Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

"So he is undoubtedly an S-class candidate, the best candidate for the Nibelungen Project?" Flamel narrowed his eyes.

"So far, yes," Angs nodded. "We may need to add some training courses for him in the future."

Angers walked to the scabbard and ran his fingers over the hilt of "Rage": "He has more potential than we thought."

"What courses should we add for him?" Flamel asked. "Alchemical weapon usage, dragon rune analysis, bloodline awakening training?"

“Take it one step at a time,” Angers said, withdrawing his hand. “He still needs time to grow.”

Flamel leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol on Angers' face. "Hey, old man, why don't you try to pull out the whole sword yourself?"

Angers' expression froze for a moment, then he slowly shook his head: "I'm very scared."

"afraid of what?"

"Know your limits. Those who can destroy the dragon race should not have limits."

Flamel paused for a moment, then burst into laughter, slapping Angers on the shoulder forcefully. "Angers, you're so cool! So you'll never know your limits if you never try?"

Angers didn't laugh. His gaze fell on an old photograph on his desk. It was of him and his friends when they were young, all smiling so brightly, as if the future was full of hope.

“No, Flamel,” he said softly. “I just know better than anyone what the limits mean.”

Chapter 121 A Deal Under the Cover of Night

Rain pattered on the abandoned Pier 13 in Tokyo Bay, like countless tiny fingers tapping on rusty iron.

Ryunosuke Kiryu stood in the shadows, his black trench coat blending into the night, with only the occasional flash of car headlights casting fleeting light on his profile.

He glanced at his watch; it was 2:17 AM. There were still thirteen minutes until the agreed-upon transaction time.

Ryunosuke is never early or late; he likes to control every second precisely.

This was a habit cultivated by the Snake Clan, and one of the secrets to his becoming a top assassin within the organization at the age of thirty.

Ryunosuke pulled a pack of Seven Stars cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, and lit it. The light from the lighter illuminated the thin scar below his left eye, a souvenir from a mission in Osaka three years ago.

He took a deep breath, his lungs filling with the salty, briny scent of nicotine mixed with the sea breeze. Smoke slowly escaped from his nostrils, like a snake about to shed its skin.

He habitually checked his equipment: two Beretta swords at his waist, the "Oni Maru" sword in its sheath, and six shuriken hidden in his sleeve.

Each weapon undergoes special treatment to ensure that no trace of the Snake Clan is left behind.

Ryunosuke closed his eyes and mentally reviewed the layout of the dock once again.

Pier 13 extends into the sea in a T-shape, with the main pier about 80 meters long and six abandoned warehouses on both sides.

He chose to conduct the transaction in front of the third warehouse, where the view was open, there were no hiding places to ambush, and it was only 120 meters from the nearest road, with at least three escape routes.

His thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of his phone.

Ryunosuke pulled out his encrypted phone, and a message from "Tachibana" appeared on the screen: "Target confirmed to be alone. Execute Plan B if necessary."

Plan B: Leave no survivors.

Ryunosuke's lips curled up slightly, revealing a cold smile.

He likes Plan B; it's simple, straightforward, and has no future problems.

He put his phone back on silent mode and checked his surroundings one last time:

There was a surveillance camera 30 meters to the northeast, its system hacked beforehand, which would loop through footage from the past hour. A black Toyota was parked 50 meters to the west, its engine still running; it was his escape vehicle. There were no suspicious vessels on the sea, only a few fishing boats drifting in the distance.

Time is up.

Ryunosuke stubbed out his cigarette and put the butt into a specially made sealed bag.

He strode towards the agreed meeting place, his leather shoes making no sound as they trod on the wet cement.

Twenty years of training have enabled him to move like a shadow, remaining undetected even in the quietest environments.

A tall man was already standing in the open space in front of the third warehouse. He was wearing a long black trench coat similar to Ryunosuke's, but the cut was clearly European in style.

The man had his back to the dock entrance, seemingly admiring the distant sea view.

"Polar bear?" Ryunosuke stopped five meters away from the other party, his right hand hanging naturally at his sides, ready to draw his gun at any moment.

The tall man slowly turned around.

Even in the dim light, Ryunosuke could tell that this was a Westerner.

Pale skin, deep-set eyes, and short, blond hair.

"Mr. Kiryu, your punctuality is admirable." The polar bear's Japanese was almost accent-free, with only a slight rolled "r" revealing his Slavic heritage.

Did you bring the items?

The polar bear chuckled and pulled a brown paper envelope, about one centimeter thick, from its inner pocket.

"All the top-secret 'Nibelungen Project' data from Kassel College. Including blood sample analysis, gene sequences, and alchemical matrix design diagrams." He shook the envelope. "Your Snake Clan spent a lot of money on this."

“Verification,” Ryunosuke said briefly, while slightly turning his body to ensure that his firing line was not blocked.

