Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

"Oh, I see," Xun finally said, her voice filled with genuine surprise and a hint of respect. She handed the documents back, her fingers rubbing the cool handle as she picked up the entry stamp, trying to make sure this wasn't just a vivid daydream.

Just then, a discordant commotion abruptly shattered the original order of the hall.

First came a series of sharp, ear-piercing screechs of brakes from outside, the rubber tires screeching against the pavement. This was followed by a few short gasps, not of fear, but more like an instinctive reaction to the sudden turn of events. Finally, a rapid, heavy thud of footsteps surged in from all directions, swift and orderly.

Xun instinctively looked up at the monitor screen hanging inside the counter. Just one glance, and her blood nearly froze.

On the screen, the driveway outside the airport was completely blocked by more than a dozen pure black Mercedes-Benz sedans, which stood like a group of silent steel behemoths blocking the main road. What alarmed her even more was that dozens of men dressed in identical black suits were filing in from different entrances and flooding into the arrival hall.

They were tall, walked in unison, and had expressionless faces. Most unsettling were the obvious, unnatural bulges at the waists beneath their suit jackets, where something was concealed: a dagger? Or something more deadly, a firearm?

These people quickly dispersed, shoulder to shoulder, their backs to the customs counter area, but facing all the entrances and waiting areas in the hall, forming an impenetrable human wall. Their eyes were cold and sharp, like unsheathed blades, silently sweeping over the travelers trying to approach or leave.

Several passengers who were heading towards the exit froze on the spot after being glanced at by that gaze. Their faces turned pale, and they retreated awkwardly, not daring to utter a sound.

The underworld! And not just any ordinary yakuza organization. Judging by their scale, they've deployed their elite forces and sealed off this area of ​​the airport!

Chapter 561 Customs Girl and Angers (Part 2)

Xun's heart pounded, her adrenaline surged. Almost without hesitation, her left hand reached under the counter where there was a red emergency hotline directly to airport security. She grabbed the receiver, her right hand already dialing, her eyes fixed on the movements of the men in black. Lowering her voice, she spoke quickly and urgently:

"Hello! Security? This is Customs Counter 12 in the International Arrivals Hall! There's an unusual situation! There are a lot of people, more than thirty, all wearing black suits, and they are suspected of carrying weapons! They have blocked Section C and Exit D! Requesting immediate support! Repeat, requesting immediate support."

The sound from the receiver abruptly stopped.

Xun's words caught in her throat. She gripped the receiver, but all she heard was a dead, busy tone. A chill ran down her spine. She slowly, very slowly, raised her head.

Before she knew it, an elderly man dressed in a dark kimono had appeared before her counter. He looked to be around sixty years old, with his hair neatly combed, his face lean and even somewhat kind, but his slightly narrowed eyes held no warmth.

His right hand hung at his side, his fingers pinching a section of telephone wire that had been neatly severed by a sharp blade. The cut was clean, revealing the colorful wires inside.

The elderly man gently placed the telephone cord on the black table in front of Xun, his movements as delicate as if he were setting down something fragile. His voice was soft, with the hoarseness characteristic of the elderly, yet every word was clear, "I'm sorry to trouble you. However, you don't need to make this call."

Kaoru's pupils contracted sharply. She saw the elder raise his hands, seemingly to adjust the cuffs of his kimono. In that instant, she caught a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of his hand—two sinister, serpentine cobras!

No, it wasn't just snakes; each snake had multiple heads. Five lifelike snake heads were wrapped around his five fingers, and each snake head wore a tall crown in the shape of a flame, both sinister and majestic.

Xun's mind flashed back to an image she had once seen in a folklore guide: it was the "Naga" from Buddhism and Southeast Asian mythology, regarded as a dragon or giant serpent god, the more heads it had, the more powerful it was. In some legends, a five-headed Naga symbolizes a demon that brings disaster.

The elder quickly withdrew his hand into the wide sleeve of his kimono, as if that fleeting glimpse had been merely a hallucination caused by the fragrance. He nodded slightly, his tone even bordering on polite: "I apologize for the commotion. It was nothing, it will be over soon, please continue with your work."

After speaking, he turned away from Xun and faced several airport guards not far away, who looked as if they were facing a formidable enemy, their hands on their batons but trembling with fear. The elder bowed deeply to them with an impeccable, almost perfect ninety-degree posture.

