Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

The physical exertion required to slow down time to zero is terrifying. Reducing the flow of time by fifty times means his body has to perform fifty times the workload per unit of time. Muscle contraction, nerve conduction, energy metabolism—everything has to operate at fifty times the efficiency.

It's like driving a family car at race car speeds; the engine will quickly overheat, the tires will wear out quickly, and the whole system will be on the verge of collapse.

Lu Mingfei felt exactly that way. Every muscle in his body ached, every nerve screamed, and every breath felt like swallowing flames. The Blood Explosion had indeed enhanced his physical abilities, but enhancement didn't equate to limitlessness. His body was still a human body, and it still had its limits.

And the limit is right in front of us.

“But it doesn’t matter,” the monkey-faced man continued, his voice full of smugness, “Even if you can still use Time Zero, so what? Can you save one person, two people, or everyone?”

He pointed to the waitresses around him. They were still huddled on the hood of the sports car, shivering, their cheongsams tattered, their bodies exposed to the cold rain.

“Look at these girls,” the monkey-faced man said. “They’re all innocent; you’ve dragged them into this mess. If you continue to resist, I’ll have my men ‘treat’ them properly. Right here in front of you, right here in this downpour.”

His voice turned cold: "You are heroes, nobles, mixed-race elites. Can you just stand by and watch these innocent girls die because of you?"

Caesar's face darkened.

Lu Mingfei's breathing became more rapid.

The monkey-faced man had exploited their weakness. Neither Caesar nor Lu Mingfei were the type to stand idly by and watch innocent people die before their eyes. Especially Caesar—the pride of the Gattuso family and the sense of honor of the nobility made him unable to accept that innocent people would be implicated because of him.

“So, give up,” the monkey-faced man spread his hands, gesturing for them to leave. “Put down your weapons and come with us. I guarantee these girls will leave safely. I also guarantee Miss Zhen will be well taken care of.”

His last sentence was delivered in a nauseatingly ambiguous way. She truly trembled in Caesar's arms.

Lu Mingfei gritted his teeth. His fingers gripped the empty MP7, now just a fire poker, but it was the only weapon he had.

Caesar looked down at Zhen in his arms. Zhen looked at him, her eyes filled with trust, not fear. She believed in him, believed he would make the right decision.

Caesar raised his head and looked at Lu Mingfei.

Their eyes met in mid-air.

They all knew that surrender was not an option. Once they laid down their weapons and became prisoners, their fate would be entirely in the hands of the other side. The monkey-faced man's so-called "guarantee" was worth less than a piece of waste paper.

But if they don't surrender, those waitresses will die, they really might die.

A difficult choice.

The rain was still pouring down, the flames were still burning, and time was ticking away.

The monkey-faced man grew impatient. He raised his hand and made a gesture.

A young biker gang member approached a waitress. The girl looked only eighteen or nineteen years old, her face still bearing a childlike innocence, and she was now crying so hard she was almost fainting. The boy grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her vulnerable neck.

With his other hand, he raised a dagger.

“Ten seconds left,” the monkey-faced man said, his voice icy. “If you don’t put down your weapons in ten seconds, I’ll have my men begin. Starting with her, one by one.”

"ten."

"Nine."

"Eight."

The countdown began in the rainy night, like a death knell.

Lu Mingfei's breathing almost stopped. His mind raced, searching for any possible solution. Time Zero could be used once more, but it could only last a few seconds at most. What could he do in a few seconds? He could save one girl, but not everyone. He could kill the monkey-faced man, but not all the bikers.

"seven."

"six."

Caesar tightened his arms, holding Zhen even more protectively in his embrace. His eyes were fixed on the boy holding the dagger, the golden light in them growing ever brighter.

He's gathering his strength. He's preparing.

If he really had to take action, he would kill the boy first, then the monkey-faced man, and then everyone else he could see.

But that would lead to a brawl. Stray bullets would hit the waitresses, flames would spread, and they could really get injured.

"five."

"Four."

Lu Mingfei's forehead veins bulged.

Three seconds left.

two seconds.

Chapter 548 Satellites and Bombers

The street suddenly lit up.

The torrential rain continued, the large raindrops appearing like silver threads in the bright sunlight, piercing vertically from the sky to the earth. But above this downpour, a huge circular hole had appeared in the thick clouds.

The moonlight pierced through the rain clouds and illuminated the town of Chizuru.

It's not natural moonlight. Natural moonlight couldn't be this bright.

The bright moon hung in the stormy night sky, its silvery brilliance even overshadowing the towering flames of the Mambo Internet Cafe. A beam of light descended from the sky, its diameter spanning several kilometers, enveloping the entire street, the whole neighborhood, and even half the town.

Raindrops shimmered in the beam of light, like millions of falling crystals. The flames lost their color in the intense light, becoming pale shadows. Everyone's faces were illuminated, every expression, every drop of sweat, every speck of dirt was terrifyingly clear.

The bizarre sight left the biker gang stunned.

They tilted their heads back, mouths agape, forgetting the guns in their hands, the enemies before them, and where they were. Some even unconsciously let go, the shotguns clattering into the puddle, the splashes of water shimmering like shattered diamonds in the moonlight.

