Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 191: Deadly Sword for Every Dragon King (3)

Dragon Raja 2

“Did you see them? How many?” Caesar finally let out a breath.

“Too many to count. Maybe twenty or thirty? Could be over a hundred—hard to say, not really the time for counting. No need to look for me—I’m in the only place you’d ignore: the fourth-floor ladies’ room. I’ve got them all locked in here.”

“Are you crazy?! You don’t have a Yanling!” Caesar shouted in shock.

“Why would I need a Yanling to kill chickens?” Nono replied coldly and hung up.

She spun forward, gripping a steel pipe in both hands, sweeping it fiercely across the room, smashing several of the Ji Ghost Birds that had lunged at her into bronze fragments. The ladies’ restroom had been locked from the inside by Nono, and all the Ji Ghost Birds that had chased her were now trapped inside. They perched on the sinks, on the tops of the stalls—some even hung upside-down from the ceiling with their claws. These bloodthirsty creatures were growling softly, watching the woman they had surrounded. She stood among the broken pieces, dressed in a bright red bridal outfit, her hair tied with a red ribbon, holding a pair of thick steel pipes in her hands. She looked as sharp as a blade, her beautiful eyes devoid of any warmth.

Nono slowly adjusted her breathing, recalling the “Niten Ichi-ryu” dual-sword technique taught by Toyama Masashi in her kendo black belt training. It wasn’t her primary combat skill, so her hands weren’t quite in sync yet.

But at this point, the Ji Ghost Birds were probably beginning to wonder who was the hunter and who was the prey.

Caesar was so worried that he’d forgotten his girlfriend, despite lacking a Yanling, was essentially just as much of a killing machine as Chu Zihang.

Parsi pulled down the shutter, sealing the entire building, turning to see Ling Fenglong rushing over, drenched in sweat.

“You should already be in Japan,” Parsi frowned.

“Not the time for that. I’m really surprised you can stay this calm,” Ling Fenglong panted. “Do you really think you can still control the situation?”

“The Dragon King’s awakening doesn’t necessarily mean the gates of Nibelungen will open. Opening the gates between life and death exceeds the power of the Four Monarchs. Even if things from Nibelungen occasionally cross over, we can still handle it.”

“Yes, that gate does not open easily. But it has been opened—during the Wang Gongchang Explosion! This place is the old site of Wang Gongchang! There is a crack in Nibelungen here! It’s already opening! No, the entire Nibelungen beneath Beijing is collapsing! This is the effect of ‘Shiva’s Tandava’; it was the same Yanling that caused the Wang Gongchang explosion!” Ling Fenglong spoke rapidly, his expression twisted with urgency.

Parsi’s face changed drastically. “The Dragon King wouldn’t easily use an apocalyptic-level Yanling!”

“In a state of rage, they have the urge to destroy everything. Don’t assume they have restraint,” Ling Fenglong growled. “It’s not just a few Kamaitachi accidentally entering here—it’s tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. They don’t want to be buried with Nibelungen; they’re fleeing! And you think you can stop them with a shutter door?”

“Reinforce all doors with steel plates! Blow up this building immediately!” Parsi reached for his phone.

“Use mine; someone wants to speak with you.” Ling Fenglong handed his phone to Parsi.

“Caesar is still in that building. I don’t care about the final outcome—Caesar must survive,” came Frost’s cold voice over the phone. “No matter the cost, even if the secret of the Dragon Raja is exposed. Caesar is the family’s painstakingly chosen heir. Without Caesar, there is no future for the family!” The call ended abruptly, giving Parsi no chance to respond.

Parsi stood silent for a few seconds, then handed the phone back to Ling Fenglong. “Then I will have to go in myself.” He took off his coat and tossed it on the ground. Beneath his white shirt, black straps were tightly secured, with black hunting knives pressed against his ribs—fully armed.

“All entrances must be sealed. No Kamaitachi can be allowed to escape,” Ling Fenglong said.

“My orders are only to ensure Caesar’s survival. Nothing else concerns me. If what you say is true, steel reinforcement won’t work. I don’t have enough manpower right now.”

“No! You do! And conveniently so!” Ling Fenglong pointed toward a group of people in the crowd—Emperors, all of them blond-haired, blue-eyed, or red-haired and green-eyed foreigners watching the commotion alongside the locals.

In North America, at a small airport on the outskirts of Chicago, a “Gulfstream” private jet was preparing for takeoff. The slight Henkel was curled up on a large single-seat sofa, looking solemn. His phone rang.

“Beijing is experiencing noticeable seismic activity. It might be the Dragon King awakening! And the Secret Party is casually mobilizing our people!” A young voice came through, urgent.

“The Dragon King awakening?” Henkel scoffed. “It’s far worse than you think. I don’t know how it got to this point.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be flying to China in five minutes. I just hope there’s still an intact airport in Beijing by the time I arrive.”

“What about the Secret Party mobilizing our people?”

“Let them. If mobilizing a few people can suppress this situation, let them do it. Remember one thing—any conflicts with the Secret Party can be negotiated, but there is no room for compromise between us and the Dragon Raja. Either they are annihilated, or we are—this war will not end until then.” Henkel said quietly, hanging up the phone.

He looked out the window into the dark night and sighed lightly. “Buried for thousands of years… the Dragon Raja is about to counterattack fully, and we can no longer stay out of it.”

The Emperor Team took control of the wedding center.

The Hybrid organizations in China demonstrated exceptional efficiency. Construction workers arrived quickly, sealing all exits with high-strength steel plates. The onlookers were surprised to see a group of robed Americans trapped inside the building.

Tang Sen faced the empty hall, stroking the decorative sleeve of his robe, recalling the leisurely days he had spent in Beijing over the past few days, and smiled silently. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but the family’s death order had been sent to everyone via text message. The breach of Nibelungen had to be held, and none of them could retreat. The seemingly indestructible steel plates behind them were just to block the view—what really defended this place were these men.

No retreat. Not one step back. If they fell, it meant they had died.

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