"Please be patient," he said, maintaining his bow, his voice echoing through the suddenly silent hall. "We will not cause any trouble; we are simply welcoming an important guest. We apologize for any inconvenience caused."

Then, he straightened up and began to slowly scan the passengers waiting to enter the hall, like a hawk searching for its prey.

He's looking for someone. Who could it be that warrants such a grand gesture, even going so far as to openly block the national border to welcome them? Is it a family elder who betrayed his clan? Or the leader of a rival gang? Once found, should he be sent away, or dealt with on the spot?

An eerie silence fell over the hall. All the sounds of conversation, weeping, and the clatter of suitcase wheels vanished. Only the suppressed, heavy breathing and the uncontrollable pounding of one's own heart remained.

Xun felt her palms were covered in cold sweat. She looked at the silver-haired old man named Angers in front of the counter. He was still standing there, his expression calm and composed. He even raised his hand to gently adjust the position of his tortoiseshell glasses, as if the tense situation in front of him, which seemed like a dark cloud hanging over the city and could break out at any moment, was just a small commotion in the airport.

“This gentleman said,” Angers suddenly spoke, addressing Xun, his voice still gentle, even somewhat reassuring, “that I can continue working. My passport, I think, is still with you?”

Xun could hardly believe his ears. Didn't he see it? Didn't he feel the almost tangible danger? Even if he had been a soldier, that was probably decades ago, and he was most likely a civilian staff officer.

Doesn't he know how ruthless and lawless these Japanese yakuza organizations are? To still insist on gentlemanly manners at a time like this is simply too old-fashioned, or rather, frighteningly naive.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Finishing her work first might get this seemingly clueless old man out of this mess as soon as possible. She picked up the entry stamp; with a soft "thud," the bright red "Entry Permitted" stamp was affixed to Angers' visa page.

As she handed the passport back to Angers, Xun leaned forward slightly and whispered quickly, in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Go quickly!" That was all she could do. Sending away one more innocent traveler meant one less life that might have been caught in the crossfire. She even sighed inwardly at the old man's composure in the face of danger—while grace was admirable, a lack of judgment could sometimes be fatal.

And so they parted hastily. Xun silently memorized the name on the passport: Hilbert Jean Angers. Judging from his demeanor and accent, he seemed like an English gentleman; yet the name itself was full of French romanticism. What a contradictory and fascinating person.

Angers took the passport but did not leave immediately. Instead, he calmly took out an exquisite leather passport holder from his pocket and prepared to put the passport away.

"Is this Principal Angers?" a voice came from behind Angers. It was the elderly man in the kimono who had just cut the phone line. He walked to a spot two steps behind Angers and bowed slightly.

Angers finally put his passport away safely, then slowly turned around to face the elder, raising an eyebrow slightly: "You're the one who came to pick me up?"

The elder, Yoshitaka Hasegawa, suddenly stepped forward, not to attack, but with lightning speed, respectfully lifting Angers' rather worn-out suitcase from beside his feet. Then, he bowed deeply, almost touching his forehead to his knees, his voice rising abruptly, filled with heartfelt respect and trepidation:

"Inuyama Hasegawa Yoshitaka, welcome Principal to Japan! You must be tired from your journey! I was so blind that I didn't recognize you at first glance, I'm truly ashamed!" He maintained his bowing posture, not daring to look up, "I never expected you to look so young!"

"Looks like?" Angers' lips curled into a half-smile as he looked Yilong up and down. "I do think I'm still quite young."

His gaze swept over the men in black standing solemnly like statues around him, and his brows furrowed slightly. "But, bringing so many people here, is it to intimidate me, or to put on a show?"

Yoshitaka bowed even lower, explaining urgently, "Absolutely not! Principal, please understand! The situation in Tokyo has been somewhat complicated lately. Bringing extra men was simply to ensure your absolute safety! If there has been any offense, please forgive me!" Sweat was almost beading on his forehead.

Chapter 562 Welcome Principal Angers to Japan for Guidance

“Safety?” Angers chuckled softly, his laughter carrying an indescribable meaning.

He suddenly bent down, opened the suitcase that Yilong was carrying, took out a folding knife with an antique design, and casually fiddled with it. Angers skillfully fastened the leather strap on the scabbard to his right wrist, the movement as casual as putting on a watch.

“If anyone can threaten my safety,” he said casually as he adjusted his belt, “the people you brought are nothing more than a bunch of moving targets to him.”

Yilong stiffened for a moment, and his head drooped even lower.

