Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

He waved his hand, signaling the entire team to retreat. Tonight's objective was to launch a surprise attack on the Red Well Tunnel, not to waste resources chasing a girl whose words had gone out of control.

The men from the Kanto branch silently and rapidly disappeared into the depths of the valley along another mountain path.

She stood there for a long time, until she heard the rumbling of the river below the mountain, until the warm blood that didn't belong to her slowly dissipated from her body.

She turned around, wrung out her soaked sleeves, and then climbed up the winding mountain road.

We're going to Takamagahara.

Lu Mingfei, whom she hadn't seen in a long time, was there.

Chapter 845 Fuma Kotaro

"I've found your younger brother," Fuuma Kotaro always said briefly.

He stood in front of Genjiro's desk, his aged figure flickering in and out of the three-a-minute rain outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. "He's hiding in Kabukicho, in a host club, with people from Kassel College."

"How did you find them?" Genji asked in surprise.

Two things came crashing down on us at the same time.

Just as the tunnel boring machine in the Red Well Tunnel broke through the last rock wall, emergency communications from the Kanto branch launching a surprise attack on the upper reaches of the Tama River were intermittently transmitted back through Ryoma Genichiro's encrypted channel. Tachibana Masamune was already gone.

He needed to decide which battlefield to rush to within a quarter of an hour, but the moment Fuma Kotaro pushed open the door, it seemed as if the choice had already been made for him.

Kotaro Fuma didn't answer. He simply walked to the French windows and reached out to pull back the heavy, dark gray curtains.

The giant LED advertising screen on the exterior wall of the Genji Heavy Industries building, which covers dozens of floors, is playing the latest store promotion video for Takamagahara in the early morning rain.

The images on the screen were dazzling: Caesar Gattuso, wearing a purple velvet suit with two red straps cinching his bare chest, was raising one corner of his mouth at the camera, revealing the expression that the store manager, Humpback Whale, called "Basara King's ultimate secret - the Emperor's Smile"; Chu Zihang was positioned sideways in the second frame, a white rose pinned to the collar of his semi-transparent black gauze shirt, his cold gaze sweeping over the camera through his eyelashes like a lone lamp suddenly lit in a snowy night; the third frame featured Lu Mingfei, who was wrapped in a black striped suit with his back completely exposed, clumsily imitating his two predecessors as he flicked open a folding fan with the three calligraphy characters "Little Cherry Blossom" written on it, the fan covering half his face, his eyes wide and bright as he tried to stare.

Yuan Zhisheng involuntarily reached out and covered his forehead.

No wonder that even with the Snake Clan's intelligence network, which covers almost the entire Kanto region, they haven't been able to find these people's hiding place for so many days.

There is an insurmountable gap between the thinking patterns of ordinary people and the thought processes of neurotics.

Who could have predicted that, at this critical moment when they were wanted by the entire city and could lose their lives at any moment, these three elites from Kassel College would actually hide in the largest host club in Kabukicho and even become hosts themselves? And they seem to be quite popular.

The young commissioner who had once sat with him in the lounge drinking coffee and discussing the budget allocation of the executive bureau was now flirting with him with a huge, high-resolution image.

When the screen switched to the fourth frame, Kazama Ruri's profile appeared on the screen. He was wearing the bartender's black and white vest, his long hair was tied at the side of his shoulder with a dark purple ribbon, and his slender fingers were holding a glass of freshly mixed Mizukuri whiskey. He looked through the rim of the glass and smiled very lightly at the camera.

Yuan Zhisheng's bitter smile vanished instantly, and his expression returned to its cold, hard state.

The younger brother works as a bartender, while the older brother blocks all possible escape routes for his younger brother from his office.

“That shop is now completely surrounded, including the airspace and sewers,” said Kotaro Fuma. “This matter is too serious, and everyone is waiting for you to come and handle it personally.”

“Someone deliberately leaked their information to us. Who would do that?” Genji asked.

"There are three companies managing outdoor advertising screens in Tokyo. This evening, all three companies simultaneously received a call from the same mysterious client, requesting that a promotional video for a host club in Takamagahara, Shinjuku Ward, be played on all available screens. The client prepaid a very substantial advertising fee with a bearer check, so the advertisement was broadcast promptly at 3:00 AM, covering more than 100 screens in Shinjuku, Ginza, Shibuya, Roppongi, and in front of Tokyo Station. We have contacted each advertising company, and they all stated that the other party did not leave any traceable and valid identity information."

