Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

The sturdiness of this floor was truly abnormal. A lead bullet of that power couldn't even penetrate the wall.

He carried the antique hunting rifle on his back.

He turned around.

Genjiro was already dressed in a set of red-lacquered southern barbarian tunic.

The breastplate glowed a deep crimson in the candlelight, its edges reinforced with iron. The mirror in the center was polished smooth as a mirror, reflecting his cold, stern face. The protective armor plates hanging from his waist were layered like fish scales, producing a soft, metallic scraping sound with each step.

He was no longer the wounded man who lay in a pool of blood a few minutes earlier, with seven tranquilizer darts lodged in his abdomen.

He resembled a young daimyo from the Warring States period. Having just retreated from the front lines to his home camp, he removed his blood-stained battle robe, donned brand-new armor, and prepared to mount his horse and charge once more.

He had two long swords tucked into his waistband.

The one on the left is the spider cutter.

On the right is a sword of exactly the same design, with a scabbard of white sharkskin and a tsuba (handguard) with a sunflower pattern. That is the twin brother of the Spider Cutter—Dojigiri Yasutsuna.

A Mauser pistol was inserted directly in front of his lower abdomen, with the holster's strap diagonally across his breastplate.

"Cosplay?"

Caesar tried to be flippant, but his gaze remained fixed on Caesar.

He grabbed a Winchester M97 shotgun and yanked the handguard to chamber a round—the old man hadn't been treated this roughly in a long time, and the recoil spring made a rough, protesting sound.

His fingers touched the engravings on the side of the gun barrel.

There are twelve fine, dense orthographic marks in total.

This means that the soldier who used this gun killed twelve enemies on the battlefield.

"I'm not sure if the barrage of bullets can keep these things out of the elevator shaft," Yuan Zhisheng's voice came from under his helmet, sounding somewhat muffled. "I need to be prepared for close combat."

He took a deep breath and tightened his belt.

“There are other styles as well,” he said, pointing to the dazzling array of armor. “Please feel free to choose any you like, don’t be shy.”

On the wall hung guzoku (armored suits), on the shelves were dōmaru (mascots), and in the corner stood a set of taiko (large armor), a heavy full-body armor worn by samurai in the Heian period, made of thousands of iron plates and leather, weighing over thirty kilograms, making the wearer look like a mobile fortress.

Caesar remained silent for a few seconds.

He looked at the set of white iron heavy armor, Florentine craftsmanship, full plate armor, with perfect ergonomic curves. Wearing it made him look like a Renaissance knight, elegant and deadly.

He then looked at the red lacquered southern barbarian robe that Genji was wearing.

Nanban-do was a domestically produced version of European plate armor from Japan's Sengoku period. It featured a single piece of wrought iron on the chest, bamboo and leather on the back, and was coated with bright red lacquer. Golden family crests shone brightly in the center of the chest plate.

"never mind."

He looked away.

"I really can't accept the aesthetics of you Japanese people."

He turned and walked toward the Gatling gun in the corner.

Chu Zihang did not participate in the discussion about aesthetics.

He stuffed Sten submachine guns into his bag one after another, then a Thompson submachine gun, followed by a dozen or so boxes of .45 ACP ammunition he'd scavenged from another display case. He tested the handle's weight capacity. Not bad; it wouldn't break within twenty meters.

He bundled up the famous swords hanging on the wall and carried them on his back.

The scabbards clashed together, making a crisp, ringing sound.

Then he picked up the bag full of submachine guns and bullets and walked out.

The brass bullets slipped from the edge of the bag and rolled all over the ground with a clatter.

He didn't turn back to pick it up.

time is limited.

Genjiro watched the two men's backs as they walked away.

Blood was still dripping from the hems of their trench coats. Caesar's left cuff was cut when he tested the knife, and Chu Zihang had a purplish-red ligature mark on the back of his neck.

Their gait was unsteady—the life-or-death close combat had taken a toll on their stamina.

But none of them stopped.

No one said, "I need to rest for five minutes."

No one hinted that "maybe we can evacuate through the fire escape first."

Yuan Zhisheng suddenly recalled that scene in the deep sea.

The deep-sea submersible "Trieste" ran aground on the seabed ridge of Takamagahara, with the melting nuclear reactor chamber in front and the collapsing Corpse Guardian City behind. He issued an order via radio from the surface: the reactor must be manually detonated to prevent the Corpse Guardian horde from flooding into Tokyo Bay.

He thought he would hear some haggling.

You will hear "We are trying to figure something out".

