“Alright, Mr. Mystic,” Anjou said, spreading his hands, “so, has there been any mention in the records about how to open the ‘Land of the Dead’?”
“Die…”
“Nonsense! I mean, go there while alive!” Anjou rubbed his forehead.
“I’ve told you, alchemists throughout history have tried to enter alive but never succeeded… Now they’ve all gone, but only because they’re all dead.”
“But Chu Zihang entered.”
“It seemed like he didn’t know the truth, just stumbled in by accident.”
“But it’s our only clue so far.”
The Watchman was silent for a moment. “Yes, someone who’s been there might be able to find the old path again. Like a medium, standing between day and night, able to bridge different worlds. Those who can enter Nibelungen are chosen by the dragons.”
The rain grew heavier, raindrops densely pelting the glass. Anjou turned his head to look out the window. The Watchman watched his long-time partner sitting in the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, back straight, his silhouette lean and firm. Despite only wearing a suit, Anjou exuded the aura of an armored samurai. Every time he gave off this sort of energy, it came from a strong urge to conquer.
“If you truly find an entrance to Nibelungen, what will you do?”
“Trap the dragons inside their temples and place a nuke in each one, detonating them all at once. I’ll sit on that pillar where the White King was nailed, watching the reptilian world end, as fire rains down from the sky like rain.” Anjou spoke indifferently. “Thinking about it, it’s rather beautiful.”
“Too avant-garde,” the Watchman marveled. “But it’s very much your style.”
“You know me best, which is why I came to you with this recording to have a drink and celebrate.” Anjou raised his glass. “But I have a minor issue—I need you to help me, just to make sure I live long enough to find Nibelungen.”
“Speaking of which, my dinner was way too greasy today… Suddenly my stomach is killing me…” The Watchman clutched his stomach.
“Can’t you come up with a more professional excuse?”
The Watchman made a face. “You’d think I’m making excuses anyway, no matter what I say… Fine, what do you need? Every time you ask for my help, it’s always a life-threatening matter.”
“I just got word that next week a School Board investigation team will arrive at the college. They’re probably planning to fire me as principal,” Anjou said nonchalantly.
“Wait, wait, wait! Fire you?” The Watchman was stunned.
“Yes, I’ve been accused of three major mistakes and forty-eight minor errors. The School Board is seriously dissatisfied with my report, and they doubt I’m still capable of staying on as principal.”
“Don’t joke around. If they fire you, who’s going to replace you? Frost Gattuso? That’s a joke… He’s already balding and doesn’t have half your looks.”
“Stay on topic,” Anjou said. “It seems sudden, but we were already debating at the School Board’s annual meeting a few weeks ago. Back then, I was just as confident as you—they wouldn’t find anyone to replace me. But now, it looks like they can’t wait.”
“What’s the trigger?”
“The Six Flags incident—Chu Zihang released ‘King’s Blaze’ in public, instantly melting steel. This has far exceeded the normal range of a Yanling. The School Board suspects that his bloodline is dangerous, and bringing a dangerous bloodline into the college is the biggest dereliction of duty. Confirming this alone would be enough to fire me. Besides, in the ‘Nibelungen Plan,’ Chu Zihang is under investigation. The report from China mentioned an incident of entering the Land of the Dead. The matter is highly suspicious—anyone can see it’s connected to the Dragon Raja, and definitely not an ordinary dragon. Chu Zihang was involved and came back alive. This will also make people question his bloodline.”
“The School Board knows about Nibelungen?” The Watchman frowned.
“No, they probably haven’t made that connection yet. But if they take Chu Zihang, they have the ability to hypnotize him, just as I did, and get the full story out of him.”
“That might not be such a bad thing. Maybe if the School Board learns how to enter Nibelungen, they’ll sponsor a few nukes for you to go blow it up. Of course, it’d be best if they let you blow yourself up too—I can imagine how much they dislike you,” the Watchman said. “That way, you, the vengeful maniac, would get your wish, and the School Board would regain power. Everyone would be happy.”
“Would you be happy too?” Anjou sipped his wine as he walked to the window, looking at the rain-washed statues atop Valhalla.
“As an old friend, I’d attend your funeral and make sure I don’t cause trouble.” The Watchman puffed out his chest.
“The members of the School Board can’t fight against the dragons. You know it, and I know it, though they remain unaware. They have no real understanding of how cruel war can be, yet they’re already brimming with confidence, believing that once the dragons are completely buried, they’ll hold power over the world,” Anjou said. “But the war is just beginning.”
The Watchman shrugged. “They’re politicians. Politicians always think about building a new world before the war even ends. It’s like when the U.S. and the Soviet Union were already planning how to divide power in Europe before they even captured Berlin.”
“But I’m a soldier. I only need to live until the war ends.” Anjou looked at the Watchman. “My friend, before the war ends, I still need your support.”
The Watchman sighed. “My friend, you’re getting old and are close to death. Why do you keep going?”
“You know why. Why ask again?”
The Watchman nodded. “You’re the undertaker, always dressed in black, carrying that folding knife in your sleeve. For a hundred years, every moment, you’ve thought about killing—not just killing, but slaughtering dragons. You’re a grudge-holder—if someone becomes your enemy, they’re as good as dead, unless they kill you first. I just don’t understand why you’re so stubborn.”
“What about you? Why have you stayed at Cassell College all these years? Don’t tell me you’re just here drinking beer and living out your retirement.” Anjou turned to look at the Watchman.
The Watchman scratched his head. “I won’t tell you… I don’t want to lie and make up an excuse.”
Anjou smiled. “Would you really be so honest? You used to tell women all kinds of sweet lies.”
“But you’re not a woman, so I can’t lie to you.”
“You seem like the kind of person who would die if you stopped making bad jokes.” Anjou picked up the umbrella he had brought and was about to leave—he had achieved his purpose for coming here.
“Hey, Anjou.” The Watchman called from behind him.
Anjou paused, but he didn’t speak or turn around.
“I don’t like those financiers and politicians in the School Board. They’re willing to sacrifice anyone for their interests—politicians inherently have no moral compass or bottom line. But at least they’re thinking about building something—a new age for hybrids, where they hold power. But you, you just want to bury the Dragon Raja… I believe you. If given the chance, you’d end the dragons with a mushroom cloud from a nuke. When fire rains down from the sky, you’d light a cigar and pour a glass of champagne to toast your old friends. Your whole life has been waiting for that moment of artistic destruction,” the Watchman said softly. “But Anjou, think about it. All you want is destruction. You don’t care about anything else. You’re already on a dead-end path. Who do you think you are? The goddess of vengeance?”
Anjou held the umbrella at the door, rain falling off its edges. He gazed at the iron-gray sky, as if lost in thought, his silhouette blurred and distant.
“You’re wrong,” Anjou said deeply. “I am the god of vengeance.”
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