Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Tachibana Masamune took a deep breath, trying his best to suppress his surging emotions.

"Even today, that image is still etched in my mind. That semi-evolved being emerged from the flames, and he clearly recognized me! He smiled at me! He looked like a king among demons, and I couldn't take my eyes off his smiling face. The overwhelming pressure made it hard for me to breathe, and I could only kneel down, only bow my head and wait for him to kill me..."

"Just then, my phone rang. It was you calling. You were just casually asking me something, like if I wanted to go hiking this weekend. I pressed the answer button with all my might. I wanted to say goodbye and tell you to run away, because that thing was something no ordinary person could fight. But as soon as I heard your voice, the oppressive force pressing down on me suddenly disappeared."

“I ran for my life. With that half-evolved creature’s strength, I wouldn’t have had a chance to escape. He was on the same level as Erii. Luckily, I had prepared to die together with him and planted explosives before infiltrating. I detonated them remotely, jumped out of the window, and crushed the entire twelve-story building on top of him.”

"Is he dead?" Genji asked.

“No. Absolutely not,” Masamune Tachibana shook his head. “Because after that, more and more potent evolution drugs began to circulate quietly among the demons. It’s as if someone is constantly sowing seeds, and every seed takes root and sprouts in the demon’s body, blooming into hideous flowers.”

“I know I can’t escape now. The King recognized me; he must be a researcher from Black Swan Harbor. He’s seen me before. I’ve had plastic surgery, but I can’t hide it from him. The sins I committed back then have been unearthed by that devil! I must kill him, even if it costs me my life! This devil is someone I personally released from hell!”

Chapter 725 "The Truth" - Tachibana Masamune's Oral Account (Part 2)

Genjiro fell silent. He looked at Tachibana Masamune's weary face and his bloodshot eyes, and suddenly recalled the bits and pieces of the past few years.

“No wonder you’re always so cautious in your actions, but when it comes to cracking down on the Ghost Clan, you’re ruthless and unscrupulous, like a warlike madman,” he said.

“That’s right.” Tachibana Masamune made no attempt to hide it. “I had to use every available force to wipe out the Oni Clan and kill that King! To that end, I gritted my teeth and climbed step by step to a high position in the family, publicly revealing my identity as the heir of the Tachibana family. I passed the blood test, became the master of the Tachibana family, and finally became the patriarch. I finally had the means to fight the King head-on.”

He raised his head and stared at Yuan Zhisheng.

"And I still have you and the maiden. You are π, and the maiden is ω—you are Herzog's most perfect creation. After the Nameless Harbor was destroyed, the gene pool was also destroyed. Even if Herzog were to come back to life, he could not create such outstanding products as you. You have the potential to rival the King. I have been waiting for you to grow up, waiting for you to awaken. But I was still wrong."

"Herzog lied to me about you and the young girl. You brothers were used as a control group in the experiment; you were mirror images, and you carried the exact opposite dragon genes."

"Mirror image?" This was the first time Genji had heard this term.

"The dragon genes that Herzog isolated, like human genes, have a double helix structure. He speculated that one helix would produce stable hybrids, while the other would carry the strongest bloodthirsty genes. But he wasn't sure which helix contained the bloodthirsty genes, so he used both helixes to create hybrids. The bloodthirsty genes are either in your sequence or in the young girl's sequence. You are each other's counterparts; one is a successful product, the other is destined to be a failure. Like people in and out of a mirror, the person outside the mirror is a noble emperor, while the person reflected in the mirror is a hideous demon."

"This is what is called a mirror image."

“So, the young girl was a failed product,” Genji said in a low voice.

Tachibana Masamune slowly shook his head.

"No. You are the failed product. What Herzog wants are demons with bloodthirsty genes. Once he finds a way to control demons, he can create a terrifying army. He doesn't want to create an emperor at all; you are the byproduct!"

“No wonder the girl changed later,” Genji said softly. “Because the demon awakened inside him. My brother disappeared, leaving only a body possessed by the demon.”

