Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

"Put it on. It's a communicator and also a vital signs monitor. I'll know if your heart rate exceeds 140 or your blood pressure drops suddenly."

Yamazaki hesitated for a moment, but put them on anyway. The earphones fit snugly in his ear canal, with almost no foreign body sensation.

“Go inside, order a whiskey on the rocks, and sit on the far right of the bar. If the bartender asks what you want, say, ‘Mr. Raven asked me to meet him at three,’” Frillian said. “Then wait. No matter who approaches you or what they say, stay calm and try to get information out of them. I’ll be nearby.”

"What if you hadn't shown up in time?"

“Then I’ll collect your body,” Frillie said, “but the chances are very slim. Go on, time is almost up.”

Yamazaki took a deep breath and pushed open the car door. The cold wind of the early morning rushed into the car. He walked towards the entrance leading underground, his steps heavy as if he were going to the execution ground.

Frillie watched him disappear down the steps, then took out a small mirror from her backpack. It was an alchemical artifact that could transmit images and sounds in one direction.

She cast a simple spell on the mirror. Ripples appeared on the mirror, revealing Yamazaki's perspective: a dimly lit staircase, the smell of cheap incense, and at the end of a heavy wooden door.

Yamazaki pushed open the door.

The interior of "Styx" was larger than I had imagined. The ceiling was four meters high, and the space was divided into several semi-enclosed booths, the lighting so dim that you could barely make out faces. Behind the bar stood a bald bartender, wiping glasses.

There were only three customers in the shop: two middle-aged men in suits were talking quietly in a corner, and a young man in a hoodie was sitting alone by the window with an untouched beer in front of him.

Yamazaki walked to the far right of the bar and sat down.

“Whiskey, on the rocks,” he said, his voice a little dry.

The bartender glanced at him, said nothing, poured the drink, and pushed it towards him.

Yamazaki took a sip of his drink; the burning sensation of the cheap whiskey calmed him down a little. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 2:57 a.m.

Three minutes left. He felt cold sweat breaking out on his back.

A calm voice came through the headphones: "Relax and slow down your breathing. Your heart rate is 128 right now, which is too high."

Yamazaki took a deep breath.

Time passed second by second.

It was 2:59. The door opened, and a woman entered. She was very young, probably no more than twenty-five, with long black hair, wearing a fitted black leather jacket, and a good figure. But her eyes were dark gold, with vertical pupils, just like those of the men in black.

She glanced around the store, her gaze settling on Yamazaki.

Then he walked straight over and sat down next to Yamazaki.

"Yamazaki Ryuichi?" the woman asked, her voice low and hoarse, tinged with the smell of smoke and alcohol.

Yes, it's me.

"Did you bring the things?" The woman didn't look at him, but gestured to the bartender. The bartender understood, poured a glass of clear liquid and pushed it towards him; it wasn't alcohol, but smelled like medicine.

“East, the things are in a safe place,” Yamazaki said, following Frilline’s instructions. “I need to confirm my mother’s whereabouts first.”

The woman finally turned to look at him, her eyes darting around as if she were looking at a product.

“Your mother, Miho Yamazaki, codename ‘Flying Car,’ was the former head of the Seventh Experimental Department of the Demon Clan.” The woman took a sip of the potion. “Fifteen years ago, she was subjected to ‘permanent cryogenics’ for disobeying orders, and she is now an important asset of the organization. If you want to see her, you can, but you’ll have to exchange her for something of equal value.”

"what?"

“You,” the woman smiled, revealing sharp teeth, “your bloodline purity has been reassessed; it’s not D grade, it’s C+. Moreover, your gene sequence contains rare stabilizing factors, making you ideal maternal material. The organization needs your genetic material, as well as you yourself as the prototype for the next generation of improved experimental subjects.”

Yamazaki's mind went blank.

Parent material? Body?

He understood the meaning of those words, but he couldn't accept them.

"I, no."

