Parsi withdrew to the door. Suddenly, Frost frowned. “Wait a moment. You haven’t looked me in the eyes all day. Why?”
Parsi hesitated briefly before silently lifting his golden, silky hair. His eyes were revealed—one ice blue, the other dark gold. Regardless of how beautiful these two colors might be separately, seeing them on one face was startling, as if staring into the eyes of a demon.
Frost looked away. “Have you taken your medication?”
“Medication doesn’t help. It just makes me feel a bit better.”
“Take it anyway. Those who don’t have long to live should especially take care of themselves,” Frost said, his voice softening, full of elder-like concern.
“Thank you.” Parsi turned and left.
Chu Zihang opened his eyes to see a silver tray with a perfectly intact pear. An elderly, emaciated hand picked up the stem, and a delicate spiral of pear skin fell gracefully, the peeled pear handed to him.
“Principal?” Chu Zihang was surprised.
The hospital room was quiet. The doctors and nurses who bustled through daily had all disappeared. Anjou sat at the bedside, slowly wiping pear juice off his folding knife with a handkerchief before putting it away in the leather sheath inside his shirt sleeve.
“How long have you been able to use that technique?” Anjou asked softly, staring straight into Chu Zihang’s eyes. “Don’t try to hide it. I was a founding member of the Lionheart Society. I know the technique you used. You showed signs of ‘dragonification’ on that roller coaster track—something an ordinary hybrid can’t do. You used your will to highly purify your bloodline, multiply the power of your Yanling, expand your domain, and even manifest draconic traits on your body!”
“Two years,” Chu Zihang answered.
“That means shortly after becoming the president of the Lionheart Society, you mastered this technique.” Anjou nodded and began pacing the hospital room. “You must have inferred this technique from the original Lionheart Society archives, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Incredible,” Anjou sighed. “The secret records of the Lionheart Society have accumulated since its founding—back then, there wasn’t even a library, so some records aren’t in the archives. But even those weren’t complete. As a founding member, I took the most crucial part—the information about ‘Blood Rage.’ And yet, you managed to recreate this forbidden technique from fragments. Impressive, I must admit. But do you understand why I took those records?”
“‘Blood Rage’ induces intense aggression, also known as ‘killing intent.’”
“Yes, so-called ‘killing intent’ is a unique mental power of the Dragon Raja. Biologically, it’s similar to how beasts get excited by the smell of blood—a genetically determined ‘bloodthirsty gene.’ Dragons, when enraged, have the impulse to attack all targets. After a Blood Rage, a hybrid’s killing intent also rises. A gentle person might become as savage as a beast. But that’s not the reason ‘Blood Rage’ is a forbidden technique.”
Chu Zihang nodded. “I’m listening.”
Anjou was silent for a long time. “In fact, in the curriculum here at the college, the origins of hybrids are deliberately omitted. Some things are too filthy to talk about, others too close to taboo to reveal. But perhaps I can tell you—you’ve already stepped into forbidden territory.” He sighed deeply. “Hybrids were never meant to exist. The Dragon Raja would never deign to mix blood with humans, just as humans don’t interbreed with other primates. No one would want to try reproducing with a gorilla, even in a test tube, as that would challenge moral boundaries. But hybrids appeared anyway. We were forcefully created… out of human greed.”
“Due to a unique incident, humanity managed to kill the Black Emperor and took the world from the Dragon Raja. At that time, they should have buried the dragons completely to avoid any revenge. But some couldn’t bring themselves to destroy the dragons. Dragons are incredibly powerful and beautiful beings, possessing both ‘alchemy’ and ‘Yanling’ techniques. Humans coveted this power, continuously studying the remaining dragons. Under the guise of offerings to the gods, they forced human women to give birth to hybrid offspring with dragons, creating what we now call ‘hybrids.’ It was a cruel and barbaric ritual,” Anjou said quietly. “The women offered to the dragons rarely survived childbirth because their bodies were too fragile, while the children they carried were too powerful. They would struggle in pain within iron-barred cages, in dark dungeons, or bound on stone-carved altars, bleeding and unable to deliver. Eventually, the mothers, acting as vessels, would be broken by the beings inside them. The offspring that were gentle were nurtured, while those deemed dangerous were killed by spears thrust into their cages. The process of breeding continued for generations until the bloodline stabilized. This is the filthy history of hybrids.”
Chu Zihang closed his eyes slightly, seemingly able to see the deep-colored stone walls stained with an even deeper red. Flickering torches, the cries of women, and the roars of monsters echoed through the depths of ancient dungeons while priests chanted hymns.
The history was indeed filthy enough to make one sick.
“Each of you carries the concept that ‘hybrids’ must have a human blood ratio greater than that of the Dragon Raja, otherwise they are considered aberrant. Generally, the higher the dragon blood ratio, the more advantageous the bloodline becomes, but once you exceed a certain threshold—what we call the ‘critical blood limit’—everything changes. Dragon genes are powerful enough to modify the genes of other species. When a hybrid surpasses the critical blood limit, their human genes will be forcibly rewritten by dragon genes, and they will undergo ‘evolution,’” Anjou explained.
“Evolution?” Chu Zihang asked.
“Evolution into a dragon, a higher form of being.”
“Hybrids can evolve into full-fledged dragons?”
Anjou shook his head. “No, they can get infinitely close to being a dragon… but they can never reach that final state.”
“Why not?”
“Because of the backlash from human genes.” Anjou picked up a dry, hardened breadcrumb from the tray and crushed it between his fingers, the fragments floating down to the tray. “In the face of dragon genes, human genes are so weak that they are hardly worth mentioning. Dragon genes overpower human genes, as easily as a steamroller crushing gravel into dust. But imagine if you kept rolling the steamroller over that dust…” He turned his hand to show Chu Zihang his fingertips, where a few small crumbs remained. Anjou pressed on the crumbs again, using several times the force, then turned his hand again. The crumbs were still there.
“Once something is turned to dust, you can’t completely erase it—turn it to zero,” Anjou said softly.
Chu Zihang blinked. “Human genes can’t be completely rewritten!”