Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

"I'll go and give the Metropolitan Police Department officials a proper welcome later. I'll just go through the motions with them; nothing will happen. Anyway, this war is nearing its end. Only the King and the Dragon King are still on the run. We've destroyed the Paradise Palace, its last stronghold. Spiders without a foundation won't last long. The only thing that makes me a little uneasy is God. We interrogated the captured demons all night, but we didn't get any valuable clues about God's whereabouts or condition. Not a single bit."

“I will continue to pursue the King and the Dragon King with all my might. Perhaps, information about the gods is only in their hands.” Genji was silent for a moment.

Then, he abruptly changed the subject and asked, "Has there been any news from Caesar's group yet?"

Lu Mingfei, who was hiding behind a pile of boxes and pretending to sort out the envelopes, immediately perked up his ears.

Tachibana Masamune shook his head slightly, a look of confusion on his face: "Absolutely not. This is indeed a bit unbelievable. They don't understand Japanese, and they have no roots or foothold in Japan. Logically speaking, they should have been discovered by us or the police long ago, since they were just wandering around like headless flies. But they seem to have vanished into thin air on the border between Tokyo and Saitama Prefecture. Not only can we not find them, but we have also lost contact with them at Kassel College."

He stroked the string of prayer beads in his hand and pondered, "Perhaps there really is a third party protecting them in the dark. But in Japan, what kind of third party would dare to risk offending both the Snake Clan and Kassel College at the same time to protect these hot potatoes? I don't understand."

Genjiro didn't respond immediately; he was also pondering the mystery.

"How should we handle the Inuyama family's matter?" He changed the subject, his tone revealing little emotion.

“They’re determined to leave the family, and we can’t stop them,” Tachibana Masamune sighed.

"Haven't heard anything from the principal these past few days?" Yuan Zhisheng asked again.

Mentioning Angers, Tachibana Masamune's relaxed expression vanished completely, and he slowly shook his head. "He has also completely disappeared from this city. But that's not difficult for him. He's very familiar with Japan, and he probably still has some old friends from back then helping him in secret. We dare not send anyone to try to track him. No matter who it is, they shouldn't even think about tracking a hybrid whose Word of Power is Time Zero. That would be tantamount to suicide."

The two were speaking in low voices, and with the various noises from the moving in the hall, Lu Mingfei could only catch some keywords intermittently: "God", "King", "Dragon King", "Inuyama family", "Principal", "Time Zero".

The information was fragmented, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, making it difficult to piece together a complete picture. But the biggest takeaway was confirmation that Principal Angers had arrived in Tokyo and was secretly making moves!

This was undoubtedly a shot in the arm for them.

Genjiro and Tachibana Masamune walked slowly forward while talking in hushed tones, just passing by Lu Mingfei, who was carrying a box and jogging with his head down.

Lu Mingfei kept his head down and quickened his pace, not daring to stop for even a moment.

Just as he passed by, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Chu Zihang holding up two fingers towards the freight elevator, quickly making a gesture. It was the agreed-upon signal, indicating that Chu Zihang himself was about to depart for the second batch, and that Lu Mingfei should prepare while keeping a low profile.

Immediately afterwards, the doors of the freight elevator, laden with boxes of documents and escorted by Chu Zihang, slowly closed after he entered, shutting him out. The elevator's upward indicator light then illuminated.

The evacuation plan is proceeding as scheduled! Caesar has successfully escaped, and Chu Zihang is close behind. Now, only Lu Mingfei and Frilian remain, waiting to become the fiftieth in the next batch.

Lu Mingfei felt a little calmer, and the will to survive overcame his fear. He worked even harder, carrying boxes and jogging between the bookshelves and the moving team, trying his best to play the role of an "anxious, busy, and fearful low-level executive member." Sweat streamed down his temples, but he didn't dare wipe it away, only occasionally brushing it off with his shoulder.

He had to carefully calculate to ensure that he and Frilian would be the last two people to fill the next elevator.

Chapter 650 Shinto

The elevator doors closed silently behind Chu Zihang, shutting out the dusty, sweaty, and bustling atmosphere of the lobby. Silence fell over the elevator car, broken only by the hissing sound of the steel cables rubbing against the guide rails as it ascended.

The silence lasted less than two seconds.

The instant the doors closed completely, the LCD screen directly in front of Chu Zihang, which should have displayed the floor numbers, went dark without warning, like a closed eye. At the same time, all the buttons representing different floors on the entire elevator control panel, whether numbers or letters, dimmed.