The polar bear shrugged and pulled three pages of documents from the envelope.

By the faint light of the distant lighthouse, Ryunosuke saw the gold-embossed emblem of Kassel College and the red seal with the word "Top Secret".

"Are you satisfied now?" the polar bear asked, cautiously surveying its surroundings. "This place doesn't feel very safe to me."

Ryunosuke nodded, took out a black metal box from inside his trench coat, and pressed the fingerprint lock to open it.

Twenty gold bars were neatly stacked inside. "Five million US dollars, as agreed."

The polar bear paused when he saw the gold. He reached out to take the box, but Ryunosuke closed the lid.

“All the data,” Ryunosuke’s voice was as cold as ice.

The polar bear hesitated for a moment, then sighed and handed over the entire envelope.

Ryunosuke took it with one hand and quickly flipped through a few pages.

The technical terms and charts on the documents were not unfamiliar to him; the Snake-Headed Eight Family spent three months training him to identify the authenticity of these materials.

The signature marked in red ink on the last page is particularly important: Angers, rector of the College of Kassel.

The transaction should have ended there; according to normal procedure, both parties would have retreated and disappeared into the night. But Ryunosuke received instructions for Plan B.

Just as the polar bear lowered its head to inspect the gold, Ryunosuke had already completed a series of actions: drawing his gun, loading it, and aiming.

The silencer made the gunshot sound as faint as a book falling.

The first bullet pierced the polar bear's forehead with pinpoint accuracy.

Before the Westerners could even change their expressions from greed to surprise, their bodies had already fallen backward.

Ryunosuke stepped forward, caught the metal box that was about to hit the ground with his left hand, and fired two more shots, one to the heart and one to the throat.

The polar bear's carcass lay heavily on the damp concrete, its blood quickly spreading in the rain, like a blooming dark red flower.

Ryunosuke crouched down and quickly searched the body. In addition to a wallet, cell phone, and a Glock pistol, he found a miniature transmitter hidden in the polar bear's heel.

"As expected," Ryunosuke sneered.

He threw the transmitter into the sea and then began to clean up the scene.

The first step is to use a special spray to remove any fingerprints and DNA traces that may have been left behind.

Next, place the polar bear's cell phone and wallet into a prepared lead container, which will block any possible remote signals.

Finally, he took a small bottle of clear liquid from his trench coat pocket and poured it on the corpse's face and hands.

Seconds later, the polar bear's fingerprints and facial features were corroded beyond recognition.

Ryunosuke found a piece of scrap metal and some ropes at the nearest warehouse.

He skillfully tied the body to the iron plate and then pushed it toward the edge of the dock.

The body barely splashed when it entered the water, and the weight of the iron plate ensured that it sank to the deepest part of Tokyo Bay's silt and would not be discovered for at least six months.

The entire cleaning process took only ten minutes.

Ryunosuke looked around one last time to make sure he hadn't missed any evidence, then walked toward the black Toyota.

Before getting into the car, he took off his blood-stained gloves and threw them, along with the lead container, into the prepared acid tank.

The engine emitted a deep roar as the car slowly drove away from Pier 13.

Ryunosuke turned on the windshield wipers, and the rainwater drew two fan-shaped streaks on the windshield.

He glanced at the manila envelope on the passenger seat and reached out to press the shortcut key on the car phone.

"Mission accomplished," he said, and then hung up.

Toyota blends into the Tokyo traffic in the early morning, like a drop of water flowing into the ocean.

In the rearview mirror, the outline of Pier 13 gradually blurred, eventually being completely swallowed up by the rain and the night.

Ryunosuke turned on the air conditioner to let the cold air dissipate the bloody smell inside the car.

He pondered the contents of the envelope, wondering why the Snake Clan would go to such lengths, even murder, to obtain the secrets of Kassel College.

What exactly is this so-called "Nibelungen Project"?

But these are not issues he needs to worry about.

As the sharpest weapon of the Snake Clan, he only needs to execute his missions perfectly, without asking why.

Ryunosuke turned on the radio, and the melodious strains of classical music filled the carriage.

He adjusted his rearview mirror to make sure no vehicles were following him, then stepped on the gas and drove toward downtown Tokyo.

I stopped at the red light. The rain had lessened, and a faint light was appearing in the eastern sky. A new day was about to begin.

For most people, it was just another ordinary Friday.

But for Kassel College, their most dangerous secret has fallen into the hands of the Japanese mafia.

Chapter 122 Genjiro (Part 1)

Xinzhuang County in the drizzle resembles a traditional Chinese ink painting blurred by water.

Yuan Zhisheng stood on the dilapidated platform of Xinzhuang Station, turning up the collar of his long black trench coat to shield himself from the chill of early spring.

He looked up at the gray sky, rain streaming down his cheeks like silent tears.