Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

A black Hummer sped along the mountain road, screeching to a halt behind Genji. The door opened, and Crow jumped out, carrying a silenced pistol in one hand and a folder in the other. His thin-rimmed glasses gleamed in the firelight, giving him a rather "wolf in sheep's clothing" look.

"Boss, this administrative work is so annoying!" Crow complained as he walked. "Can't I just do some fighting and killing like Yaksha? Checking lists, inspecting documents, filling out forms. This job is more tiring than killing people!"

He walked behind Yuan Zhisheng and opened the folder: "We've caught seventeen, but we're still missing three."

The Enforcement Bureau set up a tight checkpoint at the exit from the mountain, and all vehicles escaping from the Paradise Mansion were subject to inspection. Unauthorized personnel were politely allowed to pass, but those on the list of demons were hooded and stuffed into a cargo truck. The Snake Clan would never allow those dangerous hybrids to roam freely.

Yuan Zhisheng took the list and glanced at it by the firelight.

There are twenty names on the list, seventeen of which are checked. The three that are not checked are:

King: Unknown

Dragon King: Unknown

Ryoma: Sakurai Kogure

The high-ranking members of the Demon Clan use shogi pieces as code names. Tachibana Masamune investigated for ten years, but the identities of the King and the Dragon King remain a mystery. Many gangs loyal to the Demon Clan have never even seen these two supreme leaders.

While Ryoma and Sakurai Kogure are ostensibly just the female manager of Gokurakukan, they hold extremely high positions within the Oni Clan. She is the only known high-ranking member.

If there is a dragon horse, then naturally there should be a king general and a dragon king above it.

But do they even exist? Have they already escaped in the chaos?

"Could they have escaped to the mountains?" Sakura suggested, "Or perhaps there's an underground passage in the Paradise Mansion that we don't know about."

Genji did not answer immediately.

He closed his eyes, letting the night wind, carrying the smell of burning, brush against his cheeks. Amidst the howling mountain wind, the crackling of wood, and the cacophony of burning fuel, he caught a faint yet clear glimpse of singing.

It was a woman's voice, charming and melodious.

The song appears to be in a Kabuki style, but the lyrics...

Yuan Zhisheng listened attentively.

The song came from the depths of the burning ruins, appearing and disappearing amidst the roar of flames, like a lingering ghost.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

Crow and Cherry were taken aback, then held their breath and focused.

Sure enough, amidst the noisy background, there was singing. Crow's Chinese was limited to everyday conversations like "Hello" and "Have you eaten?", while Sakura's was slightly better but still limited, and the lyrics were full of archaic language, not modern colloquialisms.

“Weary, weary, the hairpin is my witness, a gift from the Emperor in the past.” Yuan Zhisheng slowly recited the lyrics, “Don’t remember the romance, just repay him for the favor he once received; return the hairpin to Linqiong, three thousand weak waters to the east, the clouds and rosy clouds are red again; the moon’s shadow has long since melted away, the road ahead is full of obstacles; the way back is lost, looking back it’s all empty.”

He opened his eyes and looked at the Elysium Palace, which was engulfed in flames.

“This is Bando Tamasaburo singing ‘Yang Guifei.’ I’ve heard him perform it live,” Genji said. “A person singing this kind of song in a building that’s about to collapse must be thinking about someone. Maybe I can find out something from him.”

"Boss!" Crow's face changed. "That building could collapse at any moment! If anything happens to you, Yaksha and I will have to commit seppuku to atone for our sins!"

Yuan Zhisheng stood up and patted the dust off his trench coat.

"Moreover," a faint smile appeared on his lips, "someone who can sing so beautifully is worth meeting."

He drew the Spider Cutter from his waist. "You stay here and guard all the exits. If the building collapses, don't wait for me."

"Young Master!" Sakura stepped forward, but was stopped by Genjiro's raised hand.

“This is an order,” Genji said, then drew his sword and walked toward the burning Paradise House.

His silhouette stretched long in the firelight, the hem of his long black overcoat billowing in the hot wind.

Crow and Cherry exchanged a glance, both seeing the helplessness in each other's eyes.

"Damn it," Crow cursed under his breath, "With the boss's temper, he'll get himself killed sooner or later, and we'll all get killed too."

But he quickly turned on his walkie-talkie: "Attention everyone, the young master has entered the building. Strengthen security at all exits, don't let a single rat out!"

Chapter 578 Beauty Fades Quickly

Genji stepped through the gates of the Paradise House.