He closed his eyes. Years later, he still refused to recall that night with its menacing moonlight. On that night, the person closest to him turned into a ghost.

That night, the moon was large and round, its light falling on the young girl's face, into her golden eyes, and onto her face that no longer resembled a human. He stood there, covered in blood, and smiled at Yuan Zhisheng. His smile held a familiar warmth, yet also a strangeness he had never seen before.

That was a younger brother's last smile for his older brother, and also a ghost's first gaze upon its prey.

"The story is over. Now you should understand why I handed over the position of patriarch to you, right? I am a sinner and have no right to lead the people in a just war."

Tachibana Masamune lowered his gaze to his outstretched hands. They were covered in calluses, scars, and the indelible marks of time.

“Because of my desires, countless lives have been lost. My hands are stained with blood. I released a demon from Siberia, but I was powerless to slay it. I have implicated you and harmed Erii. Today, the experimental subjects I raised with my own hands have killed so many innocent people. According to clan rules, I should commit seppuku to atone for my sins.”

"If I commit seppuku to atone for my sins, you, Chisei, will be able to answer to your family. But before I die, I have one more request, and I hope you will grant it."

Tachibana Masamune straightened up and drew the short sword from his robes. He looked quietly at Genjiro, his eyes calm and resolute, as if he were someone who had made all the preparations and was only waiting for the final judgment.

Yuan Zhisheng remained silent for a moment, then turned to look at the corpses covered with white sheets in the corner. One after another, they were neatly arranged along the wall of the mural hall. They were all clansmen who had died today, some young, some old, some he knew, and some whose names he couldn't recall. Their blood had dried, and their bodies were cold.

"Yes," he said softly, "If someone who has committed such a heinous crime can go unpunished, how can I, as the patriarch, face those clansmen who died unjustly?"

State your conditions.

Tachibana Masamune nodded slightly.

"I don't think I need to elaborate on killing the King General," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. "What I want to talk about is Erii. She has become a semi-evolved being, more dangerous than any of the Death Servants you have ever killed... But she is my only daughter, and I simply cannot bear to see her executed. She doesn't have much time left, and besides me, you are the only person in this world she can still rely on."

"If she can be of use in the battle against the king, that would be best. If she completely loses control, then please do it yourself and cut off her head. But until that day comes, please let her have some fun."

"As for my affairs, don't tell her. She's lived a good life without a father all these years. Suddenly telling her that she has a father, and then suddenly making her lose him, will only add to her sorrow."

Genji remained silent for a long time. He stared at Tachibana Masamune's haggard face, a man who was once full of vigor but now resembled an old tree about to wither.

"Understood. They are all reasonable requests."

Yuan Zhisheng threw the cigarette butt on the ground, crushed it out with his toe, and drew his knife.

Tachibana Masamune let out a long breath, exhaling the burden that a person had carried for twenty years.

He looked up at the roof and murmured, "My heart is terminally ill, and my soul wanders in the barren wilderness."

This is the farewell line left by the Japanese haiku master Matsuo Bashō before his death: "旅に病で、夢は枯野をかけ廻る". He slightly modified it, and the meaning is like a gentle breeze on the water, creating ripples that then disappear without a trace.

As the dying words of a yakuza tycoon, this was perhaps too Zen-like. Tachibana Masamune spent twenty years transforming himself from an ambitious KGB agent into a Japanese man who revered spiritual practice. In those twenty years, he learned haiku, the tea ceremony, and how to end his life with a knife. But what he could never learn was how to let go of his own suffering.

Genjiro kicked his sword and walked behind Tachibana Masamune, raising it high above his head. Tachibana Masamune raised the sword and plunged it into his left abdomen. The custom for seppuku is to make a horizontal cut from left to right, followed by a second to behead the victim, severing both pain and life at the same time.

The blade slashed down suddenly, its arc of light like a waterfall.

Blood splattered everywhere as Tachibana Masamune collapsed to the ground, trembling all over.