"So, nobody knows who that mystery customer is?"

"No one. None of the receptionists at the three companies have seen him in person, and all communications have been encrypted and relayed."

“I can guess.” Genji looked out the window at the night sky, which was stained a murky purplish-red by the torrential rain and neon lights, and slowly turned the spider in his hand. “The attack on the Red Well was launched at three o’clock, and the advertisement was also scheduled to air at three o’clock. He wants to create two unavoidable emergencies in two completely opposite directions at the same time, forcing me to stay in Tokyo to deal with the girl’s matter.”

"It's less of a scheme and more of a mockery. He's forcing you to choose between two sides of the scale: your own brother or the god who's awakening deep within the Well of Bones."

“He thinks he can manipulate everything at will,” Genjiro murmured, then placed the fully sheathed ancient sword across his lap. “King of the Wind Demon, which side do you think I will choose?”

“You will go to the Red Well. Although you care deeply about your younger brother, you are, after all, the 75th head of the Snake-Headed Eight Families. What is hatching deep within the Well of Hidden Bones concerns the survival of our family and the Japanese archipelago. If we resolve it, our family will finally have a chance to break free from the shackles that the White King has imposed on our bloodline over the past hundred centuries.”

Fuma Kotaro raised his aged eyes, "And your younger brother, please allow me to speak frankly, he is a demon."

“Yes.” Genjiro took a deep breath and stood up from his chair. “I am the head of the Snake-Headed Eight Families.”

"Then the affairs in Takamagahara will be handled by your elder and the head of the Sakurai family on your behalf. We will do everything in our power to ensure your younger brother's safety. I swear this in the name of the Fuma family."

"If you encounter resistance, you have the right to take any measures you wish to take." Genji stopped at the doorway, his back to Kotaro Fuma, and said, "Many years ago, Chizuru became a completely different person. His terror is beyond what you can imagine with ninjas and guns. It is better for him to die than for him to escape our control."

After a moment of silence, Fuma Kotaro rested his hands on the umbrella handle in front of him and slowly bent down: "I understand completely."

Genjiro grabbed Spider Cutter with his left hand and Dojigiri Yasutsuna with his right, then slammed open the ebony door of the office with his shoulder.

Fuma Kotaro followed closely behind. At the end of the brightly lit corridor, the two stepped into different elevators. Genji went up to the rooftop helipad, while Fuma Kotaro went down to the underground parking garage.

A Rolls-Royce with a spider emblem was parked under the railway bridge next to Exit 4 of Shinjuku subway station. Fuma Kotaro sat in the back seat, smoking his old silver pipe that he had used for forty years, his eyes closed in concentration.

He was in charge of directing the blockade of all the alleys and lanes in Shinjuku, and the encirclement had to be airtight. Not a single bird that did not belong to the Snake-Headed Eight Families was allowed to fly out of the windows of Takamagahara.

But he couldn't order the first shot to be fired. In the ironclad rules of negotiation between underworld families, resorting to violence before the negotiators even speak is a double humiliation to both families.

He held a loyalty and expectation for Genjiro that was beyond that of a retainer to his patriarch. He believed that this young man could quickly deal with the monster that was writhing and taking shape in the blood river deep in the Red Well, which was like a birthing bed, and then take a helicopter back to Shinjuku to personally settle the old debt that had entangled him and his brother for half their lives.

Suddenly, a sharp engine screech came from overhead—the unique screeching of a lightweight, high-revving engine pushed to its limits as it stalled and plummeted.

Fuma Kotaro instinctively looked up and saw through the sunroof of the Rolls-Royce that a red Alfa Romeo was tumbling down the railway bridge, its four wheels still futilely scratching at the empty night sky, the braking system completely malfunctioning.

In a fraction of a second, it struck the roof of the Rolls-Royce. The massive crash of the frame beams and roof reinforcements bending and breaking simultaneously echoed beneath the bridge, sending shards of glass raining into the passenger compartment. The airbags in both cars deployed simultaneously upon impact, and Kotaro Fuma, along with his seat, was pinned to the back by the force of the airbags.

A matte black military triangular dagger silently pierced the hole in the sunroof glass, stopping precisely less than two inches from the back of his neck.

Fuma Kotaro did not turn around.

