Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

The scarred man closed his eyes, but the expected pain didn't come. He opened his eyes and saw the young man frozen in place, knife in hand, his expression shifting from indifference to confusion, then shock. Because a hand had gently rested on the young man's shoulder from behind.

"Excuse me for interrupting your conversation," a calm female voice said in Japanese, but with a very slight accent.

The scarred man looked up and saw a woman wearing a baseball cap who had appeared behind the young man at some point. When did she arrive? How did she get past the other seven men in black?

“However,” the woman continued, “I have some questions for this Mr. Scarface. So, could you please leave for now?”

The young man tried to turn around, but his body wouldn't obey him.

No, not his body, but his consciousness. It was as if his soul was trapped in a transparent glass jar; he could see and hear, but couldn't control his limbs. He watched helplessly as his fingers loosened one by one, and the nodachi clattered to the ground.

The other seven men in black then realized what was happening and pounced at the same time.

The woman didn't even turn around. She simply raised her left hand and snapped her fingers. A very soft sound. But all seven men in black froze simultaneously. Their movements became extremely slow, their wielding arms advancing at a mere centimeter per second, their outstretched legs dangling in mid-air, even the movement of their eyeballs becoming a slow-motion, frame-by-frame playback.

Words of power?

No, the scarred man saw it clearly.

It is silk.

Countless, almost invisible, icy-blue threads extended from the woman's fingertips, wrapping around the seven men in black. Each thread connected to joints, muscle groups, and even eyelids. The threads interfered with the transmission of nerve signals and disrupted the rhythm of muscle contractions.

What kind of monster is this?

Chapter 490 The Ghost Gangs - Frillie (Part 2)

The woman walked up to the scarred man and squatted down.

Beneath the baseball cap, he saw a pair of eyes, emerald green, like the deepest pool in a summer forest, calm and profound, completely unlike the eyes of someone who had just subdued eight mixed-race assassins with supernatural powers.

"What's your name?" she asked.

“Yama, Yamazaki Ryuichi,” the scarred man answered instinctively.

“Mr. Yamazaki,” the woman nodded, “I have some questions about the Oni Clan. In exchange, I can guarantee you'll leave here alive tonight. Deal?”

Yamazaki looked around. Eight men in black stood frozen in place like statues, their postures comical. In the distance, the corpses of his men lay scattered about, their blood already beginning to congeal.

no choice.

"Okay, deal," he said in a hoarse voice.

“Very good.” The woman, Frilian, stood up and walked to the young man who had been frozen in place.

She reached out and placed her hand on the other person's forehead. Her magical perception deepened. The brain structure was normal, but there were tiny, unnatural bioelectrical signals in the frontal lobe. Was it an implant? Or traces of long-term drug control?

Memory retrieval begins. It's very superficial; she doesn't want to delve into the complete memory, just need keywords—

"The Fierce Ghosts"

"Contact Point"

"Superior"

Information fragments flooded in.

In Shibuya Ward, on Dogenzaka, there's an underground bar called "Styx." Every Thursday at 3 AM, a contact codenamed "Raven" appears to receive intelligence and issue orders.

The Ghost Gang has at least twelve safe houses in Tokyo, located in different districts and operating independently.

A major operation is underway, and all peripheral members are on standby, but the specific details are only known to officers.

Another scene: in a dimly lit Japanese-style room, a man in a white suit, with his back to the camera, has silver hair and wears three snake-shaped earrings in his left ear. The man's fingers tap on the tatami mat in a strange rhythm: three long taps, two short taps, and one long tap.

It was exactly the same rhythm as when Kuroda was banging on the door before he died.

Not a coincidence.

Frillie withdrew her hand, her face somewhat pale. Forcibly reading memories was a great burden for her at her moment, and it had depleted her magic power.

The young man collapsed to the ground, falling into a deep coma. The other seven also collapsed one after another.

Frillie turned to Yamazaki: "You heard that. Styx Bar, Thursday at 3 a.m. What day is it today?"

“Star, Wednesday,” Yamazaki stammered. “No, it’s past midnight, it’s Thursday morning now.”

“Take me there,” Frillie said. “You have a car, right?”

"Yes, in the underground parking lot."

“Then let’s go.” Frillie glanced at the time. “We have two hours and forty minutes left.”

Yamazaki struggled to his feet, his legs still trembling. He glanced at the young man on the ground: "Won't they come after us?"

“He won’t wake up within twelve hours,” Frillian said. “Even if he does, he’ll have at least three days of memory loss and motor incoordination. That’s enough time for us to get things done.”

Enough. What an understated word.

Yamazaki swallowed hard and led the way. As they exited the alley, he glanced back.

The silver-haired woman followed three steps behind him, her footsteps so light they were almost silent. The neon light occasionally illuminated her profile, and Yamazaki noticed that her face was actually quite pale, with fine beads of sweat on her forehead.

She was enduring pain. Was she injured? Or was it the price of using that power? Whatever it was, Yamazaki was certain of one thing: this woman was more dangerous than any of the monsters in the Oni Clan.

But he had no choice.

The two walked through the main street of Kabukicho. Even in the early morning, the streets were still bustling with people: drunkards, male escorts soliciting customers, drug addicts secretly trading drugs, and patrolling police. That's Tokyo for you—light and darkness intertwined, oblivious to each other.

