Everyone knows that Pompeii, the patriarch of the Gattuso family, is an unpredictable eccentric,” Manstein said, adjusting his glasses. “His personal preferences and whimsical decisions usually have little to do with the overall interests and long-term strategy of the Gattuso family. Pompeii’s seat on the Board of Trustees has always been held in his brother Frost’s stead. If Frost says no, it means the Gattuso family’s vote on the Board of Trustees is against it. And now, more than half of the Board of Trustees have seconded this document.”

Schneider remained silent, watching the countdown on the screen: 25 minutes and 17 seconds. He took another drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled a bluish-gray plume of smoke.

"The list of personnel to be submerged was personally determined by Principal Angers," he said. "If Frost has any objections, he should go directly to the principal to discuss them."

He raised his hand and gently flicked the cigarette ash with his scarred, thick-knuckled fingers.