Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 51: Sword Devil with Flaming Rage (12)

Dragon Raja 2

“Thank God,” Guderian said, pressing his hand to his chest and sighing with relief.

Manstein was stunned. “What is he doing?”

“I don’t know,” Schneider replied.

Meanwhile, 18,000 kilometers away in China, Murasame left trails of fire as it slashed through the mist, leaving transparent cuts in the air, crisscrossing like a dangerous practice in calligraphy. Shadow after shadow lunged at him, only to be split into a thick splash of black ink by his blade, disintegrating into thousands of ink droplets in the mist. When the blade of Murasame was covered in dark blood, a layer of clear water droplets condensed on it, washing away the blackness. Chu Zihang paused for a moment, glancing around. He rested the blade on his left arm, the tip drooping slightly as blackened water slowly dripped from it. More shadows emerged from the fog. Chu Zihang no longer had time to tell whether they were real or an illusion, just like that typhoon so long ago when he was still a weak boy. Now he had dragon blood burning within him. There was no hesitation, no question of why or how; the storm of his blade once again slashed through the fog.

What are the enemies? Cut them down!

At that moment, the entire ground floor had transformed. Several maintenance workers were helping the guards evacuate panicked civilians, while others helped extinguish a fire—a ZIPPO lighter shop had collapsed from the shaking, and the fuel had caught fire. Faced with even stranger incidents, the guards had no time to worry about these American brutes; they seemed like nothing more than troublemakers looking for some fun.

“Is there anyone left on the 21st floor?” The maintenance head shouted at a guard, speaking fluent Chinese.

“No one is left! Everyone has evacuated to the 20th floor!” the guard shouted back. “We’ve checked everyone’s identity.”

The maintenance head shivered inexplicably. If the 21st floor had already been evacuated, who was keeping Chu Zihang there? Before communication was cut off, Chu Zihang’s suddenly accelerated breathing gave off an ominous feeling.

“But he’s never let me down; he will bring back what we need,” Schneider said, glancing at the clock. “He still has a little over two minutes; there’s still time.”

“Two minutes? According to the plan, he should already be in the descending elevator with the documents! There’s still time? The entire operation’s rhythm is completely disrupted! Call your student back!” Manstein was both shocked and furious—Schneider’s determination and coldness were entirely unexpected. Schneider’s actions were already against the Execution Bureau’s protocol, even though such protocols were designed to be broken. Manstein couldn’t understand Schneider’s confidence—it was as if everything was still within his control.

“I can’t call him back; I can’t contact him. The operation’s rhythm is disrupted, so let it be. He’s no longer following your plan,” Schneider said coldly.

“Off the plan?”

“I mean he’s still in action, just not on the path you planned. He will retrieve the documents independently. I told you—sending just him was enough. The team was there to hinder him, not to support him.”

“He… alone?” Manstein could hardly believe his ears. This was an “SS”-level mission. The entire plan had undergone repeated simulations by Norma, with all possible risks eliminated in advance, ultimately forming a nine-person team. Each member had their own responsibilities; they were nine components of a machine, working together in precision and operating at high speed. And now, one part was breaking away, trying to perform the entire machine’s function on its own. It was as absurd as a race car tire attempting to complete an entire rally alone, with the designer still applauding the tire for its courage!

“It’s not difficult for him. I just hope he doesn’t overdo it.” Schneider handed a prepared stack of documents to Manstein.

Manstein opened it in confusion and read a few paragraphs. His expression suddenly changed, and his pupils dilated, with a faint golden glimmer.

“These are his previous mission reports—the real versions. What you got from Norma was the edited version,” Schneider said calmly.

Manstein read just half a page before closing the file. He was silent for a few seconds, then took a deep breath. “Schneider… do you even know what your student really is?”

“I don’t, but he’s effective. Even though he’s still in his internship period, he’s the true ace agent of the Execution Bureau.”

“But you don’t trust him,” Manstein said, staring into Schneider’s eyes. “That’s why you planted a signal on him. Does he know?”

Schneider turned to look out the window. “He doesn’t know. It’s not a matter of trust. It’s like having a sharp knife—you always want to know where it is, just in case it accidentally cuts someone.”

“Where did you plant the signal?”

“He got a dental filling at the college’s medical department. The signal was implanted in his molar at that time, covered by a titanium crown, undetectable by X-rays.”

“Such an exceptional bloodline still gets cavities?” Guderian remarked.

“I was actually a little relieved when I found out he had cavities,” Schneider said wistfully. “It made him seem more human. Humans are supposed to be flawed; they get sick, they feel pain, they get scared. It’s not perfect, but it’s more real.”

“So what should we do now? Just wait? Three duty professors overseeing an operation, and all we can do is wait from thousands of kilometers away for your prized student to give us a satisfactory outcome?” Manstein’s brows furrowed deeply.

“There’s still ninety-five seconds left. He’ll make it—he always does,” Schneider replied.

“Listen up, Dad, I have… Do you have pen and paper handy? If not, go get them! Hurry!” Tang Wei curled up beneath his desk, clutching the landline. Right now, this heavy huanghuali furniture was the only thing giving him a sense of security. With his back against the solid wood panel, his heart barely managed to maintain a rhythm that kept him from a heart attack.

“I have three bank cards—one from Traffic Bank, one from Merchants Bank, and one from Industrial Bank. The card numbers are all written on the interleaf page of the blue album at home, and the password is your birthday, reversed… Don’t interrupt me, just listen! I’m busy here and I’ll have to hang up soon.” Tang Wei panted, struggling to keep his voice from trembling so that his dad wouldn’t hear anything amiss. “The property deeds are all at Aunt’s place. Six commercial apartments and one shop, seven deeds in total—don’t lose count. I also put three million in a trust under your name, maturing in a year and a half. Don’t forget about your commercial insurance, which is also three million… Oh, and my watches and jade are worth two million altogether, so don’t throw them away.” Tang Wei wiped his face, but tears still involuntarily poured out. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. We’re just getting the visa, right? I’m telling you all this because if the visa officer asks about family assets, you’ll know what to say… I said I’m fine! Why don’t you believe me? Can you stop giving me a hard time? You’ve worried about me since I was little; is this really necessary now…”