He caught a faint scent of white moss musk amidst the hissing sound of the airbag slowly deflating. A young girl stood behind him, her long platinum blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her wrist holding the dagger as steady as a stone statue.

-----------------

“What are they waiting for? Instead of rain, they’re raining bullets? Hundreds of guns are pointed at us and they’re not firing. Do they need to collectively build up their emotions before they open fire? Aren’t they afraid the guns will misfire with the rain pouring down on them?” Fingel pressed his ear to the peephole behind the door and peered out for a while before turning back to the people inside with an extremely serious and puzzled tone.

“You really are my second senior brother,” Lu Mingfei said, leaning against the bar counter, still holding the tail of a fried shrimp tempura in his hand.

"I'm not your second senior brother, I'm clearly your eldest senior brother!"

"I'm talking about that pig in 'Journey to the West.' The monsters put that pig on a steamer and turned on the steam, and it even lectured the other pigs being steamed next to it, saying that these monsters were obviously novices and didn't know that you should cover things when steaming. Only by covering it can the steam be contained, and you don't need to add more firewood. Just simmer it slowly over a low flame, and it'll be perfectly cooked overnight." Lu Mingfei stuffed the shrimp tail into his mouth and chewed it a few times, making a muffled sound.

"Damn, this pig is so despicable it's unbearable to look at," Fingel concluded.

"I suddenly don't want to talk to you anymore. Can you please shut up?"

After downing half a glass of whiskey, Caesar heard the sound of a nice car engine approaching from the end of the long street, piercing through the downpour.

He slightly raised his eyebrows, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth; the important figure in charge of the negotiations had finally made his appearance.

Caesar was all too familiar with this sound; it was the engine of the Rolls-Royce Phantom. What spewed from the exhaust pipe was not noise, but a heavy, low growl that belonged only to the nobles of the old era.

He stood up from the bar stool, holding a whiskey glass, and stepped straight into the rain through the French windows.

Chu Zihang switched the Desert Eagle to his left hand and followed.

The human wall formed by gang members slowly parted to create a gap about ten meters wide.

The Rolls-Royce stopped directly below the neon sign at the entrance of Takamagahara. The driver opened the back door, and Sakurai Nanami did not ask anyone to hold an umbrella for her.

She walked forward calmly towards Caesar's gun, her attire a far cry from her Executive Bureau uniform. Tonight, she wore an extremely luxurious "black tomesode" kimono, with silver cherry blossoms and pink morning glories embroidered on the cuffs and hem. A gold-threaded brocade obi tied around her waist, and a delicate Hermès mini Kelly bag hung on her left wrist.

She didn't look like she was there for underworld negotiations; she looked more like she had just stepped off a VIP banquet at the Imperial Hotel.

Caesar casually took another clean whiskey glass from the bar, poured the whiskey, handed one to Chu Zihang, and then took a few steps forward to place the remaining glass in front of Sakurai Nanami.

The three of them stood in the pouring rain, each accepting a glass of wine from the rain-soaked surface. Raindrops pounded on the amber wine, creating tiny ripples.

"So you are the negotiator sent by the Snake Clan tonight?" Caesar raised his glass.

Sakurai Nanami held the glass of wine, a silent smile playing on her lips.

She was already middle-aged, and the years had left their mark on her eyes and brows, but when she smiled, she was still as captivating as a teenage girl holding a bouquet of flowers for the first time. Her natural charm could not be hidden.

Caesar could tell she was very nervous. Even though hundreds of gun barrels were all pointed at the same building, and the Snake Clan clearly had the upper hand, her hand holding the cup was trembling almost imperceptibly.

“No, I am not qualified to conduct such negotiations. The only person qualified to negotiate face-to-face with the members of Kassel College is the head of the family. Unfortunately, the head of the family is currently preoccupied with another equally important matter and is unable to come in time, so he has entrusted the Wind Demon Lord to meet with you all on his behalf. I am here on behalf of the Wind Demon Lord to extend my greetings in advance. We have absolutely no ill intentions towards the members of the college. I am sure you all know very well what we need.” She lowered her eyes slightly, clasped her hands in front of her knees, and bowed deeply.

The human wall split open again.

Fuma Kotaro strode over, his steps slow and deliberate, each stomp of his shoe landing firmly in the puddles, like a heavy marble chess piece being steadily pressed onto a chessboard. His long, snow-white eyebrows were soaked through by the rain, and he wore a black kimono covered by an iron-gray jinhaori, his eyes showing no fear.

