Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Yuan Zhisheng took off the communication headset, the cold metal shell leaving a slippery feel on his palm.

He stared silently at the huge curved screen in front of him, which displayed dozens of monitoring feeds: real-time images of the exterior of the Trieste, sonar scans, 3D depth models, and footage from the three young men's internal cameras. Now, only darkness remained, with only the occasional flickering light from instruments.

“The Caesar team should be almost at the burial site by now,” he said to another encrypted line. “The video data has been transmitted simultaneously.”

A green confirmation message pops up in the corner of the screen.

A few seconds later, Masamune Tachibana's voice came through the headphones. Even after digital noise reduction, his emotion was still discernible: "Well done, Chisei. This is truly a miracle."

Genji didn't reply. He stared at the red circle on the main screen, marked as the core area of ​​the burial site, located 7900 meters deep in the Japan Trench, directly beneath the fissure in the earth. Sonar scans revealed a massive structure there, comparable in size to an underwater mountain.

“This is completely beyond my expectations,” Tachibana Masamune continued, his tone a mixture of awe and resolve. “I only learned about the existence of the burial grounds of gods from the oldest scrolls in my family. To be honest, I don’t know what a place where gods are buried would look like. But there is no doubt that something is distorting the ecosystem. If it’s not an embryo, it’s the corpse of a god. The aura of the gods is leaking out and rewriting the entire ecosystem.”

Genjiro closed his eyes. He could imagine his father's expression at that moment, his usually gentle eyes burning with a fervent, almost obsessive light. Tachibana Masamune had been planning this day for twenty years.

"Success is just ahead," Tachibana Masamune's voice deepened, becoming resolute. "Erase the Divine Burial Ground from the world completely. The Snake-Headed Eight Families don't need to preserve the remains of gods. No," he corrected himself, "These aren't the remains of gods, they're the remains of demons! They're the greatest curse left by the White King!"

The only sounds in the control room were the hum of the instruments and the occasional tapping of the operators' keyboards. Everyone kept their heads down, not daring to look at Genjiro.

“Dad,” Yuan Zhisheng suddenly spoke, his voice soft but clear enough for the person on the other end of the communication to hear, “I’ve been thinking about something these past few days.”

"You said."

"We all need to wield the greatest violence in order to live a peaceful life, right?"

Silence came through the headphones.

This question seemed completely unrelated to the current deep-sea operation, but Genji knew that Tachibana Masamune understood what he was asking. Twenty years ago, Tachibana Masamune came to the Hebi-Hachi family and proposed to cleanse the family and establish a new order. He said that only by wielding the greatest violence could he protect those he wanted to protect and live a peaceful life.

Thus came the Enforcement Bureau. And the brutal suppression of the Demon Clan. And countless blood-stained nights.

Now, they are about to detonate a nuclear bomb, creating a man-made catastrophe in the deep sea and erasing an existence that could threaten the entire Japanese archipelago.

"Are you doubting me?" Tachibana Masamune finally asked.

“It’s not a matter of doubt,” Genjiro said, opening his eyes and staring at the red circle on the screen. “I don’t know if doing this is the right thing to do. Destroying the burial grounds of the gods and purging the demons will involve many sacrifices and a lot of bloodshed. Perhaps our initial intentions were good; we initially just wanted to use violence to achieve peace. But when one day we possess the greatest power—”

He paused, then lowered his voice: "We became the very people we initially wanted to kill."

The air in the control room seemed to freeze. Several operators' fingers were glued to the keyboards, and they held their breath.

A very soft sigh came through the headphones.

“Chiki,” Tachibana Masamune’s voice was unusually gentle, as if he were comforting a child having a nightmare, “I did all of this, it has nothing to do with you. If anything goes wrong, I will atone with my death. You are a kind child, you always have been. I know you just couldn’t bear to see me bear all of this alone.”

Genjiro forced a bitter smile. “Father, you are the head of the Snake Clan. How can you be lonely? Everyone in the clan is proud to be the head of the clan.”

"In a moment of youthful exuberance, I lead a yellow dog on the left and hold a hawk on the right," said Tachibana Masamune, his voice revealing weariness for the first time. "But only you can share my loneliness."

Yuan Zhisheng clenched his fist. His nails dug into his palm, bringing a sharp pain.

“I don’t have any grand ambitions,” he heard himself say, his voice eerily calm. “I’m just your henchman, Dad. Still the henchman who’s always thinking about leaving you and going to sell sunscreen somewhere far away.”

A short laugh came through the earphones, as if the person was genuinely amused.

“Then let’s wait until all of this is over,” said Tachibana Masamune. “Until the shrines of the gods are gone, until the demons are destroyed, until the Snake-Headed Eight Families usher in true peace. Then you can go wherever you want to buy sunscreen. I’ll personally take you to the airport.”