You will hear all sorts of excuses for procrastination, hesitation, and attempts to find alternatives.

But neither of them said anything.

They trudged through chest-deep lung snail carcasses; the seawater was a dark blue-black, illuminated only by the Cherenkov lights emanating from the nuclear reactor, casting a ghostly bluish-white glow on the seabed. Their Zygren suits twisted and deformed under the extreme water pressure, the cracks in their masks growing ever longer.

None of them stopped.

Neither of them backed down.

Instead, they used all their strength to rush forward.

Like two clumsy ducklings thrown into a rapid current, they struggled to swim upstream.

Yuan Zhisheng took out a cigarette case from his pocket.

The last gentle seven stars.

He put it in his mouth and lit it.

A bluish-white mist swirled and rose through the gaps in the armor.

He took a deep breath.

a long time.

Then crush the cigarette butt on the sole of your shoe.

When the spark went out, it made a very faint hissing sound.

Like a sigh.

He picked up Dojigiri Yasutsuna and followed in the footsteps of the two men.

The lights went out one by one behind them.

The treasure gallery sank back into darkness.

Chapter 687 Drinks in the Vending Machine

Erii stopped and wouldn't move.

She stopped in front of the vending machine, like a cat attracted by dried fish in a shop window, her gaze falling on the orange drink in the third compartment of the second row.

Lu Mingfei followed her gaze.

Orange-flavored fruit juice drink, 350ml, priced at 130 yen. The bottle has an advertising sticker with Yui Aragaki's bright smile on it, with the small print below: "Today's energy, orange!" The advertisement for this drink has been playing on TV every day lately, so it's hard not to recognize it.

"My God, you even know about drinks?" Lu Mingfei said, pulling out his wallet with a long face.

He doesn't care about this small amount of money.

What he cared about was the group of people behind him.

About seven or eight meters away, at the corner of the corridor, a dozen serpentine assassins crouched low, coiling and writhing like giant pythons. Their eyes were fixed intently on Lu Mingfei, their golden pupils glowing like red-hot coals in the darkness. The smaller ones were three or four meters long, while the larger ones were five or six meters. If they stood upright, they would be a full half again as tall as Lu Mingfei.

The heaviest living python is the anaconda, with humans having captured giant individuals weighing half a ton. These Deadpools are estimated to weigh over 100 kilograms, but they are streamlined, muscular 100 kilograms, not bloated 100 kilograms. Their instantaneous attack speed is said to be comparable to that of a lead bullet fired from an old-fashioned musket.

Of course, such calculations are meaningless to Lu Mingfei.

Even if these Deadpools are weakened by 80% and their numbers are reduced to only one or two, he will still die if he runs into them.

So he had already turned off the safety on his pistol.

The gun is tucked into my lower back; if it goes off accidentally, it could injure my buttocks.

This is the sixth floor.

Fortunately, the entire floor had been evacuated. At the end of the corridor, a few overturned office chairs lay scattered, along with a few lost high heels, but no one was there. Otherwise, the place would have been littered with corpses.

The group of Dead Servants followed them from the fourteenth floor, going up and down the stairs. Lu Mingfei had never known before that pythons could climb stairs. They wrapped their tails around the handrails, their muscles contracting in waves as they wriggled upwards segment by segment, their speed not much slower than that of humans.

The Deadpools never dared to get too close to them.

Under pressure from Erii.

But they were unwilling to give up Lu Mingfei, this "delicious food".

The aroma of the food is still lingering in the air.

Erii showed no displeasure at the followers. She neither chased them away nor looked back, but simply held onto Lu Mingfei's wrist and relied on her intuition to find her way.

The issue is--

She really doesn't know the way.

"Ding dong."

Two cans of drinks rolled into the retrieval slot.

Lu Mingfei bent down to pick it up and handed the orange-flavored one to Erii. He also remembered to buy two cans of hot coffee for himself and Frilian. He'd had too many frights tonight; he needed caffeine, anything that could temporarily numb his nerves.

Frillie took a small sip; the instant coffee didn't taste very good.

Erii took the drink but didn't drink it immediately.

She pressed the cool can against her cheek, rubbed it, and then pulled the tab to sip the drink.

Lu Mingfei turned on his phone screen and glanced at the terrain map that he had already worn out from looking at it so many times.

There are quite a few exports, though.

But every passageway ended with a red dot; the enforcement bureau personnel were checking each floor. And that large patch of dense golden dots in the central area of ​​the building—he looked at it dozens of times before finally understanding what it meant: