Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Yuan Zhisheng's composure was tinged with a deep, lingering sorrow. He was like a demon burdened with a mountain of sins, approaching you and begging for your help. His soul had long been bent under the weight of that mountain of sins, and he was still struggling to hold on, but he didn't know where it would lead; he was just instinctively and stubbornly refusing to fall.

What belief made him so tired and endure such hardship?

Caesar did not know.

All he knew was that he had decided to take this risk.

It's not because I believe in Genjiro.

It was because of the hundreds of ordinary employees in this building who worked overtime until late at night, because of the girls screaming in terror on the 14th floor, and because of the innocent people he had never seen before, and would never see again, but whom he had to protect.

"Prioritize intercepting them in the elevator shaft."

Chu Zihang's voice pulled him back to reality.

"But with our ammunition, we can't take down that many Deadpools."

He looked at Caesar.

"How many mercury-core bombs do you have left?"

Caesar drew a new magazine from his waist and inserted it into the gun handle with swift and decisive movements.

"Only two magazines left, a total of fourteen rounds."

He paused.

"Even if all the bullets were fired at Deadpool, it would only take out five at most. Although these guys are mindless, their physical strength is no less than that of dragons. The cross-shaped split bullets are not as lethal to them as designed."

Chu Zihang glanced down at his Uzi submachine gun.

"The effect of tungsten alloy bullets is almost negligible. Unless I have an unlimited supply of ammunition."

He turned to Genjiro.

What about close combat?

His gaze fell on Genjiro's hand holding the Spider Cutter. That hand was very steady, as if it were welded to the hilt of the sword.

"Even with the Emperor's physique, he might not be able to withstand an attack from the Death Servants, right?"

Genji did not answer immediately.

He held the spider-cutting blade across his chest, his fingers slowly tracing its surface, from the hilt to the tip. The movement was slow, like a monk wiping a Buddha statue, or a father stroking the forehead of a sleeping child.

Then he looked up.

"can."

His voice remained calm.

"But I need you to help me block the gap behind me."

He paused.

"I can't manage it all by myself."

Caesar and Chu Zihang exchanged a glance.

He didn't speak.

Chapter 686 The Treasure Gallery of the Snake-Headed Eight Families

Genji stood in front of the Ashura wood carving that was attached to the roof.

The Asura depicted in the painting has three faces and six arms, with glaring eyes, standing on flames, wielding a sword and a lotus flower; he is both a war god and a protector. The wood carving is bold and sharp, each chisel mark carrying the obsession of a thousand years ago. The candlelight flows across the uneven surface, as if the Asura is slowly awakening against a burning backdrop.

Genji's hand slipped into the center of the lotus relief beneath Ashura's feet. Hidden among the layers of petals and veins was an almost imperceptible indentation. He pressed his fingertip down.

"Click".

A very soft sound, like the second hand of a pocket watch crossing the midnight hour.

The entire wall began to move.

A massive wooden carving, four meters high and two meters wide, embedded in the center of the wall, along with the entire wall it adorns, slowly and heavily turns to one side around its central axis. Behind the wall is polished black granite, with perfectly sealed joints.

The hidden space appeared before Caesar and Chu Zihang.

Rows of display cases emerged one after another in the darkness, stretching from near to far, until the limit of vision was reached, and still no end could be seen.

"Welcome to the Hebi-Hachi family's treasure hall."

Yuan Zhisheng stood by the door and made a gesture.

It wasn't the elegant gesture of inviting VIPs into an art gallery, but rather the hunter pushing open his armory and saying to his companion: "Take what's handy."

"Today's weapons are supplied without limit."

Caesar remained silent.

He took three steps inside and then stopped.

"Oh."

This was the only sound he could make.

Japanese swords. A long, neat row of them. From ancient straight swords to double-edged warbler knives from the Heian period, from Ōdachi from the Kamakura period to katana from the Muromachi period, each sword lies in a custom-made velvet groove, the inscriptions on the hilt clearly legible under blue light.

The Cross-Shaped Spear. Two meters long, its cross-shaped blade gleamed with a cold, bluish light under the lamplight. It was a heavy weapon used by foot soldiers (shigaru) during the Sengoku period to break through cavalry formations; a single thrust could pierce through both man and horse.

Then came the pistol.

Colt, Smith & Wesson, Mauser, Luger, Browning—these are not antiques displayed in museums, but killing machines that can be loaded with ammunition, bolted open, and used to kill with a single shot within thirty meters.

Hunting rifle. Rifle. Submachine gun.

In the corner, a Gatling gun sat quietly.

The prototype dates back to the 19th century, not the later electrically powered version. The brass barrels are arranged in a circle, resembling a multi-barreled rocket launcher awaiting ignition. Next to it are stacks of crates of discontinued .45-70 government ammunition.

Caesar reached out and touched the rifling inside the barrel; the wear was minimal, indicating excellent maintenance. With a simple crank, it could still fire two hundred lead bullets per minute.

Armor was hanging on the wall.

A 17th-century Florentine white iron heavy armor, with the Medici family crest engraved on the chest. Next to it is a Japanese-style Nanban tunic, its red paint still bright, and its breastplate specially forged to withstand a frontal thrust from a three-pronged spear.

Caesar worked as a guide at the weapons museum at the College of Kassel.

He recognized many of the weapons here, not as collectibles, but as auction items. Legendary guns that fetch millions of dollars at Christie's, Sotheby's, and Olympia auctions in London were just ordinary displays here. Some were even unique pieces, making even Gattuso's museum, touted as having "the largest private arms collection in Europe," seem shabby in comparison.

He casually drew a Japanese sword.

The blade made a very faint, silk-like sound as it left its sheath. Candlelight flowed along the blade's groove, shattering into countless stardust along an arc called "bay."

He tested the blade with his sleeve.

A clean, silent tear appeared at the cuff of the shirt, the edge as smooth as a specimen cut with a scalpel.

This knife is over a thousand years old. But its sharpness has not diminished in the slightest since it was forged in the kiln.

"That's really good."

Caesar pushed the sword back into its sheath.

"The weapon shop of the Snake Clan?"

“Modern weapons are all kept in this museum.” Genjiro didn’t look at him, smashed the glass of a display case with the hilt of his sword, and took out the weapons one by one. “The real ancient swords are not here. My father has his own sword museum, which has collected more than 4,600 famous swords from the Asuka period to the Edo period.”

He paused.

"I'll take you to see it another time when I have the chance."

Chu Zihang remained silent. He picked up a Sten submachine gun manufactured in Britain during World War II, skillfully pulled back the bolt, and inspected the chamber and recoil spring.

The Sten gun was notoriously cheap, cobbled together from the simplest stamped parts, costing less than ten dollars to produce in wartime. But this one was in excellent condition; every part had been carefully cleaned of rust and oiled, and the bolt moved as smoothly as new. Chu Zihang placed it on his left and picked up a second and a third.

"Most of them are veterans."

Genjiro pulled a gold-inlaid Colt revolver from the display case and casually tossed it to Caesar.

"Choose whichever you like. Just to be on the safe side, it's best to bring a few extra in case they explode or jam."

Caesar caught the gun.

This is a limited-edition gift gun, the "Western Watcher," specially made by Colt to commemorate the era of the American West's expansion. The ivory grip is engraved with a relief of bison galloping across the plains, the barrel is gold-plated, and the cylinder is engraved with the signatures of seven legendary gunners. Its caliber is astonishingly large—a .44 Magnum—the same guns that cowboys used to smash the skulls of charging bison with a single shot.

The only downside is that the recoil is too strong.

Without specialized training, the recoil from firing the first shot will cause someone to fall backward and overturn.

Caesar whistled.

This gun is truly the best choice as a replacement for the Desert Eagle.

“Mercury explosive rounds.” Genji threw a box of bullets over, which Caesar caught with one hand. “Use them with this gun. Their penetrating power isn’t as good as the Mercury Core Blunt Gold Armor-Piercing Rounds developed by the Academy, but they explode upon hitting a target, creating a large cloud of mercury smoke. They’re very useful for blocking dragons and Deadpools.”

Caesar opened the ammunition box. The bottom of the brass cartridge case was engraved with a special mark, not the serial number from the Kassel Equipment Department, but a Japanese inscription he didn't recognize.

He stuffed the ammunition box into the inside pocket of his trench coat.

When he turned around, Genji had already walked towards the cabinet on the other side.

He stopped in front of a Spanish-made flintlock muzzle-loading musket.

That was a hunting rifle commissioned by 18th-century nobles. The handle was inlaid with ivory and enamel in intricate scrollwork patterns, the trigger guard was gilded, and the muzzle was large enough to hold spherical lead bullets two centimeters in diameter. This old-fashioned hunting rifle possessed terrifying firepower. Spanish nobles used it to hunt Iberian lions and rhinoceroses; a single shot was enough to shatter the skull of an adult male lion.

Caesar took it down from the wall.

He weighed it in his hand; it was heavy. The barrel was a hand-forged composite iron tube, with silver wire wrapped around it to create a non-slip texture.

He brought the gun to his mouth.

Gunpowder was poured from the horn powder container into the chamber, tamped down, lead bullets were loaded, and then tamped down again. He pulled a Cohiba from his cigar box, put it in his mouth, and then tilted the muzzle of the gun towards the head of the cigar—

"boom!"

The loud noise echoed in the enclosed space.

The cigar was lit.

The lead bullet flew diagonally upwards, hit the ceiling, bounced, landed, and rolled twice on the floor.

Caesar looked up at the ceiling.

There was only a shallow, almost invisible dent.