The call was disconnected.

Genji slowly removed his headphones and placed them on the control panel. The metal casing clanged crisply. He stared at the red circle on the screen, watching the green dot representing the Trieste slowly approach it.

Less than two kilometers to go.

Yuan Zhisheng put his work communication headset back on, his voice regaining the coldness of the Executive Bureau Director: "Attention all units, raise your alert level."

A series of confirmation sounds rang out in the control room. No one saw that Genji's left hand, resting on his knee, was trembling slightly.

the other side.

Frillie sat on the sofa by the window, holding a cup of black tea that had gone cold.

Outside the window stretched the massive platform deck of the Sumeru pedestal, where searchlight beams swept across the night, illuminating the steel structure and the busy workers in shifting light. Further out lay the pitch-black sea; tonight, there was no moon, only starlight shattered into silver flakes on the waves.

She should have been in the more central control room, where, as a representative of the Kassel College headquarters, she had the authority to oversee the entire deep-sea operation. However, an hour earlier, Yuan Zhisheng "suggested" that she move to the VIP lounge, citing "limited space in the control room and the need for absolute concentration on the part of the operators," saying that she could see all the real-time footage from there as well.

At first, she didn't think anything was wrong. The screen in the lounge was indeed displaying all the data in sync, and the communication channels remained open. Yuan Zhisheng even sent someone to bring her tea and snacks, with a respectful attitude.

But gradually, she sensed that something was wrong.

First, the number of guards at the entrance increased from two to four. Then she discovered that the door from the lounge to the outer deck was locked from the outside—not by a physical lock, but by an electronic lock that required an access card to open. She tried to contact the control room via internal communications, but the response was always the same: "Director Yuan is directing critical operations and will call back later."

What alarmed her most were the people protecting her.

Four men, dressed in the black uniforms of the Snake Clan's Executive Bureau, stood guard in the four corners of the room. They stood ramrod straight, their eyes fixed straight ahead, but Frillie could sense that their attention never left her.

It's not protective attention, it's surveillance.

She put down her teacup, the ceramic base making a crisp "clink" sound against the glass tabletop. The sound wasn't loud, but the eyes of the four men instantly focused on it, though only for a fraction of a second, before quickly looking away.

They are well-trained and of very high pedigree.

Chapter 437 Frillien Under House Arrest (Part 2)

Frillie calmly activated her magic. Through perception magic, she could "see" energy flow and life signs. In her special vision, the dragon blood within the four men was quite active; although deliberately suppressed, its concentration was at least B-grade, with the leader possibly approaching A-grade.

In any mixed-race organization, this configuration would be considered an elite squad. Using it to "protect" an academy representative seems a bit too much.

Frillie stood up and walked to the bookshelf on the other side of the room, where there were several Japanese monographs on deep-sea geology. Her movements were natural, as if she had just wanted to stretch her legs after sitting for a while.

The man next to the bookshelf slightly turned to make room, but his body remained in a posture that could block at any moment.

Frillie pulled out a book and opened it. A faint smell of ink wafted from the pages.

"Excuse me," she began, her voice calm, "where is the restroom?"

The man at the head of the group, a short-haired man in his thirties with a stern face and a thin scar on his left eyebrow, took a step forward and bowed slightly: "Turn right at the end of the corridor. I'll go with you."

“No need,” Frilian said, closing the book and putting it back on the shelf. “I can manage on my own.”

“This is the young master’s order,” the man said respectfully, but with no room for argument. “During the deep-sea operation, all non-combat personnel must be accompanied by someone. For your safety.”

“Safety?” Frillie turned around and looked him straight in the eye. “What danger could I possibly be in on the core platform of the Snake Clan?”

The man lowered his head, avoiding her gaze: "Just in case, Ms. Frillie. Please understand."

Frillie stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled. Polite and elegant, but her eyes were devoid of any warmth.

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you for your help.”

She walked toward the door, the man following closely behind. Of the other three, one also followed, keeping a distance of about three steps.

The electronic lock sensed the access card and emitted a soft "beep". The door opened.

The corridor was deserted, save for the stark white LED lights illuminating the smooth metal walls. Frillie's heels echoed rhythmically on the floor. Two men, one after the other, walked in near-synchronized footsteps, like specially trained guards, or rather, escorts.

The restroom was at the end of the corridor. Frillie went in and closed the door behind her.

She didn't turn on the light, but leaned against the door and closed her eyes. The magic was at full power.

She could "see" the vital signs of the two men outside the door; their heartbeats were steady, their breathing even, but their muscles were subtly tense, ready to explode at any moment. She could "see" further away, two more men standing guard at the entrance to the lounge. Apart from them, there was no other living thing on this entire floor.

