Dragon Clan: My Dad is Ange

On the second tier of the makeup box sat a rouge case, authentic Kyoto "Suzaku Red." Sakurai Kogure dipped a small amount with her ring finger and gently blended it around the corners of Genji's eyes.

The red color was very light at first, but gradually became stronger, like blood splashing in the snow, or like the last rays of sunset solidified on the skin.

"The patriarch of the eight Snake families has been in frequent contact with people from Kassel recently..." Sakurai Kogure's voice lowered.

"Could it be that he wants to attack us?"

She took out a pure gold flower-embellished brush, dipped the tip of the brush in melted gold foil, and drew a double cherry blossom between the eyebrows of the young girl.

The gold foil made a subtle crisp sound as it cooled, like some insect shedding its old shell.

Genji grabbed her wrist. The mirror reflected their overlapping figures. His open eyes were filled with molten gold.

"Even if they wanted to attack us, what could they do? Not everyone is our Amaterasu, and they won't gain anything by clashing with us. Besides, Japan right now doesn't allow them to do whatever they want."

Sakurai Kogure's eyelashes trembled.

The man in front of her was still as handsome as ever. Just like when they first met, she felt his palm gently touching the skin on her wrist. Sakurai Kogure was even a little intoxicated by it.

But nothing is more important than putting on exquisite makeup for the man in front of you.

With a flick of her wrist, the gold pen deftly slipped into her sleeve, and she pulled out a box of pearl powder. "I simply feel that that S-rank is indeed somewhat unusual."

As the pearl powder was sprinkled on Genji's nose, the sound of taiko drums happened to be heard outside the window.

The nightly "Parade of a Hundred Ghosts" at the Paradise Hall has begun, and the exaggerated screams of tourists can be faintly heard.

Genji looked towards the source of the sound. A faint glow of pearl powder floated on his face, giving it a strange, inhuman quality—as if a Noh mask had suddenly been given life.

"After all, it's an S-level that only appears once every ten years at Kassel Academy. Although it's still weak, it must have its merits."

Sakurai Kogure paused, her technique skillful and elegant. In just over ten minutes, a set of exquisite flower princess makeup was completed.

The man picked up the bronze mirror and looked at his own appearance in the mirror.

The charm between her eyebrows and eyes, the unique flavor, are just like an oiran walking out of an ancient scroll. She is breathtakingly beautiful, enough to make all men in the world fall for her.

The man stood up, his sleeves fluttering. "Take me to meet the new S-class from Kassel Academy. I'm curious how close to my strength the so-called S-class is."

"Just right."

He let Sakurai Kogure tie up his long hair. "Let me see, it was the Dragon Slayer of Kassel who first saw through the illusion of Paradise Hall..."

Sakurai Kogure tucked the last strand of hair behind his ear, and the bronze mirror suddenly reflected an androgynous oiran.

Genji stroked the corners of her crimson eyes and finished the second half of her sentence:

"I'd rather let him become part of the illusion first."

Chapter 91: Night Parade of One Hundred Ghosts, Ye Fan is Devoured

After about half a cup of tea, the paper door slid open again.

Sakurai Kogure changed into a dark blue visiting suit, and the gold hairpin in her hair was replaced with a plain silver hairpin. Only the bronze ring on the little finger of her left hand still shone with a cold light.

Behind her followed a musician holding a shamisen, with the thin curtain of a black gauze hat covering her face.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." Sakurai Kogure knelt over to the low table. As his fingertips brushed the teapot, a puff of white steam suddenly escaped from the spout. "A lady wishes to dance for you."

The sound of the shamisen suddenly pierced the silence. The musician knelt at the intersection of moonlight and lamplight, his bare hands plucking the strings, reminiscent of the ghost messengers escorting the dead on Yomi Hirasaka.

As the first note trembled and sank into the darkness, all the candles in the pavilion dimmed by three points at the same time.

When the paper door opened for the third time, Ye Fan's pupils shrank slightly.

The figure standing at the junction of light and darkness makes people suspect that it is an oiran from an ancient painting.

He wore a dance costume made from twelve pieces of clothing, with a thin silk with a gold-threaded sparrow pattern over crimson hakama. With every step he took, the hem of his clothes rippled like light.

The most surprising thing is that face. It is not a gorgeous beauty, but has the unique elegance of a young man. However, the rouge has two crimson streaks at the corners of the eyes, like the red spider lily that suddenly blooms in the snow.

"My name is Kazama Ruri."

When he saluted, the crystal tassels hanging from the jade hairpin in his hair did not move at all, but his voice had a strange timbre, making it difficult to tell his gender.

"This dance is called 'Ran Hong'."

The shamisen's sound suddenly became rapid.

When the young girl Yuan turned around, her scarlet sleeves fluttered like waves of blood, and the golden sparrow patterns flickered in the light, as if hundreds of ghosts were parading at night.

His dancing posture combines the strength of a man with the tenderness of a woman. At a certain moment of leaping, Ye Fan saw his toes touching the edge of the mat without disturbing even a speck of dust.

As the dancer approached the low table, Ye Fan noticed the fine scales on his neck.

It's not the ugly keratin of Deadpool, but more like a carefully drawn tattoo, with the luster of mother-of-pearl as it breathes.

Yuan Zhinu suddenly leaned over, her hair scented with rose dew brushed across the back of Ye Fan's hand, and the dagger that slipped from her sleeve reflected a cold light on the teacup.

"What do you think, Mr. Ye?"

Sakurai Kogure's voice came from far away. Ye Fan realized that the dancer had already retreated to his original position, and only the lingering sound of the shamisen was still lingering on the beam.

