Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

When Frilian appeared carrying Yuriko, it caused a small commotion.

"Yuriko-neechan!" Koharu leaned out of the car window.

Akemi got off the bus and helped Frilian settle Yuriko in the last row of a bus, where she could lie down.

Qinglan was directing the evacuation. He counted the number of people, checked the list, and made sure no one was missed.

“All 27 maids are here,” he said to Frilian. “There are 16 waiters, 9 cooks, and 12 non-combat personnel on guard. That’s a total of 64 people, all here.”

He looked at the last bus: "That one is for you. The driver is Yamamoto, you know him. He'll take you to the safe house in Yokohama, where someone will meet you."

“Yamamoto?” Frillie thought of the middle-aged waiter who worked in the bar area.

Qinglan nodded: "He's one of ours, and he's been in charge of liaison work at the safe house."

Frillie understood. Yamamoto said he was working here to find his missing daughter, but that was probably just an excuse. He was actually a liaison officer planted in Elysium by the Oni Clan.

"Aren't you leaving?" she asked Qinglan.

"I'm staying to keep Miss company," Qinglan said calmly, as if discussing what to eat that day. "Besides, someone has to cover the rear."

He glanced at his watch: "Forty minutes to go. Let's get in the car."

Frillie boarded the last bus. Aside from the driver, Yamamoto, she was the only passenger. This bus was reserved for the higher-ups at Gokurakukan, but Sakurai Kogure, Mrs. Matsumoto, and Aoran weren't leaving; the other buses ahead were already full.

"Fasten your seatbelt," Yamamoto glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "The road might be a bit bumpy."

The buses ahead began to drive out of the parking lot one after another, leaving the Paradise Pavilion through a hidden passage.

Frillie's bus was at the back of the line.

Just as they were about to leave, a white figure appeared at the parking lot entrance.

Sakurai Kogure.

She changed into a pure white kendo uniform, her long hair tied in a high ponytail, and held an ancient-looking katana in her hand. She was without makeup, but at that moment she was more beautiful than ever, like a samurai about to face her death.

Chapter 575 Sakurai Kogure: It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Frillian.

Kogure Sakurai walked to the bus and knocked on Frillie's window.

Frillie rolled down the car window.

“Chiba, no, Miss Frillian,” Kogure Sakurai smiled. “It was a pleasure to meet you, even though it was a short time.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Frillie said. “Let’s go together.”

Sakurai Kogure shook her head: "I can't leave. I built the Paradise Mansion, and I want to watch it be destroyed. Besides, Lady Chizuru said that she would protect this place until the very end."

She took a small cloth bag from her bosom and handed it to Frilian.

"This contains intelligence I've collected over the years: political scandals, zaibatsu secrets, and records of factional struggles within the Snake Clan. It should be useful to you."

Frillie took it; the cloth bag was light, but the contents inside might be as heavy as Mount Tai.

"And this too." Sakurai Kogure handed over another ring, made of silver, with a simple design and cherry blossom patterns engraved on it. "If, if you ever see Lady Chizuru again, give this to her. Tell her that Kogure doesn't regret it."

Frillie gripped the ring tightly: "I will."

Sakurai Kogure took a step back and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Ms. Frillian. Thank you for being willing to save a demon like me."

Then she turned and walked deeper into the parking lot.

Qinglan followed behind her like a loyal shadow.

The bus started moving and headed towards the exit.

Frillie watched the two figures grow smaller and smaller through the back window.

Sakurai Kogure in white, Aoyama in black. Like a traditional Chinese ink painting, about to be engulfed by the flames of war.

The bus exited the underground passage and came to a small road behind the Elysium Palace. From here, you can overlook the entire Elysium Palace complex.

Frillie asked Yamamoto to stop the car.

“Wait,” she said. “I want to see.”

Yamamoto didn't ask why, he just turned off the engine.

Frillie got out of the car and stood on the hillside.

From here, the Paradise House appears brightly lit, like a lighthouse at sea. But upon closer inspection, one can see that the area around the building is filled with dark shadows—the troops of the Snake Clan.

They were dressed in uniform black combat suits, wearing gas masks, and carrying automatic weapons. There were at least two hundred of them, divided into several groups, establishing an encirclement. Further away, several armored vehicles were visible, with heavy machine guns mounted on their roofs.

This is a professional military operation, not an ordinary gang shootout.

The Snake Clan is getting serious. They intend to wipe the Paradise Mansion off the map completely, along with all its secrets and everyone within.

Frillie's magical perception was pushed to its limit.

She could "see" inside the Paradise Mansion. Sakurai Kogure and Aoran had returned to the main building, along with about thirty other members of the Demon Clan, who were setting up defenses. They were setting up roadblocks in the corridors and planting explosives in key locations, preparing for street fighting.

But the numbers were too disparate. Thirty against two hundred, and the enemy had heavy weapons.

This was a battle destined to fail.

Does Sakurai Kogure know this?

She knew that, of course, but she still chose to stay.

For the Paradise Pavilion? For the Demon Clan? Or for the entrustment left by the man she had waited for all these years?

Frillie didn't know.

All she knew was that there was nothing she could do right now.

She could rush back and use magic to help, perhaps holding out a little longer. But she couldn't. There were still over sixty ordinary people on the bus who needed escorting, information that Sakurai Kogure had given her needed to be relayed, and Lu Mingfei and the other two needed her.

Sometimes, it takes more courage to live than to die.

"It's time to go, Miss Frillie," Yamamoto said in the car. "The vanguard of the Snake Clan has already begun its movement."

Frillie took one last look at Elysium.

