Dragon Clan: My Dad is Ange

Caesar suddenly turned sideways, and the bullet grazed his nose. Bailey rolled into the bunker and "killed" the ambushing Lionheart member with two bursts of fire.

Without even turning around, Caesar tossed a black card: "Two hundred thousand. Well played."

On the distant bell tower, Flamel watched this scene through the sniper scope.

"What a crazy student..." He muttered, but couldn't help but smile.

In the crosshairs, Caesar was kneeling on one knee bandaging an injured enemy member - even though it was only a scratch.

"But he's a pretty good leader, isn't he, Ange?"

Ange stood by and smiled. He nodded affirmatively: "This is indeed a good student. He will become a sharp sword to slay dragons in the future."

At the same time, the Lionheart Society fell into unprecedented chaos.

Ryan was lured into the atrium fountain area by three teams, and a liquid nitrogen bomb suddenly exploded, instantly turning the entire area into an ice rink.

The Lionheart members who were good at close combat were thrown to the ground, while the sharpshooters of the Student Union stood on the commanding heights and "harvested" leisurely.

"That's not fair!"

A Lionheart reborn pounded the wall angrily, "They don't understand the glory of battle at all!"

"Shut up."

Ryan wiped the ice from his face. "In war, there's only victory and defeat, not fairness."

At exactly nine o'clock, Caesar walked towards the Lionheart Society headquarters along the road paved with rose petals.

He was followed by scarred but high-spirited members of the student union, some of whom even sang Italian folk songs.

In front of the building, Beowulf Selina stood alone, sword in hand, her white hair a stark contrast to her dark green school uniform. Her golden eyes, now unextinguishable, shone brightly, like a burning flame.

In her hands she holds a spear and a short sword, these two weapons are symbols of Beowulf and the source of her power.

If she joined the battlefield at this moment, with her strength, she would be able to lead the Lionheart Society to victory again, even if the enemy was the young master of the Gattuso family.

But she still didn't choose to make a move. She was looking forward to the performance of the so-called S-level student, the rising star who caused an uproar on the forum - Ye Fan.

"Where on earth are you?"

Beowulf Selina whispered softly, her voice drowned out by the wind, and no one heard her question.

"Surrender, Selina." Caesar tossed the blood-stained scarf to his attendant. "Your companions have performed bravely, but the game is over."

Selina's golden eyes flickered slightly.

She noticed the wound on Caesar's left arm - it was left by the last sniper of the Lionheart Society when he broke through the last line of defense.

The sniper is currently being carefully cared for by the Student Union's medical team.

"Fifty million dollars," Caesar said suddenly. "Annual salary. How about becoming my deputy in the student union?"

The wind blew across the space between them, picking up a few dead leaves.

The students watching the game held their breath, and some of them had already started calculating how many sets of alchemical equipment they could buy with this money.

Selina smiled.

She took off the Lionheart badge from her chest and gently placed it on the steps. "Young Master Gattuso, do you think money can buy everything?"

"Of course not."

Caesar stepped forward, the sunlight gilding his figure. "But it can buy the best fighters in the world—like those smart guys behind you who are considering a transfer."

There was an uproar at the scene.

Indeed, many Lionheart members showed signs of hesitation. Selina shook her head and turned towards the door. "You win, but don't get too cocky."

Her voice suddenly dropped. "That S-rank hasn't appeared yet."

"As for that S-class guy, I was looking forward to fighting him, but his performance was a little disappointing..."

Caesar shook his head helplessly and sighed:

"I thought there would be a battle scene between him and me today, and I wanted to experience the power of the S-rank, but he really disappointed me. He didn't even come to the battlefield. This is definitely not the performance of a dragon slayer!"

"Next, I will invite him to join the student council and train him to become a true dragon slayer!"

Beowulf Selina looked at Caesar, there was no anger or unwillingness in her eyes, only calmness and composure.

If you lose, you lose. There's nothing to argue about.

"I lost, but this does not mean the failure of the Lionheart Society." Beowulf Selina's voice was cold and firm. "The glory of the Lionheart Society will be passed on by the new generation of members."

After saying this, she turned around and slowly walked into the building. Her back looked lonely and determined.

Elsewhere in the academy, Ange was staying in the attic of Vice-President Flamel.

Flamel sat in a rocking chair, holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand and rocking slowly.

"It seems that the S-class student you're concerned about hasn't even appeared yet."

Flamel raised his head and looked at Ange with a hint of ridicule in his eyes.

Ange put on an elegant smile, which was mysterious and confident, making it hard to understand.

"Indeed, at least for that minute, he was not here."

