Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 72: Beware of Senior (6)

Dragon Raja 2

“Is there any way to measure the gene ratio in a lab?” Manstein asked.

“No, we can only rely on analyzing their behavior. That’s why you understand why the School Board spent such a high price to steal this file and why they gave this recovery mission such a high priority. Among the students investigated in the Nibelungen Plan, Lu Mingfei, Chen Motong, and very likely Chu Zihang—they all come from China.”

“They’re investigating their family history,” Manstein said quietly.

“There’s no way Mingfei could be a problem. How could he be dangerous? He’s just a complete coward!” Guderian stammered.

“Didn’t you always say your student is full of potential?” Manstein pushed him aside and looked at Schneider. “If the School Board thinks their bloodline is dangerous… what’s the result?”

“You know the School Board’s style as well as I do,” Schneider paused his work, looking up at Manstein, his iron-gray eyes filled with a chilling coldness.

Manstein took a deep breath. “The iron fist policy… cleansing.”

“K-kill them?” Guderian’s voice trembled. “Is that really necessary? Why not buy a small island in the Pacific, build a villa, and send them there? We could regularly send supplies.”

“Lifetime vacation in the Hawaiian Islands? If it were that nice, I’d want a dangerous bloodline too,” Manstein said with a bitter smile. “Do you really think the School Board are philanthropists?”

“They won’t kill, but historically, they’ve used ‘lobotomy’ to cleanse those with dangerous bloodlines,” Schneider said.

“What do you mean? I haven’t studied neurology,” Guderian was taken aback.

Schneider hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to bring up this part of history, but the Secret Party had existed for thousands of years—from the ancient times of blood sacrifices, through the darkness of the Middle Ages, to the radical industrial era, and finally into modern society. Their history couldn’t always align with current moral standards.

“A type of neurosurgery. The inventor was António Egas Moniz, a Portuguese physician. When he studied the skulls of ancient Egyptians, he found traces of holes in the skulls and believed it was evidence of neurosurgery used to treat epilepsy. He developed his own theory, believing that lobotomy could treat a variety of mental illnesses, including depression, mania, anxiety, and paranoia. Between the 1930s and 1950s, this surgery was performed tens of thousands of times around the world. After surgery, patients did indeed become more docile and easier to control, but they often ended up like fools, sitting blankly somewhere and mumbling to themselves. For this, he won the Nobel Prize in Medicine,” Manstein said. “This was one of the most absurd Nobel Prizes in history, because the doctor completely misunderstood the purpose of the surgery performed by the Egyptians. During the reign of the Egyptian pharaohs, this surgery was used to control hybrids—after the lobotomy, the most crucial ‘mental resonance’ of the dragon bloodline was severed.”

“The Council of Elders knows the effect of this surgery, so they send the suspected hybrids to mental hospitals…” Schneider said, “They even spent money promoting the effectiveness of the surgery worldwide.”

“Damn…” Guderian muttered.

“Now, you should understand that some people in the college are suspected of being dangerous, and we are the mentors of those students. If something happens to them, we’ll also have to bear some consequences, so we need to take action.” Schneider lit a match, setting the film containing information about Chu Zihang on fire. The acrid smoke rose as the film gradually melted away in the ashtray.

“Let me borrow the match,” Guderian said.

“Don’t bother; there’s nothing about Lu Mingfei in the film. The Execution Bureau has checked his background—it’s unremarkable. His first eighteen years were so normal it makes one wonder if he even has the bloodline or if it was a mistake that he was admitted at all,” Schneider shrugged.

“Every genius is different!” Guderian breathed a sigh of relief.

The sound of another match striking was heard, and the two men turned their heads, seeing Manstein expressionlessly setting another film alight.

“Director of the Disciplinary Committee, this isn’t like you at all,” Schneider said with a cold smile. “Aren’t you the one who values school rules and the School Board’s orders the most?”

Manstein didn’t respond, coldly watching as the film turned to ashes in the ashtray.

Guderian suddenly understood. “Is it because of her mother? You had a crush on her mother back then, didn’t you? You’re truly a man of emotions and loyalty.” He seemed as if he’d discovered a new continent and used a recently learned phrase.

“Damn it! That’s not it!” Manstein almost wanted to smash the ashtray in his face.

Schneider quickly gathered the remaining films, stuffed them back into the aluminum box, took out a new lock he had prepared, and snapped it shut with a click. He exhaled deeply, looking at Guderian and Manstein. “Alright, it’s done. Now we’re accomplices. We should have a drink together.”

“Hold on! You’ve destroyed a sealed bag with the School Board’s seal—it’s too obvious!” Manstein hissed.

“It’s simple. Since the Hunters stole these documents, they must have taken part of the contents,” Schneider said confidently. “That’s exactly what happened. It’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Why would some low-purity bloodline hunters get involved in our affairs? If someone secretly hired them, why would they open these documents? They’re just mercenaries earning a little money,” Manstein frowned. “There’s no reason for them to do that.”

“They’re bad guys,” Schneider shrugged. “Bad people can do anything—they don’t need a reason.”

“Your logic is just as simple and crude as the Execution Bureau’s methods…” Manstein muttered.

At that moment, there was a gentle knock on the door. The three men exchanged glances quickly. Schneider sprang up, grabbed the ashtray, and threw it into the wastepaper basket, then poured a can of Coke over it. Guderian threw a thick dictionary on top, smothering the thin plume of smoke. Manstein quickly moved his facial muscles, regaining his usual stern and upright demeanor as head of the Disciplinary Committee. He walked over to open the door, where a young man stood smiling. His long golden hair covered half of his face, giving him an unusually delicate appearance.

He extended his hand. “Hello, Professor Manstein? I’m Parsi, the secretary of the School Board. I’ve been sent to retrieve a box.”

He glanced inside the central control room. On the long table was an aluminum box. Professor Schneider of the Execution Bureau stood there looking stern and cold, while Professor Guderian seemed quite pleased to see him, waving cheerfully, “Hi!”

“Damn! Do you really need to whistle to show you have nothing to hide?” Manstein cursed inwardly.