The dagger lay embedded in the ground. Tachibana Masamune's right hand, which held the dagger, had all five fingers severed at the base; blood gushed from the cuts, staining the white cloth crimson. He hadn't been able to cut his own abdomen, not because he dared, but because he no longer had a hand.

Genjiro expressionlessly sheathed his sword. Then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, knelt down, and tightly tied it around the base of Tachibana Masamune's severed finger to stop the bleeding. His swordsmanship was unparalleled; he had severed five fingers in one stroke, yet still left a short section of the finger root to stop the bleeding.

Too much force would injure the palm, too little force would not be enough to secure the seal; this is a technique that only top-tier swordsmen can achieve.

"You want to exchange five times the punishment of losing a finger for my life?" Tachibana Masamune gasped, a bitter smile appearing on his face.

“In this world, those who make mistakes always have to pay the price,” Genji said, head bowed, his handkerchief wrapped around his neck. “If I don’t punish you, I won’t have the face to see my clansmen lying under the white sheets. But what’s the point of killing you?”

"Father, if you want to atone for your sins, your life is not enough. You might as well stay and watch me kill the king with my own hands."

"As for taking care of Erii, I can't agree to that either. All I can do is play video games with her."

He tucked the knife back into his waistband and walked toward the gate.

"In truth, all these years, I've been nothing more than a knife in your hand. Father, you tell me who to cut, and I've never said a word against it. Now that you say to cut the king, then I'll cut the king."

"So what if I've lost the hand that held the knife? My knife is still here."

Tachibana Masamune knelt in a pool of blood.

"Chishin," he called out.

Yuan Zhisheng did not turn around.

"I heard you," he said, and then walked into the darkness.

Chapter 726 Caesar and Chu Zihang's Male Prostitute Services

Chu Zihang and Caesar walked out of the private room and headed towards the lobby.

Ukiyo-e prints hung on the dark walls, and warm yellow wall lamps, spaced two meters apart, cast dim, yellowish halos on the floor. The corridor was narrow, barely wide enough for two people to pass side by side, and the floor was covered with a dark red carpet that made no sound when stepped on. Occasionally, a waiter carrying a tray would come from the opposite direction, stepping aside to let him pass, bowing slightly, his eyes filled with respect for the two top courtesans.

Ukyo and Basara King are two names that are well-known among regular customers.

Ukyo is Chu Zihang's stage name. His style is that of a "cold and aloof nobleman." He speaks little, has few expressions, and when he sits there, he is like a drawn katana, cold and dangerous.

This type of establishment isn't typically the mainstream for host clubs; customers come here seeking warmth and comfort—who wants to pay to face an iceberg? Yet, some women fall for it. And not just any women, but prominent figures—corporate executives, politicians' wives, and daughters of tycoons.

They weren't lacking in money or men; what they lacked was that feeling of having their desire to conquer ignited. Ukyo never actively tried to please anyone. He sat there, drinking, silent, occasionally glancing at you. That one glance could make your heart skip a beat.

Basara King, Caesar's stage name. His style is the complete opposite of Ukyo's—passionate, elegant, and witty, like a true Italian aristocrat. He will listen to every word you say with a smile, offer you your favorite drink at just the right moment, and look at you with those deep blue eyes, making you feel like the most important person in the world. He's not playing any role; he is simply that kind of person. His composure and refinement are innate and cannot be faked.

The two turned into the lobby.

A huge crystal chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, casting a dazzling yet soft light. Surrounding the room are rows of sofa booths, each table with a small lamp, the light focused on the surface, creating a sense of privacy and security for guests seated in the shadows.

It's 10 p.m., the liveliest time of the night. Almost all the booths are full, and the sounds of women laughing and clinking glasses fill the air.

The waiter led the way, taking the two to a VIP booth at the very back of the lobby.

Two women were sitting in the booth.