Under the lights, the white building looked like a dream, a dream about to awaken in blood and fire.

Frillie turned and got into the car.

The bus started and drove into the night.

Behind her, the lights of the Paradise Mansion began to go out one by one. Sakurai Kogure was turning off unnecessary lighting, preparing for the final battle.

...

The flames licked at the vermilion window frames, and the wood crackled and popped under the intense heat, like an ancient instrument playing its final lament.

Sakurai Kogure sat before the mirror, its surface veiled with a thin layer of dust, making her reflection appear hazy, like looking at flowers through a mist. She didn't wipe it clean; in fact, she thought it was fine this way. A blurred reflection, a blurred past, a blurred ending.

She put on the twelve-layered kimono she had treasured for many years.

This is the most formal dress at Gokurakukan, composed of twelve layers of silk in different colors. From the innermost pure white short sleeves to the outermost deep purple Tang robe, the colors gradually deepen, like the transition from dawn to dusk. Each layer is embroidered with intricate cherry blossom patterns along its edges.

Wearing this kimono requires the assistance of at least two maids and takes an hour, but she is alone now, and her movements are slow.

“The inner layer is pure white, symbolizing new life,” Sakurai Kogure murmured to herself, tying the sash of the first layer. “Then it’s light pink, the shyness of a young girl.”

The third layer is light cherry blossom, the fourth layer is pale red, and the fifth layer is crimson.

She put on the clothes one layer at a time, and with each layer she tied, she recited its corresponding meaning in her heart. This was taught to her by someone who was like a mother to her.

The woman from an old-fashioned family in Kyoto said to Sakurai Kogure, when she was thirteen years old and before she passed away, "Kogure, these twelve layers of clothing represent a woman's life. From pure white to deep purple, from ignorance to clarity. You must remember, no matter which layer you wear, never forget that initial white."

Sakurai Kogure didn't understand then. Now she understands, but it's too late.

The eleventh floor is dark red, symbolizing her prime years, which also represent the years she spent in charge of the Paradise Palace. Power, wealth, desire, and sin have all settled in this dark red.

The final layer was a deep purple Tang-style robe. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked it up. Deep purple, in tradition, symbolizes clarity and enlightenment, but also death.

"It's time to wake up," Sakurai Kogure said to her reflection in the mirror.

After putting on her twelve layers of clothing, she walked to her dressing table and opened a sandalwood box. Inside were her most precious jewelry, mostly gifts from guests: a diamond necklace, a jade hairpin, and ruby ​​earrings. But she didn't take any of them, only a peach blossom hairpin.

The wooden hairpin was crudely made, with the petals carved somewhat distorted. Many years ago, Genji had casually broken off a peach branch in the mountains and carved it with a dagger. That day, he smiled and said, "Kogure, when I have my own land in the future, I'll plant peach trees all over it, so you can wear fresh flowers every day."

Later, he acquired land, but forgot to plant peach trees and also forgot the person who sent him the flowers.

Sakurai Kogure inserted a hairpin diagonally into her tied-up hair. The long, jet-black hair and the rough wooden hairpin seemed out of place against the backdrop of the luxurious kimono, yet they created a harmonious effect.

She stood up, the hem of her twelve-layered blouse trailing on the ground like a spreading sunset.

She walked up to the mirror, bowed slightly, and said to her reflection, "Welcome."

She had said these words countless times to countless guests, until they had become a mechanical repetition. But at this moment, as she uttered those four words for the last time, she felt a long-lost, almost sacred peace.

Just like an actor taking their final bow, finally able to shed all pretense and be themselves again.

Chapter 576 The Destruction of the Paradise Pavilion

The destruction of the Paradise Palace began fifteen minutes ago.

The Snake Clan did not choose to launch a direct attack, even though they had the capability. Instead, they deployed twelve oil tankers and parked them on the hillside surrounding the Paradise Pavilion. Dozens of tons of fuel poured down like a black waterfall, flowing down the mountainside, submerging the courtyard, overflowing the steps, and flooding all the way to the building's foundation.

The man in charge of the attack sat on a protruding rock on the mountaintop, smoking and quietly watching the fleeing crowd below.

The wind was strong, blowing up the hem of his long overcoat and scattering the embers of his cigarette. He didn't light it, just smoked, as if waiting for something.

Through the smoke-filled window, Sakurai Kogure could see that figure.

Even from this distance, she could recognize him: Genjiro. The head of the Sheki-Hachika family's executive bureau, Genjiro's brother, and the one who ordered the destruction of the Paradise Mansion.

They met a few times, on occasions where they had to attend together. Genji was always silent, his eyes as cold as ice, but Sakurai Kogure could sense that beneath that coldness lay something heavy, something that was about to crush him.

Is it responsibility? Is it regret? Or is it unspeakable pain for a younger brother who has gone astray?

Sakurai Kogure didn't know. All she knew was that Genjiro, sitting atop the mountain, was waiting for the ending, just like her.

Below, the collapse of the Elysium is unfolding.

Gamblers poured out of all the exits, dressed in glamorous gowns and high heels, slipping on the fuel, getting up and continuing to run. Luxury cars blocked the only bridge, horns blaring, but no one would make way. Dealers, waiters, cooks—everyone was fleeing, even the usually fiercest security guards.

There was still 1.2 billion yen in cash in the vault, which was the severance pay that Sakurai Kogure left for her employees. She threw the keys to the lobby manager, but the young man, clutching the keys, looked at the fuel spilled all over the floor and the frantically fleeing crowd, and finally threw down the keys and joined the escape.

Human nature is always so naked in the face of the end of the world.