Angers straightened up, then remembered the other person's self-introduction and repeated, "Hasegawa Yoshitaka, I think I vaguely remember that name. What grade are you in?"

Upon hearing this question, Yilong's face flushed with excitement. He immediately straightened his back, his voice becoming exceptionally loud and clear, and answered with great pride: "Reporting to the Principal! I enrolled in 1955 and graduated with a degree in Precision Machinery! I was fortunate enough to have attended your lectures on 'Introduction to the Dragon Family Genealogy' at Kassel College!"

“Oh, I remember now,” Angers said with a look of sudden realization, nodding and lingering for a moment on Yilong’s now weathered face. “It’s you. I remember you when you were little, you had a baby face and seemed quite shy.”

"Yes! Principal, you have a good memory!" Yilong's voice trembled slightly with excitement. "Time waits for no one, and my appearance has changed drastically. I'm ashamed! I can't compare to you, Principal... Your charm remains as it was back then!"

Angers shook his head, his face showing a regretful expression, like an elder seeing a younger person stray from the right path, and his tone was slightly reproachful: "At such an old age, still involved in the underworld? You're really not learning anything good."

This seemingly casual criticism sent a chill down Yoshitaka's spine, and he repeatedly agreed without daring to argue.

Angers stopped looking at him and turned to Ayanokouji Kaoru behind the counter, whose face was still somewhat pale. That gentle, warm smile returned to his face, as if the sharpness and authority of the moment before had been an illusion. He even magically pulled a vibrant red rose from the inside pocket of his suit—no one saw when he had prepared it—and gently placed it on Kaoru's counter.

"Judging from your accent, you must be from Kagoshima?" he said with a smile, his voice gentle. "That's a wonderful place, warm and bright, producing many kind and beautiful girls." His gaze fell sincerely on Kaoru's face. "I hope that next time I come to Japan, I'll be greeted by such a lovely girl."

Without waiting for Xun's response—who was completely stunned—he turned gracefully and strode calmly toward the exit blocked by the men in black.

Yoshitaka Hasegawa immediately grabbed his suitcase and followed closely behind, his posture as respectful as an old servant. At the same time, all the men in black in the hall seemed to receive a silent command, and in unison, they stepped aside, making way for a wide passage. When Angers passed in front of them, these yakuza members, who had just been menacing, bowed deeply to Angers in perfect unison, the angles perfectly synchronized, the scene solemn to the point of being almost eerie.

Angers, without glancing to the side, simply waved his left hand casually, like a general inspecting troops, and said casually, "Hello, students!"

"Hello, Principal!!!"

The rough, loud voices of dozens of men merged together, booming like muffled thunder under the dome of the hall, the echoes reverberating endlessly.

Angers' figure disappeared at the exit. Yi Long followed closely behind. Then, the dozens of men in black quickly withdrew, silently and orderly following behind. They were scattered behind and on both sides of Angers, like huge black wings suddenly folding, or like stars surrounding the moon. And Angers was that cold and distant moon, the only and undisputed center in this eerie scene.

Ayanokouji Kaoru stared in disbelief at everything, still clutching the fragrant rose in her hand. The entire hall—passengers, staff, even the still-shaken security guards—froze in place, their faces etched with disbelief, bewilderment, and shock. After the deathly silence, a suppressed, murmur of discussion erupted.

Night fell like a thick velvet blanket soaked in ink, slowly covering Tokyo. Neon lights lit up one after another, transforming this megacity into a city that never sleeps, flowing with rivers of light.

The convoy drove in silence, passing through the bustling streets of Shibuya, and finally came to a slow stop in front of a skyscraper entirely encased in black mirrored glass. The building's surface reflected the dazzling street scene and the hazy night sky, like a huge and mysterious black crystal standing in the heart of the city.

Yoshitaka Hasegawa got out of the car first, jogged around to the rear door where Angers was, took a deep breath, and then opened the door with the utmost respect, one hand guarding the top of the door frame:

"Principal, please!"

Angers stepped out of the car and looked up. On the front of the building, a huge, intricately designed neon sign hung high, emitting a dreamy peach-pink glow in the night, outlining several enchanting Chinese characters—Tamamo-no-Mae Club.

“Tamamo-no-Mae…” Angers repeated the name in a low voice, a playful smile appearing on his lips. “Instead of taking me to the shrine where you worship your ancestors, or to your newly built headquarters building, you brought me directly to this kind of club?” His tone was unreadable, but rather carried a hint of intrigued curiosity.