Immediately afterwards, above the screen that had originally displayed the floor number, another dark red indicator light, hidden behind the panel and never lit before, dimly illuminated, revealing two ancient Japanese kanji characters with a sense of religious solemnity—

"Shinto".

"Shinto"?

According to Sakurai Nanami's instructions and the handling procedures, these file boxes should have been sent to a regular warehouse or archive room in the inner district. Neither the information obtained as a temporary mover nor the limited prior knowledge of Genji Heavy Industries' structure pointed to a place called Shinto.

The concept of "Shinto" should not exist inside a modern skyscraper.

The word itself carries a strong sense of death and mystery from ancient times.

In ancient China, "the way of the gods" and "the way of the ghosts" were almost synonymous, specifically referring to the road leading to the tomb.

The Book of the Later Han Dynasty records: "A path was opened in front of the tomb, and stone pillars were erected as markers, which was called the spirit path."

Once you step onto the spirit path, it means you have entered the underworld and are walking at the boundary between Yin and Yang. The stone figures and beasts standing on both sides of the spirit path are the underworld attendants of the deceased. At the end of the spirit path, there is often a vermilion "Heavenly Gate" or "Lingxing Gate" that symbolizes the separation between life and death, leading to the "Yin Palace" where the coffin is placed and sacrifices are performed.

From the perspective of Japanese culture, "Shinto" is the name of Shintoism, Japan's state religion. However, the "eight million gods" worshipped by Shintoism are not all benevolent beings; many of them exist in a realm between god and demon, good and evil, filled with primal chaos and wildness. Shrines are not only sacred places of worship, but sometimes also places where certain things are sealed away.

Chu Zihang raised his hand and pulled the brim of the black hat he wore to conceal his face down even further, almost completely obscuring his sharp eyes. His hand, which was tucked into his trench coat pocket, quietly gripped the cold hilt of Murasame's knife, his thumb gently pressing against the handguard.

The elevator continued to ascend at a steady speed, yet it didn't give you the slight feeling of weightlessness that you usually experience when an elevator is running. It felt as if you were traveling in a straight tunnel leading into the unknown depths.

I don't know how much time passed, maybe only a few tens of seconds, maybe several minutes, but with a soft "ding," the elevator stopped.

The door slid open to both sides.

An intensely warm aroma, so rich it was almost overwhelming, surged in, nearly suffocating the senses. Along with the fragrance came an overwhelming darkness.

In the darkness, only a faintly lit passage stretched forward. Every few steps along the ground on either side of the passage, a small candle, contained in a red earthenware cup, was placed. The candlelight flickered, dim and yellowish, barely illuminating the area around the rim of the cup, making the darkness further away appear even thicker and more unfathomable. Occasionally, the candlelight danced, casting distorted and swaying shadows on the rough stone walls of the passage, like silent, dancing phantoms.

Chu Zihang stepped out of the elevator. The slightly uneven texture under his feet wasn't smooth tiles or carpet, but more like unpolished stone slabs. He was surprised to find himself in a completely antique shrine or temple space that clashed with the modern style of Genji Heavy Industries.

The dimly lit passage led past a tall, dark red torii gate. The torii's wooden pillars were thick, their vermilion lacquer long since peeled away, revealing the original dark red, almost black wood beneath, giving it an even more ancient and weathered appearance. This was a genuine historical artifact, originally meant to stand at the entrance of a shrine, enduring wind, sun, and rain.

At this moment, however, it was completely dismantled, transported, and then rebuilt exactly as it was deep inside this skyscraper, becoming the entrance sign for this eerie space.

silence.

A deathly silence.

Not only were there no human voices, but even the sounds of electrical appliances commonly found in modern buildings had completely disappeared. Only the occasional faint crackling of the candlelight and the extremely faint sounds of one's own breathing and heartbeat remained.

Chu Zihang subtly adjusted the position of his longsword inside his trench coat, ensuring he could draw it as quickly as possible. His golden eyes silently lit up in the darkness, like two clusters of cold golden flames, and he began to slowly move forward, stepping into the narrow passage illuminated by candlelight.

The passage wasn't long, and we soon reached its end. A sudden opening appeared before us, only to be filled with even deeper darkness and layers upon layers of obstacles.

In the darkness stood many tall shadows—wooden statues of deities. They varied in posture: some glared angrily, wielding vajras; others had three heads and six arms, their faces contorted like demons; still others had lowered brows and solemn expressions. The paint on the statues had peeled away, revealing the wood grain, which appeared even more ancient and sinister in the dim light. Each statue was bound by thick ropes woven from white paper, these ropes crisscrossing like a spiderweb, binding the statues layer by layer.