She was placed under house arrest.

What's the reason? What is Genjiro trying to do? Kassel College and the Snake Clan are allies, at least ostensibly. Detaining the college representative without clear evidence is a serious political incident.

Unless, of course, Genjiro doesn't intend to let the truth of this operation be revealed.

Frillie opened her eyes and fumbled for a miniature communicator hidden in her sleeve in the darkness. It was specially made by the Equipment Department and theoretically could penetrate any conventional signal shield. She pressed the emergency call button.

No response.

It wasn't that the signal was blocked; the communicator itself had malfunctioned. She removed the back cover and gently touched the internal circuitry with her fingernail. Her special vision allowed her to see the problem: a critical chip had been burned out by high-frequency pulses. It wasn't recent; the burn marks had been there for at least several hours.

She recalled that before ascending the Sumeru Throne, all personnel's belongings had undergone a security check. It seemed that her communicator had been tampered with at that time.

He was meticulous and had planned it all along.

Frillie turned on the tap, letting the sound of running water mask any other noise. She quickly checked the bathroom; there were no windows, and the ventilation duct was less than twenty centimeters in diameter, too small for an adult to pass through. The walls were made of thick alloy plates, impossible to break by hand.

A perfect cage.

Frillie washed her hands and tidied her hair in front of the mirror. The woman in the mirror had long silver hair, emerald green eyes, and delicate features like a doll, but at this moment her eyes gleamed with a cold, hunter-like light.

Frillian, a specialist at Kassel College, a nominal student of Vice Principal Flamel, with a bloodline rating of A, and a Word Magic user. She is not a vase that needs to be protected.

She pushed open the door and walked out. The two men immediately stood up straight, their eyes scanning her entire body to make sure there was nothing wrong.

"Thank you," Frilian smiled. "Let's go back."

On the way back, she walked slowly, as if admiring the atlas of deep-sea creatures from the Sea of ​​Japan hanging on the corridor wall. Halfway there, she suddenly stopped and pointed to one of the pictures: "Is this the so-called Devil's Tooth Viper? I've heard Professor Flamel mention it. I didn't expect the Snake Clan to even study such a legendary creature."

She now knew the man in the lead was named Kuroda and was the captain of the third squad of the Execution Bureau. She paused slightly before replying, "Yes. It's recorded in our family's ancient books."

“I’ve heard,” Frilian turned around, leaning against the wall with a relaxed posture, “that the Ghost-Toothed Viper is an ancient creation used to carry out deep-sea tortures. The prisoner is bound to a bronze pillar and sunk to the bottom of the sea, where the viper will devour the prisoner, along with the bronze pillar. This is because their teeth can bite through metal.”

Kuroda's pupils contracted slightly. Though it was only for a moment, Frilian caught it.

“Ms. Frilian, you are very knowledgeable about the history of the dragons,” he said, his tone still respectful.

“Just a hobby,” Frilian smiled. “I also heard that the Snake Clan recently discovered a creature similar to the Demon Toothed Viper on the seabed, right where the Trieste is now.”

silence.

The air in the corridor seemed to freeze. The younger member of the enforcement agency reached for the hilt of his knife at his waist, but quickly realized what he was doing and released his grip.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kuroda said, lowering his head. "Those are just legends."

"Is that so?" Frillie took a step forward, less than half a meter away from Kuroda. She could feel his body tense instantly, like a fully drawn bow. "Then why is Director Genjiro under house arrest?"

Kuroda suddenly looked up, and their eyes met.

Frillie's Eagle Eye magic was running at full power, not to look at energy, but to look at micro-expressions, every twitch of facial muscles, every contraction and dilation of pupils, and every change in breathing rate.

She is putting pressure on them.

“Madam,” Kuroda’s voice was hoarse, “the young master is only ensuring your safety. Deep-sea operations are extremely risky; if anything unexpected happens…”

“If something unexpected happens,” Frilian interrupted him, “like the Trieste suddenly losing contact, or Lu Mingfei and the others detonating something they shouldn’t have in the deep sea, then I, as the academy representative, must die unexpectedly, right? That way, the Snake Clan can blame it on an underwater accident, or on the attack by the Demon Clan.”

Kuroda's expression changed. It wasn't panic at being told he'd been right, but a complex expression mixed with guilt and resolve.

"The young master will not harm you. He specifically instructed that no matter what happens, your safety must be guaranteed. You are a distinguished guest of the headquarters, and the Snake Clan will not harm its allies."

"Then why are you placing me under house arrest?"

“Because,” Kuroda gritted his teeth, “there are some things it’s better you don’t know. Some choices are difficult. The young master doesn’t want you to get involved.”