Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 43: Sword Devil with Flaming Rage (4)

Dragon Raja 2

There was a slight intelligence gap. Norma hadn’t mentioned a hybrid in the security company with such abilities. Sequence 28 wasn’t especially high, but it was a Yanling that empowered allies—and the entire floor was filled with those allies.

In a blind spot of everyone’s field of view, a slender figure at the end of the corridor whispered softly, with a faint golden glow flowing in his eyes.

Behind Chu Zihang was the raging storm, and in front of him were hordes of security guards. Trapped in a narrow corridor, Chu Zihang did not retreat. The guards charged, bolstered by a surge of adrenaline doubling their strength. They leaped, stun batons crackling with high-voltage electricity. The static pierced the air, fine purple threads of electricity sparking between the batons.

The spectacle was impressive, but still not enough to threaten Chu Zihang. There was an inherent difference between hybrids and pure humans, regardless of how enhanced the latter became.

Chu Zihang leaped backward, dodging the guards’ strikes. He jumped out of the floor-to-ceiling window, into the storm, where there was still one final foothold—the suspension bridge. Using this foothold, he gained a few precious seconds to come up with a reasonable solution to this unexpected situation. Against these enhanced guards, he would need to fight more aggressively, but that would inevitably lead to injuries. Once the effect of the physical enhancement wore off, those injuries would remain.

Chu Zihang rubbed his fingers together; they felt especially damp. He had overlooked one odd thing— the humidity on the 21st floor was extraordinarily high. More precisely, the air was oversaturated with moisture. The air was faintly white, almost like fog. The high humidity had made the air conductive, which explained the electrical discharges between the guards’ batons. However, even during a storm, with central air conditioning, the indoor humidity shouldn’t be this high.

Oddly enough, the guards didn’t pursue him; they stopped simultaneously, forming a wall that blocked Chu Zihang’s way forward. For an instant, their faces all looked identical.

Chu Zihang shivered slightly, feeling a sense of déjà vu—surrounded by a group of identical, expressionless people.

Suddenly, he caught a familiar scent—the cold, stormy smell, but unique. He had only smelled it once before, on that elevated highway shrouded by water!

A car horn sounded below, and Chu Zihang looked down. On the empty eastern street, a rusted Maybach with its headlights on was slowly approaching Runda Building, Tower A.

A sense of fear exploded within Chu Zihang. The Maybach’s engine roared, ramming directly into the building’s side support column. The heavy car, combined with a speed of over 100 mph, had its front end torn in two by the impact. The entire building shook, the suspension bridge jolted, and the cables slipped off the gears, getting caught and twisted in the bearings before snapping. Chu Zihang lost his balance as the entire suspension bridge collapsed!

Chu Zihang suddenly understood why the guards hadn’t pursued him. Their goal had simply been to drive him into a deathtrap, and they had succeeded.

Italy, Portofino.

Among the swirling leaves, a silver Rolls-Royce ascended the winding mountain road and stopped beside the white building, right by the cliff, after entering Splendid Hotel.

It was a standalone building, with its exterior made of solid white marble, and small windows that gave it the appearance of a tiny fortress. The private parking lot was almost full—a Lamborghini, an old Jaguar, and an AMG-tuned Mercedes occupied the spaces. Surprisingly, along with these luxury cars, an orange mountain bike also occupied a full parking spot.

The chauffeur bent down, opened the car door, and shielded it with his hand to prevent his guest from accidentally bumping her head. A golden high-heeled shoe stepped out lightly, followed by a slender leg of breathtaking beauty. Unlike the impression left by the elegant high heels, a young girl emerged from the car—her features as delicate as those from a classical Greek statue. Though she looked about twenty, her gaze was that of someone in her thirties. She wore the makeup of an elegant European lady, donned a black veil, an expensive fitted suit, and a fur shoulder cape. Her tall heels made her walk with a graceful sway, but the coldness on her face gave her the commanding air of a queen.

“The sixth director and the last one—Elizabeth Laurent. She’s twenty-two years old. Her family is one of the largest syndicates in Europe, involved in mining and finance. After her father died in a plane crash, she had to leave the Royal college of Art to take over the family business,” explained the secretary named Parsi patiently, behind the blinds of a nearby hotel suite.

“She’s just a woman who thinks she’s very pretty,” Caesar said as he opened the blinds a crack and looked outside.

“Indeed. Her family is famous among hybrids for their beautiful offspring,” Parsi smiled.

“Hey! Lisa, my dear child, welcome, right on time.” An old man strode forward with open arms. “You’ve grown again. I still remember you in your school uniform at Eton.”

“Thank you, Anjou.” The girl hugged him and greeted him with a cheek kiss. “It’s been eight years since we last saw each other. You haven’t changed a bit; time seems to have stopped for you.”

“For an old man, the god of time has mercy, slowing time just a little bit,” the old man said, extending an arm gallantly.

The girl took his arm, walking up with him like an aging yet still handsome father introducing his beautiful daughter to society.

The Principal of Cassell College, Anjou.

“There should be one more director,” Caesar said.

“He never attends, and we don’t know his name,” Parsi replied.

“He spends vast amounts of money on the college every year but never attends the board meetings to exercise his rights. How extravagant.”

“The directors don’t invest in Cassell College for money. They are,” Parsi whispered, “the Secret Party of dragon-slaying families.”

A secret organization that had survived thousands of years, the elite hybrid army that had raised countless brave warriors, bound by the iron rules of the “Dragon Blood Secret Party”—its modern structure turned out to be the board of a college.

“They are also the current Council of Elders, right?” Caesar asked.

“Yes, the board of directors is synonymous with the Council of Elders. The directors are the highest rank among hybrids, the true holders of power, and Principal Anjou is merely their appointed executor.”

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