Flamel raised an eyebrow, not understanding Ange's meaning. Even if a minute passed and the other party arrived, what would happen? The battle was nearing its end, and the outcome seemed to be decided.

But Ange touched his chest, his heart beating rapidly, as if responding to something. He could feel the rapid approach of the person connected by blood.

"Just wait and see, this battle is not over yet."

Ange's voice was low and powerful, making his smile look even more amiable.

Chapter 115: Alone, defeat the Student Council and then the Lionheart Society!

The roar of a motorcycle engine ripped through the tranquility of the campus. Everyone looked up to see a streak of black lightning streaking along the spire of the Gothic building.

It was a Harley-Davidson, and the rider had flying black hair and dark golden pupils that looked like molten gold in the sunlight.

At the moment when the motorcycle wheel and the gargoyle sculpture rubbed against each other, he uttered the dragon script:

"Sword control."

A bronze halo enveloped the vehicle's body, and the entire Harley seemed to be lifted up by an invisible hand, continuing to accelerate on the ninety-degree vertical wall.

Frigga's bullets exploded into red mist behind him, but they didn't even touch the corners of his clothes.

"Is that... wall-walking?"

The voice of the student union sniper changed tone on the communication channel.

Caesar narrowed his icy blue eyes.

The sunlight reflected off the motorcycle in rainbow colors, reminding him of the chariot of the sun god in Sicilian legend.

When Ye Fan jumped down from the 30-meter-high bell tower, he subconsciously clenched Dick Tudo - the last time he did this was when he was facing the third generation.

The moment the motorcycle crashed into the fountain, Ye Fan had already flipped in the air.

The water exploded into a circular curtain at his feet, but landed as lightly as a feather. Droplets of water rolled down his jawline, paused briefly at his collarbone, and finally sank into his sweat-soaked collar.

"Next."

Ye Fan flicked his wrist, and the bronze sword "Blood Drink" was already in his hand:

"I take over this battlefield."

Two hundred student union members were collectively speechless.

They had just defeated the Lionheart Society with great ease, but now they were like a flock of sheep being targeted by a wild beast.

It was unknown who pulled the trigger first, but in an instant hundreds of Frigga bullets formed a scarlet rain.

"stop!"

Caesar's shout was a little too late.

The bullet suddenly stopped half a meter in front of Ye Fan, as if it had hit an invisible barrier.

The corners of his mouth curled up dangerously, his golden eyes blazing so brightly that it was impossible to look directly at them. "Is this the welcome ceremony?"

Caesar pushed through the crowd and approached, his long platinum-blond hair gleaming like a battle flag in the smoke. Every step he took was as precise as if measured with a ruler, and the tip of Dick Tudor's knife drew tiny sparks on the ground.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time, S-Class."

His voice was like the lowest string of a cello. "Now, in the name of Caesar Gattuso, I invite you to fight me."

"In this battle, I will prove to the world the shallowness of the theory of bloodline!"

Looking at the high-spirited Caesar, Ye Fan nodded calmly, accepting the invitation.

The sword suddenly rises!

Caesar's charge was so fast that it left an afterimage, and Dick Tuduo drew a perfect semicircle in the air. This attack had cut through the scales of three generations of dragons, but now it stopped three inches in front of Ye Fan's throat.

Two fingers gripped the blade.

Caesar's pupils contracted violently.

He felt the vibrations of the blade. It wasn't the strength of human muscle, more like steel bars being clamped in place by hydraulic clamps. Ye Fan's fingertips glowed bronze, and the shimmer of the "Sword Control" spell spread along the blade.

"Although I don't support the theory of bloodline, I have to admit that it does have some use at this stage."

Ye Fan chuckled and suddenly twisted his waist and shoulders.

Caesar reacted in a microsecond—the blade flipped, meeting the attack with its widest side.

He had practiced this defensive posture thousands of times, and even Principal Angers praised its perfection. But when Ye Fan's fist hit the blade, he heard the sound of his bones breaking.

First, the base of the thumb cracked, and then the wrist bones groaned under the heavy burden.

The shockwave traveled up the arm bone, and the shoulder blade felt like it was hit by a battering ram.

The moment Caesar flew backwards, the only thing left in his mind was shock: the speed of his punch exceeded the speed of sound, and the impact force was comparable to that of a high-speed train collision. Is this guy really a half-blood?

As the wall collapsed behind him, Caesar finally understood the fear of the dragons in the video.

Before the darkness swallowed his consciousness, he vaguely saw Ye Fan retracting his fist - so casually, just like slapping a mosquito away.

"President!"

Bailey's scream ignited the powder keg.