Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

The last few motorcycles gathered together and sped straight ahead.

This was their last chance. In ancient warfare, once the cavalry broke through the arquebusiers' lines, they could slaughter at will. The boys roared, their rooster-comb-like hair trembling violently. They were the core members of the Red Guard, the ones who had truly committed evil deeds—drug trafficking, assault, and even murder. Those who don't value the lives of others often don't value their own lives much either.

They rushed to a position twenty meters away from Caesar.

Fifteen meters.

ten meters.

Caesar did not retreat. He pulled a grenade from his tactical belt, an M67 defensive grenade with a kill radius of fifteen meters.

He pulled out the safety pin and released the grip.

The sound of the grip snapping open was almost inaudible amidst the gunfire.

Then, he rolled the grenade along the road.

The grenade tumbled in the floodwater, leaving a trail as it rolled toward the direction the motorcycle had come from.

The biker gang members were stunned when they saw the dark green sphere, their eyes filled with terror.

They overestimated Caesar's limits; if there were rocket launchers in the equipment crate, Caesar would have used them too.

"boom!!!"

A burst of flame shot into the sky. Shrapnel flew everywhere, and the shockwave swept across the area. The first two motorcycles were blown into the air, the riders tumbling before crashing heavily to the ground, motionless. The motorcycles behind them braked suddenly, but the road was slippery, and they lost control, colliding with each other and throwing their riders to the ground.

But one car sped through the flames of the explosion.

The black Ducati, like a black lightning bolt, leaps into the air.

The monkey-faced man hid behind his loyal followers, determined to reach Caesar himself. He used his comrade's body as a shield, blocking most of the grenade fragments. Although he himself was wounded, with small metal fragments embedded in his face and arms, and covered in blood, he was still alive, and his motorcycle still worked.

Ducati leaped over the smoke and dust of the explosion, over his fallen companions, and over the burning wreckage.

It leaped over Caesar's head.

The rapidly spinning wheel slashed down towards Caesar's head, while at the same time, the monkey-faced man's blade, a short wakizashi, pierced towards Caesar's heart.

He left everything behind. Hormones surged through his veins, drugs numbed his pain, accelerated his reactions, and enhanced his strength.

He's going to kill this foreigner!

If Caesar doesn't die, then he must!

Caesar raised his leg.

It's not dodging, it's not retreating, it's—

Kick.

His leg lashed out like a steel whip, the instep striking the Ducati's fuel tank with pinpoint accuracy.

"boom!"

The monkey-faced man suddenly realized that his motorcycle was gone. He was floating in the air, his body continuing to move forward due to inertia, but the motorcycle was flying backward.

The Ducati, traveling at 60 kilometers per hour, was kicked backward by Kaiser, crashing onto the road and sliding for more than ten meters before coming to a stop. The fuel tank ruptured, causing gasoline to leak, but miraculously, it did not catch fire.

The monkey-faced man fell to the ground, rolled several times, and barely came to a stop. He looked up and saw Caesar.

Caesar stood before him, looking down at him. Rain streamed down Caesar's blond hair, across his hardened face, and into his cold blue eyes.

Then Caesar extended his hand.

Caesar reached for his head with his left hand. The monkey-faced man tried to dodge, but Caesar was too fast. His hand gripped his hair like an iron clamp, lifting him off the ground.

A sharp pain shot through his scalp, and the monkey-faced man screamed in agony.

Caesar remained expressionless. His right hand still gripped the Desert Eagle, the muzzle raised and aimed at the Ducati.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Seven shots were fired in quick succession, emptying all the bullets in the magazine.

Bullets rained down on the $100,000 motorcycle. The four-cylinder engine was ripped open, leaking oil mixed with gasoline. The axle snapped, the wheels bent askew. The silver exhaust pipe was smashed, the leather seat torn apart. The prized Ducati emblem, the red battle flag… all were smashed to pieces, reduced to scrap metal.

This is the monkey-faced man's beloved motorcycle. He cherishes it like a beautiful woman; he once killed someone for it, and he spent all his savings and drug-dealing money on it.

But Caesar destroyed it like he crumpled a paper cup.

Chapter 553 Tell me, who is that person?

The monkey-faced man stared at the Ducati, now a complete wreck, a look of despair in his eyes. But he had no time to feel pain—fear overwhelmed all other emotions.

He was now facing a hard face and a pair of cold eyes.

He really urinated. Warm liquid flowed down his trouser leg, mixing with rainwater and blood, dripping into the puddles.

“I mean what I say, I will definitely kill you,” Caesar said, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather, “but before that, you have to tell me who the mastermind is.”

The monkey-faced man's lips trembled. He wanted to speak, but fear prevented him from making a sound.

Caesar had no patience to wait.

He raised the Desert Eagle; though it was empty, the gun was still heavy. He slammed the butt of the gun into the monkey-faced man's ankle.

"Crack," the sound of bone breaking.

The monkey-faced man let out a shrill scream as his ankle twisted at an eerie angle, the bone piercing through his skin and exposed, white and gleaming.

“Don’t dawdle, I’m not a fan of torture,” Caesar said.

He raised the gun handle again and slammed it down on the monkey-faced man's knee.

"Click".