Yoshitaka quickly stepped forward, bowed slightly, and explained, "Principal, you misunderstand. This is the family's most prestigious club, and the welcome reception prepared for you tonight is held here." He paused, a knowing smile appearing on his face. "The patriarch specifically instructed that you, Principal, were a romantic gentleman in your youth, and you truly appreciate the beauty of the world. This 'Tamamo-no-Mae' is a veritable 'holy land' in the hearts of Tokyo men! It's said that seeing all the beautiful women on the streets of Shibuya is not as good as taking a stroll through the Tamamo-no-Mae club."

"Oh? Such a great reputation. Is there any special story behind the name 'Tamamo-no-Mae'?" Angers asked casually as he followed Yoshitaka toward the two huge, gleaming black glass doors.

Seeing that the principal seemed interested, Yoshitaka explained even more enthusiastically: "'Tamamo-no-Mae' is the name of a nine-tailed fox spirit in Japanese mythology. Legend has it that she was originally a peerless beauty who brought chaos to the world. Born in India, she later traveled to China, transformed into Daji, and bewitched King Zhou of Shang, leading to the downfall of the Shang Dynasty. After being hunted down by Jiang Ziya, she fled to Japan, taking the name 'Tamamo-no-Mae,' and gained the extreme favor of Emperor Toba, almost bringing down the court. In the end, it was only through the combined efforts of the greatest Onmyoji, Abe no Yasachika, and his ancestor, Abe no Seimei, that she was finally killed in Nasuno." He pushed open the heavy glass door, making an inviting gesture, his voice low, carrying a hint of pride and mystery, "And the main attraction of our club... is women of unparalleled beauty, like 'Tamamo-no-Mae,' capable of captivating a nation. I hope the principal will be satisfied."

Upon hearing this, Angers chuckled and stepped through the gate, glancing sideways at Yilong with a mischievous glint in his eyes: "That kid Ahe... does he even remember what kind of woman I like? I should make it clear beforehand that I have very discerning taste."

Yoshitaka's smile grew even more confident. He straightened his back and said in a resolute tone, "Please rest assured, Principal! No matter what type you prefer—whether it's pure, beautiful, intellectual, or charming—the Inuyama family has absolute confidence that we can provide you with a satisfactory 'answer'."

Chapter 563 The Inuyama Family's Hospitality (Part 1)

The door closed silently behind us.

In an instant, it was as if I had passed through an invisible barrier, completely shutting out the noise of the outside world. The world before me was ethereal, crystal clear, and bizarre, like the "pure land of lapis lazuli" described in Buddhist scriptures, or a surreal illusion created by modern technology.

Beneath your feet lies a seamless, spliced ​​crystal glass floor, beneath which countless LED lights are currently shifting and changing in a mesmerizing array of colors. Walking on it feels like treading on a galaxy, like being bathed in rosy light. Looking up, the ceiling is a complete replica of an ancient Japanese palace, with dark wooden beams, vermilion pillars, and soaring eaves, its rustic elegance creating a wonderful contrast and fusion with the futuristic feel beneath your feet. A vermilion wooden staircase spirals up the four walls, like a floating bridge leading to the sky.

Anyone who steps into "Tamamo-no-Mae" for the first time will experience a strong sense of dizziness and unreality, as if they have escaped gravity and are floating in a strange dreamscape woven from light, color, and classical and modern elements.

Before Angers could fully appreciate this spectacle, music began to play. It wasn't deafening electronic music, but a melodious duet of the shamisen and the clear shakuhachi, with an ancient and enchanting tune.

In the center of the dance floor, about twenty young women gracefully appeared. They wore magnificent "maple-red" kimonos, yet their skin shimmered with a strange and dazzling "golden" luster—not coarse gold powder, but a delicate, even, pale golden sheen that seemed to emanate from within, making them appear less like real people and more like exquisitely crafted, living dolls made of pure gold. The mythical nine-tailed fox spirit "Tamamo-no-Mae" is said to possess a "golden body" that even emperors could not resist. At this moment, the Tamamo-no-Mae Club "revived" this legendary allure in this way.

Even more astonishing is that on the perfect golden skin of these "gold leaf girls," lines of delicate, elegant ink-colored characters faintly emerge. Upon closer inspection, they are verses written in Japanese kana and kanji, each with different words on each person's body, the handwriting ranging from graceful to vigorous. As they move slowly and form ranks to the music, the scattered verses seem to come alive, connecting and echoing each other.