The once magnificent foyer is now a living hell. Crystal chandeliers lie smashed on the floor, their shards scattered everywhere. Murals are blackened with soot, silk curtains have become ignition sources, and thick smoke and a sweet, acrid smell permeate the air—probably the stench of burning precious woods and spices.

He walked up the main staircase.

The wooden staircase, warped by the intense heat, groaned ominously with every step. The handrail, burned through, hung from the third floor like the severed limbs of a giant beast. The walls, once adorned with photographs showcasing the Elysium's splendor—inscriptions by dignitaries, photos of celebrities, and lavish banquets—were now twisted charcoal.

Yuan Zhisheng walked very slowly, not out of fear, but because he was listening.

The singing continued, coming from upstairs, clearer than it could be heard outside. The voice was alluring yet tinged with sorrow, as if telling a sad story that would never end.

"Three thousand weak waters flow eastward, the clouds and rosy hues are red again; the moon's shadow has long since vanished."

The lyrics are in Chinese, but sung in a Japanese accent, giving it a unique charm.

Genjiro recalled a night many years ago when he saw Bando Tamasaburo perform at the Tokyo National Theatre. The legendary Kabuki master, dressed as Yang Guifei, sang a selection from "The Palace of Eternal Life" on stage. At that time, Genjiro was young and didn't understand love or eternity; he only felt that the song was so beautiful it was heartbreaking.

Now he understands.

Some things, like this song, are beautiful, but destined to fade away.

Like a paradise engulfed in flames.

Just like his younger brother whom he could never find again.

The second floor was almost completely burned. Genji walked through the corridor, stepping on charred debris from time to time—gambling equipment, wine glasses, or jewelry left behind by a customer. At a corner, he saw a corpse curled up against the wall, burned beyond recognition. Judging from the remaining fabric, it was probably a maid who hadn't had time to escape.

Yuan Zhisheng stopped and looked at the corpse.

A few seconds later, he continued walking.

It wasn't indifference, it was numbness. In this war, he had witnessed too much death, so much that he had almost forgotten what grief felt like.

The singing grew closer.

Yuan Zhisheng arrived at the stairwell on the third floor. The fire was slightly weaker here, but the smoke was thicker, and visibility was less than five meters. He covered his mouth and nose, squinted, and tried to determine his direction.

The singing came from the room at the end of the corridor.

This is the penthouse suite of Gokurakukan, said to be reserved for only the most distinguished guests. It is also Sakurai Kogure's private residence.

Genji gripped the Spider Cutter tightly and walked step by step toward the room.

The door to the room was ajar.

The flickering light from the crack in the door cast long and short shadows on the corridor walls, like the struggle of a dying creature. Genji stopped at the door, his hand resting on the hilt of his Spider Cutter, but he didn't push the door open immediately.

The singing flowed out from inside the door, becoming much clearer.

"The road ahead is fraught with difficulties, the way we came is lost, and looking back, all is in vain."

As the last syllable faded, its lingering resonance dissipated amidst the crackling of the flames, carrying a deliberately drawn-out, almost sighing tone. It wasn't an end, but rather a prelude to something else.

Genji took a deep breath of the scorching air and pushed open the door.

A wave of heat, mixed with a strange fragrance, hit us. The incense, with its sweet floral and fruity notes, became unusually strong under the high temperature, almost masking the scent of death.

Most of the room was engulfed in flames. The screen near the door was burning, its silk surface transforming into fluttering black butterflies. The precious tatami mats were charred and curled, revealing the carbonized skeleton beneath. A corner of the ceiling had collapsed, and broken beams hung down like the ribs of a giant beast.

Only the small area near the window miraculously remained relatively intact. A fireproof partition, which had been lowered at some unknown time, was probably the last function of the emergency safety system, temporarily blocking the flames and forming an island about three meters in diameter that had not yet been engulfed.

Sakurai Kogure sat in the center of the isolated island.

She stood with her back to the door, facing the burning courtyard outside the window. Twelve magnificent robes spread out around her, twelve layers of color gradually changing from pure white to deep purple, shimmering with breathtaking beauty in the firelight.

Her hair was styled in the classic hairstyle of noblewomen in the Heian period, with long, black hair cascading down her back, and a wooden hairpin inserted diagonally in her hair.

Yuan Zhisheng's gaze lingered on the wooden hairpin for a moment.

The workmanship was rough, even clumsy. The petals were carved crookedly, and there were obvious carving marks on the branches, which formed a glaring contrast with her priceless twelve-layered kimono and her near-perfect demeanor at the moment.