The underground parking lot is two blocks away.

Yamazaki's car was a black Toyota Crown from the 1990s, well-maintained. He started the engine and drove out of the parking lot.

"Why did you help me?" he couldn't help but ask, his eyes fixed on Frillie, who was resting with her eyes closed in the rearview mirror.

"Help you?" Frilian opened her eyes. "No, I just need information. And you are currently the easiest way to obtain information."

It's brutally honest.

Yamazaki gave a wry smile: "After you've gotten all the information, will you kill me?"

“It depends,” Frillian said. “If you cooperate and don’t try to do anything stupid, like secretly sending a distress signal on your phone right now, I might consider sparing your life.”

Yamazaki's hand trembled, and he almost swerved the steering wheel.

He did indeed sneakily reach for his phone in the side pocket of the seat with his left hand while waiting at the red light.

"What's wrong with you?"

“Your heart rate quickened fifteen seconds ago, your breathing became rapid, and your left pinky finger twitched,” Frillian said calmly. “Typical signs of an impending lie. Give me your phone.”

Yamazaki stiffly pulled out his phone and handed it over.

Frillie caught it, didn't even look at it, rolled down the car window, and threw it out. The phone arced through the air and landed in the roadside ditch.

“Focus on driving,” she said. “And tell me what’s going on between you and the Ghosts. What was in those ‘special containers’?”

Yamazaki was silent for a few seconds. He knew this was a test. If he lied, the consequences might be worse than those of the men in black.

“It’s a sacrificial offering,” he said in a low voice. “Not from an ordinary person, but from the body tissues of a hybrid. Blood, bone marrow, and complete organs. Cryopreserved, collected from the black market.”

Frillie's eyes turned cold.

"use?"

"I don't know the specific purpose, I only heard from the intermediary that the Demon Clan is preparing for a large-scale ceremony and needs a large number of high-purity dragon blood samples," Yamazaki wiped the sweat from his forehead. "They are asking for a lot of money: 30 million yen for a liter of A-grade hybrid blood. A complete liver or heart will cost 150 million yen."

"Where's the supply?"

“All over the world. Mainly the black markets in Eastern Europe and South America, where they don't really care about the lives of mixed-race people,” Yamazaki's voice trailed off. “I was just a middleman, responsible for transportation and money laundering; I really don't know the specific details…”

“But you got greedy,” Frillie said, “keeping a portion for yourself, wanting to sell it for a higher price.”

Yamazaki acquiesced.

“Foolish,” Frilian commented. “But that’s precisely why you’ve survived this long. If you were truly an insignificant nobody, the Ghost Clan wouldn’t have sent only eight D-rank peripheral members to deal with you. They’re keeping you alive because you’re still useful. Or rather, something you possess is still useful.”

Yamazaki's hands started shaking again.

"How...how did you know?"

“Your bloodline,” Frilian said, “is thin but pure, without any trace of drugs or modifications. You’re a naturally awakened hybrid, right? And your bloodline purity is probably more than D-grade; you just can’t control it.”

She paused for a moment: "Is one of your parents mixed race?"

Yamazaki bit his lip and said after a long while, "My mother disappeared when I was six years old. My father said she died of illness, but I know that's not true. Sometimes her eyes would turn gold."

"She's a member of the Fierce Ghost Clan?"

“I don’t know,” Yamazaki shook his head. “I only remember that she would sometimes go out late at night and come back at dawn, and she would smell of blood. Once I secretly followed her out and saw her walk into an abandoned building, and then I heard screams coming from inside the building. I ran away in fright, and not long after that, she disappeared.”

He gripped the steering wheel tightly: "My father burned all her photos and belongings, and forbade me to mention them again. But I remember she wore three snake-shaped earrings in her left ear."

Frillie watched the street scenes rushing past the window. Yet another ordinary person caught up in the secrets of the dragon race. Or rather, not ordinary, a descendant of a hybrid, even with a diluted bloodline, destined to never live a peaceful life.

“Your mother might still be alive,” she said.

Yamazaki turned his head sharply: "What?"

Chapter 491 The Ghost Gang - Frilline (Part 2)

“The Ghost Clan doesn’t kill valuable members easily,” Frillian said. “Especially mixed-race women, whose fertility is a precious resource that can produce more mixed-race offspring.”

Yamazaki's face turned deathly pale.

"You mean, she might be...?"

"Imprisonment, forced reproduction, or being used as experimental subjects. This is the norm in the world of hybrids. On the bright side is the Kassel College, and on the dark side are the Demons and various underground organizations. And people like you, if they are not discovered and protected by the College, usually don't have a good ending."

The car entered Shibuya Ward.

The slope of Dogenzaka was particularly steep in the early morning. Most of the shops on both sides were closed, with only a few love hotels and convenience stores still lit up.

The sign for the "Styx" bar is discreet, without neon lights, just a black wooden board with the name painted in white, the font so small it's invisible from five meters away. The entrance is underground, requiring a descent of more than ten steps.

"This is it." Yamazaki stopped the car. "I... I guess I won't get out?"

“You’re getting out,” Frillie said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I need a decoy.”

"A bait?!" Yamazaki's voice trembled.

"Don't worry, I'll ensure your safety," Frillie said, opening the car door. "Only if you do as I say."

She handed Yamazaki a small device that looked like wireless earphones, but smaller and all black.