“It’s the Diamond Sutra.” Angers’ gaze swept over the text as he spoke softly, a smile of appreciation on his face. “Using one’s own body as a monument to write Buddhist scriptures. It’s like a golden ‘forest of steles’.”

This is indeed a forest of steles. However, what bears the scriptures are not cold, hard stones, but the soft, vibrant, and fatally alluring bodies of young girls. Enchantment and Zen, desire and emptiness, are fused together here in an extreme and stunning way.

High up, beside the vermilion railing on the third floor, a figure appeared out of nowhere. He wore a dark blue silk kimono embroidered with subtle patterns, his posture upright, his hair a neat, clean mix of black and white, combed back meticulously. His face still hinted at his youthful handsomeness, with sharply angled eyebrows and a high, straight nose; only the deep lines of time added to his imposing presence. He held a closed white paper fan in his hand, tapping it lightly against his left palm, his gaze fixed on Angers below.

The rhythm of the dance music suddenly changed, from melodious to lively and rhythmic. The golden dancers' movements also became more intense, dozens of pairs of slender, jade-like legs wrapped in golden light, kicking, crossing, and drawing graceful and powerful arcs in unison with the rhythm, the glittering gold dust drifting in the air, carrying a warm and ambiguous sweet fragrance.

Angers remained composed, as if strolling through his own garden, moving unhurriedly along the path automatically parted by the dancers as they traversed the golden array. Golden limbs rose and fell beside him like wind blowing through golden rice paddies, and he was the sole wanderer.

His gaze swept across the second floor. That was where the band was located. Unlike the dancers' "golden splendor," the girls in the band all wore simple, elegant traditional kimonos in pale colors, but with extremely low necklines, revealing large expanses of fair, smooth skin and delicate collarbones. Some held shamisen, some played shakuhachi, and some played koto, their expressions focused and their skills adept. Compared to the golden-clad girls dancing passionately downstairs, they were like two extremes: movement and stillness, passion and tranquility.

No wonder Yoshitaka Hasegawa had such strong confidence in the girls here. At a glance, beauties abound, each with their own unique charm, some as alluring as fire, others as serene as the moon, together creating an extravagant visual feast—all for the sake of welcoming just one guest. Tokyo may have more expensive nightclubs, but none can boast such a large-scale, high-quality, and uniquely designed "army of beautiful girls."

And this is precisely the strength that the Inuyama family has cultivated for hundreds of years, a strength that no one can match—they are the uncrowned emperors of Japan's sex industry.

As the music ended, its lingering notes echoed. All the dancers and musicians, whether on the dance floor on the first floor or on the stage on the second, simultaneously stopped moving, faced the direction of Angers, and bowed deeply in unison. Their clear, sweet voices merged into a moving wave of sound.

"Good morning, Principal!"

Almost simultaneously, several colorful balls hanging high above burst open with a bang. Instead of confetti, they released countless fresh and delicate rose and cherry blossom petals, mixed with pale gold glitter, raining down from the sky like a luxurious and romantic shower of flowers. The petals covered the glistening ground, the vermilion staircase, and even landed on Angers' shoulders and silver hair.

Angers raised his hand, gently brushed a petal off his shoulder, and looked up at the third floor.

There, the elderly man in the dark blue kimono—Inuyama He—had left the railing and was slowly descending the stairs. His steps were steady, his back straight, and his face carried a complex expression—the excitement of a long-awaited reunion, deep emotion, and perhaps a hint of barely perceptible tension.

The two met on the spacious platform on the third floor.

“Principal,” Inuyama He spoke first, his voice more steady than on the phone, with a hint of hoarseness from years of experience, “It’s been… sixty-two years since we last met, hasn’t it?” He bowed slightly, the most solemn greeting a student would give to their teacher in the old days.

Angers stood still, accepted his bow, and then smiled, his tone light as if teasing an old friend: "All the way here I was wondering if you'd greet this old man with a hail of bullets. Now it seems, it's 'human bombs'." He deliberately used a Japanese term for a beautiful woman's advances.

Inuyama Heya laughed, a smile that softened some of the sternness on his face, revealing a hint of his former self. "I just wanted to ask the principal to see what 'treasures' I've collected over the years." He turned to the side, gesturing for display, his gaze sweeping over the girls below who were gradually rising and standing at their sides, his tone filled with undisguised pride, "You know, women are my most precious and proudest collection in this life."