Give him a suit of armor and a katana, and he becomes the old samurai in the Warring States period painting who is leading his men to break through the enemy's main camp.

“Negotiation is a tough job, and an elderly person’s body might not be able to withstand this kind of downpour.” Caesar finished the last sip of whiskey in his glass, casually placed the empty glass on the handrail of the steps, and coldly looked at the respected old ninja, shaking the raindrops off his golden hair. “And if I may be frank, Mr. Fuma, you’ve gone to great lengths to surround this place all night, even sealing off the air and the sewers, yet you come to us alone. Aren’t you afraid I’ll shoot you on the spot?”

Fuma Kotaro did not answer him, but simply stood there in silence.

A girl silently raised a black umbrella over his head from behind, shielding him from the cascading rain.

A few strands of platinum blonde hair slipped out from the brim of her hat, and the firelight cast an unshakable shadow deep within her emotionless pupils.

"Zero?" Everyone on Lu Mingfei's side was stunned for a moment.

Zero stood there, her slender hand gripping the umbrella handle, as if the hundreds of gun barrels pointing in the same direction around her were merely an untimely breeze. Water dripped from the hem of her trench coat, and the shallow cut on the web of her right hand, made not long ago when she seized the blade near the Red Well, remained.

"Hello everyone. Long time no see," she greeted them expressionlessly.

"It seems we kidnapped the wrong person. Kidnapping you won't do any good." She lowered her head, looking at the back of Fuuma Kotaro shrouded in a black kimono.

“I am not the negotiator tonight, and I will never negotiate under duress. There are hundreds of guns pointed at you here, but you can use them to cut my neck whenever you want,” Kotaro Fuma’s voice was calm and hoarse. “You can cut off the neck I’ve held up all my life, but if I’m coerced into speaking with Kassel College, what will be cut off is the honor I’ve protected for over seventy years.”

Zero paused for a moment, then nodded.

She retrieved the military dagger from the back of Kotaro Fuma's neck, tucked it into the narrow alloy sheath in the cuff of her trench coat, and walked towards Caesar through the puddles.

Suddenly, Kotaro Fuma stood up, bent down, and gently lifted Zero into his arms. He slowed his pace and walked slowly toward Caesar. As he approached, the pressure emanating from him made the raindrops seem afraid to touch the ground, and Caesar's knuckles tightened instinctively as he gripped the Desert Eagle.

Kotaro Fuma walked up to Caesar, bowed slightly with utmost respect, and handed Zero over securely: "This is a student from your esteemed school who has recently earned our utmost respect in Japan. Although she is a woman, she possesses the heart of a samurai. When she attacks, she is like a raging fire; when she is still, she is as imposing as Mount Tai. Every move she makes upholds absolute loyalty to her fellow students and allies."

"I now return her to you all in her entirety."

Lu Mingfei froze behind the bar, trying hard to suppress the smile that was about to twitch on his face. He silently thought to himself, "Grandpa, at your age, you actually praised a kidnapper who had a military dagger pointed at the back of your neck like a flower. You completely misunderstood this girl's logic. For her, the reason she let go of you had nothing to do with samurai integrity. She simply felt that you were no longer useful."

“Catch me, Lu Mingfei. Don’t you still have a pair of hands that are free?” Ling asked, staring at Lu Mingfei expressionlessly.

Just as Lu Mingfei was about to extend his arm, Fingel darted between the two and snatched Zero away, his movements as passionate as if he were grabbing the first bouquet of flowers from a bride as she landed.

"Don't worry! You're safe now!" He lowered his head and gently patted Ling's face with his rough fingers, which were still covered in food scraps. His eyes and brows were filled with a cheap masculinity that he had just temporarily learned from some famous actor.

“Oh…I wasn’t talking to you just now.” Zero paused slightly.

"It's alright! Junior brother's free, so am I!" Fingel hugged her and backed towards the door, his eyebrows dancing with excitement. "Don't you think my physique has that kind of ancient Greek hero statue vibe?"

Fuma Kotaro was silent for a moment, then looked down at his chest.

The muzzle of the Desert Eagle was pressed firmly against his greyish-white battle robe, right up to his heart.

The gun was in Fingel's hand; in the instant his body crossed with Lu Mingfei's, he had already slipped it away with remarkable ease from the gap where Caesar had tucked it into his waistband.