A woman in her early thirties, dressed in a black Chanel suit, her hair elegantly styled in a bun, a string of lustrous pearls around her neck. Her makeup was refined and understated, her lips a pale mauve, her eyeliner meticulously drawn. She looked every bit the elite woman who worked in Ginza, perhaps a senior executive at a foreign investment bank, or a partner at a law firm. On the table in front of her sat a half-empty bottle of Perrier-Jouët, and a small glass of champagne, bubbles rising slowly under the light.

The other woman was younger, around twenty-five or twenty-six, wearing a burgundy velvet dress with a low neckline that revealed a large expanse of her fair chest. Her hair, loose over her shoulders, was a deep chestnut brown with large, wavy curls. Her makeup was heavier, with bright red lips and shimmering eyeshadow. On the table in front of her was a glass of whiskey, which she had drunk most of; her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes were somewhat unfocused.

"Ukyo-kun!" The woman in the burgundy dress was the first to see Chu Zihang and immediately raised her hand. "Here! I've been waiting for you for ages!"

Chu Zihang nodded slightly, walked over, and sat down opposite her. He didn't show any extra expression, but the woman didn't mind at all. She knew that Ukyo was just that kind of person—cold and aloof. But it was precisely because of this coldness that when he occasionally glanced at you, it was all the more captivating.

Caesar then approached the woman in the Chanel suit and sat down beside her, rather than opposite her. This was his style—sitting next to his guests, rather than opposite them, to create a more intimate and equal atmosphere.

"Good evening, Miss Yuriko," Caesar said, turning to face the woman, his voice low and gentle. "You look radiant today. Did something good happen?"

The woman called Yuriko smiled slightly, picked up her champagne glass, and took a sip.

“Nothing particularly good,” she said, with a reserved joy, “I just landed a big project today and wanted to celebrate with someone. After thinking about it, I thought of you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Caesar said, picking up the bottle from the table. He first poured champagne into Yuriko’s glass, then poured one for himself. He raised his glass and gently clinked it against hers. “To your project.”

"For the sake of the project," Yuriko smiled.

The woman opposite him, the one in the burgundy dress, reached her hand across the table and placed it on the back of Chu Zihang's hand. Chu Zihang neither pulled away nor responded, simply letting her hold his hand. He knew this was part of the job; he didn't need to resist, nor did he need to comply.

“Ukyo-kun, you look even more handsome than usual today,” the woman said, leaning forward and lowering her neckline. “Is there something good happening?”

"No," Chu Zihang said.

"You're lying," the woman pouted coquettishly, "Every time you say no, it means something good is going to happen. Tell me, I want to know."

Chu Zihang remained silent. He raised his eyes and glanced at the woman. Just one glance, like the moonlight in late autumn falling on a lake, clear and bright. The woman's breath hitched, her cheeks flushed even more, and her lips parted slightly, but she forgot what she wanted to say.

"It's just that the weather has gotten better," Chu Zihang said, turning his gaze away. "It's neither too hot nor too cold, perfect for going out for a walk."

"Ah...yes," the woman paused for a second before reacting, "It's really neither too hot nor too cold today. I was hesitant about wearing a jacket when I went out, but then I thought it would be too much trouble, so I didn't. Do you think I'm wearing this too lightly?"

As she spoke, she tugged at her collar, revealing more of her collarbone.

Chu Zihang glanced at it, then looked away.

“No,” he said, “it looks great.”

Meanwhile, Caesar and Yuriko's conversation deepened considerably. Yuriko was a super regular customer, spending over five million yen a month at the club, with Basara King being the most frequent customer. Her infatuation with Caesar was an open secret, and the other male escorts in the club privately speculated about when she would ask to "take him away."

Of course, the club has rules that the male hosts only drink with customers and do not provide any other services. But rules are rules, and people's hearts are hearts. A customer who spends five million yen a month can always find a way to make the rules more flexible.

"There seem to be quite a few new faces in the shop lately," Yuriko said casually, her gaze lingering on Caesar's face. "Is business good?"

“Thanks to you,” Caesar said, “but no matter how many new faces there are, they are not as important as old friends.”

“You always have such a nice voice,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder if you say the same thing to every customer?”