Chu Zihang knew that in Shintoism, this kind of paper-woven rope was called "shimenawa" or "bancho." It had the dual meaning of sacredness and sealing. The "deities" enshrined in shrines were all kinds of strange and not all benevolent gods; some even possessed strong demonic or dangerous qualities.

The priests used this specially made shimenawa (sacred rope) to wrap around the statues of gods, signifying their sacredness and inviolability, and also implying that their power was restrained and sealed to prevent them from causing trouble in the human world.

The light from the candlesticks was too dim to illuminate the heads of the statues, which seemed to bow their heads, silently and coldly gazing down from the endless darkness at this tiny intruder who had entered the forbidden land. An invisible, heavy sense of gaze and oppressive force permeated the air.

Around the statue, various ancient sacrificial objects are scattered haphazardly: the wooden palanquins are empty, or they hold small, unidentified shrines. Thick purple hemp ropes, as thick as arms, are wrapped around the beams and objects, like giant pythons coiled around them, guarding this mysterious realm.

If the eerie elevator is indeed the sacred path, then Chu Zihang has already traversed it, passed through the torii gate symbolizing the divine realm, and entered the Yin Temple area for rituals. According to traditional layout, the area ahead should be the core area where the divine body or coffin is placed.

Without the slightest hesitation, Chu Zihang maintained the highest level of vigilance as he passed through layer after layer of thin, hanging black gauze curtains. The curtains brushed against his shoulders and cheeks, carrying a cool, slippery touch, like the caress of the dead.

Finally, after passing through countless layers of gauze, a steady light appeared ahead, different from the flickering candlelight. It was an ancient-style ever-burning lamp, filled with clear lamp oil, its wick burning quietly, emitting a warm yet lonely orange-yellow glow.

The ever-burning lamp illuminated the view directly in front of it.

A huge screen wall.

Chapter 651 The Dead Executive Bureau Personnel

A screen wall, also known as a spirit wall or a courtyard wall, is typically built inside or outside the main gate of a residence to block the view and prevent outsiders from seeing directly into the inner courtyard. In Feng Shui, it is also believed to gather positive energy and ward off negative influences. Screen walls are not uncommon, but this one…

It's bigger than you can imagine!

Its height is estimated to be close to four meters, almost reaching the ceiling of this floor; its width is even more astonishing, exceeding ten meters, like a giant wall stretching across the end of the space. The top of the screen wall is decorated with intricate gilded patterns, shimmering with a dark and luxurious luster under the illumination of the ever-burning lamp.

However, what is most awe-inspiring is not the size, but the murals on the screen wall.

With astonishing boldness and skill, the artist used two extremely intense colors—rust-like dark red and deep-sea indigo—to create a monumental painting that is truly awe-inspiring.

In the center of the image are several pairs of half-human, half-serpent giants. Their upper bodies are human; the males are muscular, with imposing and ferocious faces, full of power and rage. The females are voluptuous, with dignified and gentle faces, radiating maternal glow and sorrow. Their lower bodies, however, are thick, winding serpent tails. These giants' serpent tails are tightly intertwined and embraced, forming a complex, tense, and inextricably linked knot.

Countless demons from Japanese mythology—blue-faced, fanged monsters, flame-breathing fox spirits, scaly sea monsters, and mountain children with only one eye and one leg—surrounded the giants in the center like a tide, emitting silent roars and howls.

Behind the giants, countless arms sprouted, like a thousand-armed Guanyin, or like blooming terrifying flowers. Each arm was muscular and full of power, wielding all sorts of weapons—sharp katanas, heavy naginatas, eerie magatama, burning talismans… They wielded these weapons, engaging in a brutal and extremely fierce battle with the surrounding demons.

The entire mural is filled with overwhelming rage, violence, death, and allure. These extreme emotions and images are incredibly fused together in the artist's hands.

The sorrow is so heavy, so vast, carrying the suffering, struggles and inescapable fate of countless centuries, that it makes the viewer tremble involuntarily and almost burst into tears.

However, beneath this mural, a masterpiece of art and religious symbolism, lies an even more chilling and unsettling sight—

The blood was dripping and still wet.

Thick, dark red blood slowly crawled and writhed down the rough surface of the screen wall. The numerous streams of blood crisscrossed, as if someone had wantonly splashed and poured bucket after bucket of red paint onto the mural! Some of the blood had already reached the ground, pooling into small, viscous, dark patches.

Chu Zihang had experienced countless dangerous battles, witnessed the bloodiest killing scenes, and even personally slain vicious assassins. But no scene could evoke as much bloodshed and dread as the massive, blood-soaked screen before him.

An adult's blood volume is only about five liters. No matter how severe the injury, the amount of bleeding is ultimately limited, and after death, when the heart stops beating, the blood will quickly clot.

The amount of blood on the screen wall was enough to repaint the entire massive wall! How much blood would that require? And what kind of cruel, efficient, and highly targeted methods would be needed to make the arterial blood in the victims gush out like a fountain in the brief moments before their hearts stopped beating, splashing onto this four-meter-high screen wall?!

"Clap."

With a soft sound, Chu Zihang raised his hand and decisively removed the black contact lenses covering his golden eyes. In an instant, his molten gold-like eyes suddenly lit up in the dim light, like a cold torch burning in the darkness, filled with absolute rationality and burning fighting spirit.

Concealing one's identity is pointless now. The blood is still flowing, meaning the massacre has only recently ended. The killer is very likely still in this space.

Right now, staying alive is the only thing that matters.

The domain of the Word of Power: Lord's Flame silently began to expand from his center. The surrounding air temperature rose slightly, and the light became slightly distorted. The "Muramasame" longsword in his hand, enhanced by the high-temperature domain, began to glow with a blazing light between dark red and pitch black, like a branding iron that had just been taken out of the furnace and had not yet completely cooled.

The last porter brought here by the elevator must have been Caesar.

Caesar was certainly not a madman, much less a ruthless massacre of the Executive Bureau's elite. Chu Zihang now only hoped that Caesar hadn't become one of those corpses strewn across the ground.

He took a deep breath, gripped the blazing longsword tightly, turned sideways, and moved with the agility of a cat, carefully skirting around the blood-stained giant screen wall.

Following the order of the Shinto path, torii gate, sacrificial space, and screen wall, he now officially stepped into the most central and hidden part of this Yin Palace area. Theoretically, it should be a place for enshrining deities or coffins.

The faint light emanating from the longsword barely illuminated his profile and his strikingly bright golden eyes in the darkness. The moment he rounded the screen wall, the suffocatingly strong stench of blood, previously masked by the rich aroma of spices, crashed down upon him like a tangible wave!

A slippery, sticky sensation came from beneath his feet. Chu Zihang looked down and saw a thin layer of dark red liquid, still slowly flowing, covering the floor. Stepping on it felt slightly sluggish. Undoubtedly, this was blood that hadn't fully congealed. If the lights were on, this floor would likely appear a shocking, uniform dark red.

Dozens of corpses lay scattered on the floor.

They were all dressed in matching black executive bureau trench coats; they were the elite officers who had been busily moving things in the archives on the 21st floor. Now, like harvested straw, they lay dead in pools of blood, surrounded by mountains of file boxes.

The fatal wounds on each person were strikingly similar and horrific: huge, exaggerated lacerations running diagonally downwards from the shoulder, almost splitting half the body in two and piercing straight to the heart area. The muscles at the edges of the wounds were torn and twisted, revealing the bone beneath.

The left and right pulmonary arteries were completely severed. These are the body's most important arteries, through which almost all the body's arterial blood is pumped from the heart. Such an injury would cause most of the victim's blood to be ejected like a high-pressure water jet during the heart's last and most powerful beat, forming the horrifying waterfall of blood on the screen.

Chu Zihang quickly scanned the entire area, confirming that there were no survivors or lurking enemies. He sheathed his sword, knelt down on one knee beside a corpse with the most representative wounds, and extended his gloved hand to carefully examine the shape of the wounds, trying to determine the murder weapon.

But he failed.

The wound was so large and irregular that its destructive power exceeded that of conventional cold weapons. If a comparison had to be made, it was like being struck by a giant fire axe magnified several times, with serrated edges, or a chainsaw-like but much larger weapon, with incredibly violent force.

The blade length may exceed three feet, and the weapon's weight is estimated to be no less than thirty kilograms. Wielding such a weapon requires superhuman strength, as well as the speed to "slaughter dozens of armed elites within ten seconds, with none able to draw their weapons in resistance."

Unless it's a giant from mythology, or a berserker warrior from World of Warcraft wielding an epic weapon.

Just as Chu Zihang was deep in thought, a deep, familiar voice rang out from the shadows on the other side of the corpse he was examining: "What kind of injury is this? Penetrating? Tear? Or an explosion?"

The voice paused, as if the owner was pinching his nose to block out the strong smell of blood, "Or could we call it 'being passionately bitten by a prehistoric dragon monster with a mouth over a meter wide'?"