Yuan Zhinu knelt in the moonlight, her sweaty hair sticking to her cheeks, like black camellias wet by the night dew.

"Kazama-kun's dance is beautiful, so beautiful that I don't know how to describe it." Ye Fan stroked the teacup with his fingertips, and the celadon reflected the candlelight floating in his eyes, as if there were stars flowing:

"If I had to use a vivid metaphor, it would be the seductive red spider lily on Yomi Hirasaka."

“Hahaha, Mr. Ye’s evaluation is very high, but this is indeed worthy of our master.”

Sakurai Kogure covered her lips and laughed softly, her dark blue cuffs slipped down, revealing the winding cinnabar snake pattern on her wrist.

But the smile suddenly froze - her cheeks cracked like a dry riverbed, and her skin peeled off inch by inch, revealing the true face of the evil ghost with blue and purple underneath.

The musician's black veil fluttered without wind, and a whimper like a baby's cry came from the python skin resonance box of the shamisen. The strings broke by themselves, and what splashed out was not blood, but dark resentment.

The pine and crane images on the twelve gold-leaf screens twisted and squirmed, the ink lines turning into centipede legs; the lacquerware on the low table cracked into scarlet vertical pupils; the strings of wisteria flowers hanging from the beams turned into pale arms, with rotten water dripping from the fingertips.

The entire room turned into a scorched earth in the blink of an eye, and only the moonlight within a three-foot radius where Yuan Zhinu was sitting remained clear, like a pure land in the divine realm.

Yuan Zhinu's gaze fell on Ye Fan. He looked at Ye Fan's calm expression with some confusion.

This is an illusion created by him as the emperor. It is an absolutely real illusion. The vision, smell, taste and touch are all consistent with reality.

He was sure that Ye Fan had never experienced a similar illusion, so why did the other party look so indifferent?

"Isn't Mr. Ye afraid?"

The voice of the Source Girl overlapped with the roar of a dragon, and deep down, it contained the majesty of an emperor.

The mandala in his golden eyes bloomed layer by layer, and each petal reflected a different image of hell:

"This is the realm where a hundred demons parade at night. Even an S-rank hybrid will be devoured by the demons, leaving only withered bones."

His words carried a heart-pounding sense of oppression, as if the whole world was under his control.

Ye Fan was still sitting upright, with a calm smile on his lips, as if the evil spirits around him were nothing but illusions.

Ye Fan lowered his eyes and looked at the bony claws clinging to his wrist - those pale knuckles were trying to pierce his blood vessels.

He suddenly smiled, and that smile reminded Yuan Zhinu of the flying Buddha in the Dunhuang murals, compassionate and transcendent.

"Mystique."

Ye Fan sighed softly, his voice ringing like an ancient bell.

The ghost hand clinging to him instantly turned to ashes.

"Your methods are not even as good as those who claim to be gods. Illusions are really boring. If they weren't useful, I wouldn't even bother to use them."

"I was originally looking forward to this meeting. I thought the Dragon King of the Ghosts would be an interesting character, but now it seems he is just an ignorant evil ghost who relies on the power of his superior bloodline."

As the words fell, the boundary between reality and illusion blurred at this moment.

In reality, a faint golden light emanated from the body of Genji, and Sakurai Kogure and the musicians knelt on the ground respectfully.

In reality, Ye Fan's pupils also burned with golden lava-like pupils as he stared at Yuan Zhinv across half the table.

That gaze was calm yet contained endless pressure, as if mocking the insignificance of everything before him.

In the illusion, Yuan Zhinu's face turned ugly.

"Mr. Ye probably won't be able to escape this illusion."

A sinister glint flashed in Yuan Zhinu's eyes:

"I can sense your powerful bloodline, but you can't break through my illusion. Aren't you worried that I'll trap you here forever when you say this?"

His voice became increasingly sinister, like a poisonous snake spitting out its tongue.

"Hahaha! You actually said you wanted to trap me in this fragile illusion?"

Ye Fan threw his head back and laughed loudly, shaking the evil spirits around him so much that they were a little unsteady:

"I wanted to play with you in this illusion. After all, although this illusion is good, it is still far inferior to the illusion of a certain devil. I want to experience it more so that I can weave better in the future."

"But I gave you face, and you don't seem to want it. Then don't ask for it. I will show you what it means to be an emperor!"

"Ignorant person!"

The source girl was furious, her body began to grow wildly, and the entire illusion changed into a dark sea of ​​blood.

The royal bloodline is the only connection between him and his brother. How could he allow the guy in front of him to insult him?

Although this place is an illusion, all the tactile sensations are real. He wants to let countless evil ghosts gnaw on Ye Fan's flesh and blood, letting him suffer the pain of being devoured by thousands of ghosts!

Countless evil spirits roared and pounced on Ye Fan. The darkness completely submerged him like a tide, as if to crush his soul.

Chapter 92 The Kneeling Dragon King

The entire illusionary space was plunged into darkness, with only the roars of countless evil spirits.

However, the next moment...

A dazzling golden light suddenly burst out from the dark abyss, like a divine spear that created the world, tearing through the endless darkness!

Thousands of golden lights burst out, as if they were the swords of judgment of billions of gods. Wherever they passed, evil spirits wailed and turned into ashes.

Yuan Zhinu only felt an unparalleled pressure coming down upon her, her knees went weak, and she fell heavily to the ground.

Hot tears of blood flowed from his golden eyes, and he was horrified to find that the illusion he had carefully woven was as fragile as thin paper in the face of this power.

"What an ignorant person you are! Let me judge you."