Then, all sorts of cell phone ringtones started playing.

Dozens, even hundreds of cell phones rang at the same time. The melodies varied, ranging from pop songs and anime theme songs to simple chords. But the timing of the ringing was so precise and synchronized, as if an invisible hand had pressed the answer button on every single phone at the same moment.

The boys snapped out of their shock and frantically pulled out their phones. Some were still in shock, their movements slow; others, as if burned, quickly pulled out their phones and pressed the answer button.

But they didn't hear anything.

Because it wasn't a phone call, it was a text message.

The exact same text message appeared on every phone screen. The sender was listed as an "unknown number," but the message began in bold black font:

[This is a text message from Eva, the executive officer of Kassel College.]

The boys froze. Most of them didn't recognize the name "Kassel College," let alone know who "Eva" was. But the text message continued, and its contents sent a chill down their spines:

"On behalf of the entire executive committee of the academy, I issue this solemn statement. What is shining on you now is the Russian 'Flag VI' artificial moon, and what is creating gaps in the clouds is a B-1B bomber belonging to the Okinawa Naval Base. If this were not Japanese territory, incendiary bombs would already be falling on your heads."

"If you dare to harm any of the academy's officers, I guarantee you will regret it."

"Don't try to provoke us until you understand how terrible Kassel College is."

"You have five minutes to evacuate from the street."

The text message ended there. There was no signature, no contact information, only that cold countdown at the end: five minutes.

The bikers exchanged bewildered glances. They looked at their phone screens, then at the eerie "moon" in the sky, and finally at the three people they had surrounded at the end of the street—Caesar protecting Zhen, and Lu Mingfei leaning on his knees, panting heavily. The two stood back to back, like actors in the center of a stage under the bright light.

"Russia's artificial moon?" the purple-haired boy stammered. "Is that...that's a satellite? Can they control satellites?"

"And B-1B bombers," another boy said, his face pale. "American strategic bombers? They can even mobilize those?"

Panic began to spread.

These biker gang teenagers are, in essence, just a group of misguided young people. They race cars, sell drugs, fight, and even kill, but they never imagined that one day they would face such a surreal threat.

Controlling satellites? Mobilizing bombers? Issuing a death ultimatum across the entire Pacific Ocean?

This is completely beyond their comprehension.

"Boss, boss!" the boy, who looked only seventeen or eighteen, said tremblingly, his voice trembling with fear. "I think we should just give up! They can control satellites and mobilize American bombers! If we keep playing with them, we're doomed!"

He spoke for the majority of people.

The boys from the Red Guards never imagined they'd be facing such a formidable person and organization tonight. Before coming, they'd only received money and three photos—photos of Caesar, Chu Zihang, and Lu Mingfei. The person who gave them the mission was in direct contact with the monkey-faced man; they didn't even know who these three men were, where they came from, or what their backgrounds were.

They thought it was just a regular "gangland feud," a lucrative "dirty job."

But now, reality tells them: you've messed with the wrong people.

The monkey-faced man's hands were trembling.

He gripped the short-barreled shotgun, the muzzle still pointed in Lu Mingfei's direction. But his fingers were trembling, the veins on the back of his hands were bulging, and sweat dripped down his fingers, leaving damp marks on the cold gun barrel.

He had no idea what the Kassel College was.

But he knew that the other side possessed the ability to control satellites, bombers, and mobile phone networks—a capability that went beyond the reach of ordinary gangs or even ordinary governments. This even appeared to pose a challenge to the Japanese government.

It would be incredibly foolish to be at odds with such an organization.

but.

The image of that powerful figure flashed through the monkey-faced man's mind: cold, authoritative, and brooking no disobedience.

"Both Caesar and Chu Zihang are optional," that official once said, "but what I specifically want is Lu Mingfei's life. If you can't get his life, you'll have to consider giving your own to atone for your sins."

The monkey-faced man shivered.

He recalled how that official dealt with traitors—it was worse than death. He had witnessed it firsthand: a man who had failed a mission was handed back to that official, and three days later, a body was found floating in Tokyo Bay, cut into dozens of pieces, each carefully wrapped in plastic sheeting and neatly arranged on the beach.

The forensic examination later determined that the person was still alive before being dismembered.

The monkey-faced man swallowed. His throat was dry, and even swallowing was painful.

He couldn't put the gun down.

To put it down would be to disobey that person's orders. To not put it down would be to anger Kassel College, which controls satellites and bombers.

dilemma.

It's a dead end.

Just then, the phone rang again.

This time it wasn't everyone's phone, just the monkey-faced man's. The ringtone was specially set by him—a sinister melody, like the wailing of a ghost. It was "that person's" exclusive ringtone.

The monkey-faced man froze. Slowly, almost mechanically, he pulled his phone out of his pocket with his left hand.

The screen is lit. A new text message.

The sender's number was displayed as "unknown," but the monkey-faced man knew who it was.

He opened the text message.

The message is very simple, consisting of only one sentence: "Raise your hand and extend your middle finger."

There was no explanation, no reason, only an order.