“You have no choice,” the woman said, setting down her cup. “Either you cooperate voluntarily, and we guarantee your mother’s thawing and basic human rights. Or we will forcibly collect the samples. The process won’t be comfortable, and your mother will be permanently destroyed.”

A naked threat.

Yamazaki's hands were trembling.

At that moment, Frillian's voice came through the earpiece: "Ask her what the Oni Clan's recent major operations are, and whether they are related to the Snake-Headed Eight Families."

Yamazaki gritted his teeth and said, "I can consider it. But I need to know what the organization has been up to lately? I've heard there's been some activity from the Snake-Headed Eight Family..."

The woman's eyes suddenly sharpened. "Who told you that?"

"It's all over the place," Yamazaki said, forcing himself to speak. "They're saying the Snake-Headed Eight Families are up to something big in Tokyo Bay. The Demon Clan can't possibly be unaware of it."

The woman stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

“You’ve gotten bolder, Yamazaki-kun,” she leaned closer, her voice even lower. “But you guessed right. Those old fogies from the Snake Clan want to open a door they shouldn’t have. And we’ll take what’s behind that door.”

"Door? What door?"

"The door to the burial ground of the gods," the woman said, a fanatical glint in her eyes. "The key to the resurrection of the gods. The Snake Clan has been preparing for thirty years, but we have been preparing for even longer. They used three A-rank hybrids as sacrifices, we..."

She suddenly stopped, realizing she had said too much.

"That's enough," the woman said, standing up. "I'll give you twenty-four hours to think it over. I'll come back at this time tomorrow. Bring everything you need for the transaction, and keep your mouth shut."

She turned to leave.

But Frillie's voice rang out again: "Stop her and ask one last question, 'Who is the Ghost Clan's mole within the Snake Clan?'"

Yamazaki didn't know where he got the courage, but he reached out and grabbed the woman's wrist.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “I have one more question.”

The woman frowned, trying to pull away, but Yamazaki held on tightly.

"You have an inside man in the Snake-Headed Eighth House, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't know so much." Yamazaki looked directly into her eyes. "Tell me who he is, and I'll agree to cooperate."

The woman's expression changed. From contempt, to surprise, and then to murderous intent.

"Let go," she said coldly.

Tell me your name.

"I told you to let go!"

The woman suddenly pulled a dagger from her waist and stabbed it into Yamazaki's throat.

But the dagger stopped three centimeters from her skin. It wasn't Yamazaki who blocked it; it was an icy blue thread that wrapped around the woman's wrist.

Frillie walked in through the door, her left hand outstretched, with several energy threads extending from each finger, connecting to every joint in the woman's body.

"Good evening," Frillian said, her voice particularly clear in the quiet bar. "Would you mind answering a few questions, Miss Raven?"

Chapter 492 Infiltrating the Ghost Clan - Frilline (Part 1)

The dagger paused three centimeters from Yamazaki's throat, its tip trembling slightly.

Raven, the liaison for the Ghosts, remained in an assassination stance, her eyes wide, incredulous astonishment reflected in her dark gold pupils. Her body was bound by countless icy blue threads, each precisely connected to major joints and muscle groups. The threads gleamed eerily in the dim bar lights.

She could sense how these threads worked: they didn't impose physical restraints, but rather interfered with the transmission of nerve signals. The instructions from the brain were cut off, distorted, and diluted before reaching her limbs. It was like standing in a body that didn't belong to her—conscious, yet unable to move an inch.

What kind of spiritual power is this?

No, it's not the power of words.

Raven had witnessed the power of Words used by A-level cadres in the organization—energy bursts, domains expanding, air trembling. But this silver-haired woman's method was completely different: quiet, precise, like surgical intervention. There was no dragon incantation, no bloodline pressure, and even the energy fluctuations were so faint as to be barely perceptible.

"Who are you?" the raven uttered through gritted teeth.

Frillie walked to the bar and glanced at the bartender. The bald man had already shrunk under the counter, trembling with his hands on his head. Of the other three customers, two men in suits were trying to sneak out through the back door, while the hooded young man watched with interest, his hand already reaching for his waist.