This time the sound was crisper. The kneecap shattered, and the lower leg bent backward at an impossible angle. The monkey-faced man's scream turned into hoarse gasps; he was almost unconscious, but the excruciating pain kept him conscious.

“I am, I am,” the monkey-faced man said, struggling in pain.

Caesar then realized that the other party only spoke Japanese.

He turned his head and looked in Lu Mingfei's direction.

Lu Mingfei was still hiding behind the bulldozer, his face pale, clutching the Uzi submachine gun, his fingers white from the strain. His physical strength had reached its limit; the continuous use of the weapon for zero hours had brought his body to the brink of collapse, and now he didn't even have the strength to stand up.

But he still struggled, shouting in Japanese, "He said, he said he'll be gone in a long time. He's in so much pain he's about to faint. Can he have some alcohol?"

"Drinking at this hour?" Caesar frowned.

In this situation and at this time, how could this sleazy man still be thinking about drinking?

The monkey-faced man pulled a test tube containing a purple liquid from his sleeve.

With lightning speed, he put the test tube into his mouth and bit it hard.

The sound of shattering glass was crisp and terrifying. Purple liquid flowed into his throat, which he greedily sucked, swallowing every drop. The broken glass cut his lips and tongue, and blood mixed with the purple liquid dripped from the corners of his mouth, but he paid no heed.

"Suicide by poison?" Caesar was shocked, but it was too late to stop him.

Half a test tube fell from the monkey-faced man's mouth and shattered in the rain. The monkey-faced man's arm went limp, his eyes rolled back, and his body began to convulse violently.

Caesar released his grip, and the monkey-faced man fell into the puddle, his body contorted like a fish out of water.

But strangely, his heartbeat didn't stop. Instead, it returned to normal.

Previously, due to his injury and medication, his heart rate exceeded two hundred beats per minute, like an overloaded engine. But now, his heart rate has dropped to around fifty beats per minute, beating powerfully at an unusually normal frequency.

Caesar heard it clearly through the Kamaitachi.

The monkey-faced man's body was burning hot. Rainwater hitting him produced white steam, like cold water being poured over a red-hot iron. His skin began to redden, and his veins bulged beneath, like writhing earthworms.

He was in a very strange state, seemingly getting healthier, yet also seemingly dying.

Then, the monkey-faced man opened his eyes. His eyes turned a ferocious gold. His pupils shrank to the size of pinpoints, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot.

Caesar didn't have time to dodge.

The monkey-faced man's hand shot out like lightning.

In just a few dozen seconds, his fingernails had transformed into sharp, bony claws. The black, curved, eagle-claw-like claws easily pierced Caesar's tactical vest and plunged into his chest.

A sharp pain shot through him, and Caesar groaned as he staggered backward.

If Caesar had been under tight security, the monkey-faced man would have been unable to succeed. However, the monkey-faced man never demonstrated any extraordinary physical abilities. He was merely a sleazy underwear thief, a gang leader who ruled his men through drugs and violence. Caesar had no reason to be unable to control an ordinary human being.

But now, the monkey-faced man has suddenly turned into a beast.

His reaction speed and strength suddenly reached a level close to Caesar's, no, it might even have surpassed Caesar's normal level.

He threw himself onto Caesar, embracing him like passionate lovers. His bony claws were still embedded in Caesar's muscles, and his sharp teeth were already biting into the blood vessels in Caesar's neck.

Caesar didn't have time to draw his weapon, Dictator; he didn't even have time to raise his hand to block.

He could only watch helplessly as that blood-stained and crazed face drew ever closer to his neck.

But just as those teeth were about to bite down—

A long, black sword pierced the monkey-faced man's heart from behind.

The blade pierced his chest, just centimeters from Caesar's throat. Blood flowed down the blade, dripping onto Caesar's tactical vest.

The monkey-faced man froze. He looked down at the tip of the knife in his chest, disbelief in his eyes. Then, the golden light faded from his eyes, returning to a murky, ashen color.

The long sword slashed upwards, slinging him away from Caesar's body and throwing him into the puddle.

"thump."

The monkey-faced man fell into the water, splashing up murky water. He twitched a few times, then lay still. Blood gushed from the wounds on his chest and back, spreading in the puddle and staining a large area red.

Caesar raised his head and looked at the owner of the long sword.

Chu Zihang stood in the rain, soaked to the bone. His clothes were riddled with holes, and small metal shards were embedded in his flesh. Part of his hair was singed, his face bore the marks of smoke, and his lips were chapped.

But he is still alive.

Chu Zihang was emitting intense white steam, a result of his overheated body encountering the cold rain. His eyes remained calm and composed, as if nothing had happened.

He glanced at the wound on Caesar's chest, then at the monkey-faced man on the ground, and said calmly:

"I'm late."

"Senior brother, are you alright?!" Lu Mingfei exclaimed in surprise, his voice trembling with excitement. He looked at Chu Zihang, who was soaking wet, steaming, and covered in scorch marks and holes in his clothes, and could hardly believe his eyes.

Just minutes before, he saw Chu Zihang rush into the fire, and then the flames engulfed his figure. Lu Mingfei thought Chu Zihang was dead, that his always calm and always reliable senior brother was forever left in that burning building.