It's like a gift from a clumsy person, full of sincerity but lacking skill.

Sakurai Kogure was unaware of Genji's arrival, simply gazing quietly out the window. In the courtyard, the carefully nurtured weeping cherry tree had become a burning fire tree, its branches twisting and breaking in the flames, and the petal-like ash falling from the trees swirling and rising in the hot wind like reversed black snowflakes.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sakurai Kogure suddenly spoke, her voice soft, as if whispering to the flames outside the window. “Sometimes the process of destruction is more fascinating than existence itself.”

She slowly turned around.

The firelight outlined her silhouette and then illuminated her face.

He was bare-faced. There was no elaborate makeup meant to please guests. His skin was flushed an unnatural red under the combined heat and firelight, and there were fine beads of sweat on his forehead. But his deep purple eyes—Yuan Zhisheng had never observed those eyes at such close range before—were astonishingly clear, reflecting the flickering flames, yet showing no sign of panic or fear.

Only a bottomless, weary calm.

"Welcome, Director Genjiro." She nodded slightly, her movements as elegant as if she were greeting a prince at the entrance during the heyday of the Paradise House. "Or should I address you as Young Master? I heard that Patriarch Tachibana Masamune has decided to pass the position to you."

Her tone was natural, with just the right amount of flattery, as if they were having a casual conversation in a private tea room, not in a burning, collapsing ruin.

Yuan Zhisheng didn't respond to her polite words. His gaze swept across the room, quickly assessing the environment. The fireproof partition was weakening and wouldn't last much longer. An ominous tremor and cracking sound came from the floor beneath his feet. There were no other signs of ambush.

"Are you all alone?" he asked, his voice hoarse from inhaling smoke.

“As you can see,” Sakurai Kogure raised her hands, showing her empty hands and the oversized twelve-layered sleeves of her tunic that couldn’t conceal any weapons. “I’ve sent Seiran to carry out her final orders. As for the other guards, they’ve scattered like monkeys when the tree falls, which is only natural. Now, all that’s left here is me and this fire.”

She paused, a very faint smile curving her lips: "Of course, and you too. You came alone? That's surprisingly brave. Or perhaps, it's because Patriarch Tachibana Masamune has absolute confidence in your abilities?"

“You’re waiting for someone,” Yuan Zhisheng said, ignoring the probing in her words and stating his judgment directly. He took two steps forward, stopping at the edge of the fireproof partition, the heat radiating through the invisible barrier and scorching his skin. “Waiting for someone who won’t come. That’s why you’re not running away.”

Sakurai Kogure's smile froze for a moment, like the first crack appearing on a perfect mask.

She lowered her eyelids, her long eyelashes casting a fan-shaped shadow beneath her eyes. When she looked up again, the deliberately cultivated composure faded, revealing the genuine weariness beneath.

“You are more perceptive and direct than rumored,” Sakurai Kogure said softly, taking a slender pipe from her wide sleeve, skillfully filling it with special tobacco, and flicking a spark with her fingertip to light it.

She took a deep breath, and pale blue smoke slowly escaped from her lips, swirling in the scorching air, temporarily dispelling the pungent smell and bringing a hint of bitter herbal aroma.

“Yes, I’m waiting for someone,” she admitted, her gaze passing over Genjiro and landing on the fire-filled corridor outside the door, as if she could see through the flames to a distant, now-vanished promise. “Waiting for someone who told me not long ago that he would come back.”

“Yuan Zhinü,” Yuan Zhisheng uttered the name.

The name was like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pool, creating silent ripples between the two.

Sakurai Kogure's fingers, holding the pipe, trembled almost imperceptibly, and ash fell in a flurry, burning several small, charred holes in the hem of her deep purple Tang-style robe. She looked down at them, but didn't brush them away; instead, she gently ran her fingertips along the damaged edges.

“You know so much,” her voice trailed off, almost a dreamlike whisper, “Then you should also know what he’s doing now. Once he takes the evolution drug, he can never come back, right?”

She raised her head, her deep purple eyes staring directly at Yuan Zhisheng. There was no questioning, no resentment in her eyes, only a pure, yearning for confirmation.

“The erosion of dragon blood is irreversible.” Genji paused for a moment before choosing the most objective, yet also the cruelest, statement: “Every evolution means that a part of humanity is stripped away and devoured. Those who undergo the final evolution, regardless of success or failure, are completely severing ties with their past selves.”

He paused, then added, "The Yuanzhi who made promises to you was gone the moment she drank the evolution potion."