“I suggest you all stay still,” Frillian said without turning around, simply pointing behind her with her thumb. “Whoever touches the door within three seconds will lose control of their legs. Want to try?”

The hooded young man's hand froze in mid-air.

Frillie sat down opposite Raven, took the dagger from Raven's stiff hand, and placed it on the bar. The sound of metal striking the wooden countertop was particularly crisp in the deathly silent bar.

“Yamazaki-kun, you can let go now,” Frillie said.

Yamazaki then realized he was still holding Raven's wrist, quickly letting go and taking two steps back. His heart was pounding, and cold sweat had soaked his back.

"You, you've been here the whole time?" He looked at Frillie, then at the doorway. "When?"

“Before you go downstairs,” Frillie picked up Raven’s half-finished cup of potion, brought it to her nose and smelled it. “Dragon blood extract mixed with sedatives, and a trace of hallucinogenic ingredients. The standard drink of the Demons?”

The raven didn't answer; it just stared intently at her.

Frillie put down her cup and turned to Raven: "Now, let's talk. You just said that Miho Yamazaki, Yamazaki-kun's mother, is in a state of 'permanent cryogenics' at the Seventh Experimental Division of the Demon Clan. Where is she?"

The raven sneered, "You think I'd tell you?"

“Yes,” Frilian said calmly, “because you have no choice.”

She raised her right hand and gently touched the raven's forehead with her index finger, her magical perception piercing in like a fine needle.

This time, it wasn't a superficial search. Frillian needed the exact coordinates, the security procedures, and all the information about entering that "cryogenic facility." This would consume a huge amount of magic and cause irreversible damage to Raven's brain, but she had neither the time nor the means to consider humanitarian considerations.

The raven's body began to tremble. Its eyes rolled back, revealing large amounts of white. Saliva dribbled uncontrollably from the corners of its mouth.

She resisted, but to no avail.

Frillie "saw" fragments of memory:

—The entrance to an underground facility, disguised as an abandoned sewage treatment plant in the port area. Three layers of identity verification are required: fingerprint, iris scan, and voiceprint.

—A long corridor with cylindrical culture chambers on both sides, containing human bodies suspended inside, connected by a dense network of pipes.

—Sector Seven, cryogenic chamber A-07. The surface of the chamber is covered with frost, and through the observation window, the silhouette of a middle-aged woman can be seen. Her hair is the same color as Yamazaki's, and her face is as peaceful as if she is sleeping.

—There's also an alarm system. Any unauthorized activation will trigger the release of nerve gas and a self-destruct sequence. Unlocking requires the access cards of two officers of rank B or higher, as well as a dynamic password that changes every hour.

—The password generation algorithm, the current key is...

Frillie withdrew her hand, her face paling even more. Beads of sweat slid down her cheeks.

Raven slumped in her chair, her eyes vacant, her lips twitching. The forced search of her short-term memory center had damaged her hippocampus; she might never remember what happened today.

“The port area, the docks, underground at the sewage treatment plant,” Frillian said to Yamazaki. “Your mother is there. But we need two things to get into the frozen area: an access card and a dynamic password.”

Yamazaki's eyes lit up: "She's still alive?"

“The physiological state is alive, but consciousness is not.” Frilian paused. “‘Permanent cryopreservation’ is not freezing in the literal sense; it means that consciousness is locked in a deep coma, and the body is taken over by a life support system. Theoretically, it can be ‘thawed,’ but it requires specialized equipment and a medical team.”

Moreover, whether the brain can be properly revived after fifteen years of cryopreservation is unknown. But Frillie didn't say it aloud.

She turned to the hooded young man: "You, come here."

The young man hesitated for a moment, but still walked over. He pulled down his hood, revealing a fairly handsome face, around twenty years old, with a black earring in his left ear, and his eyes held the wariness and shrewdness typical of street thugs.