Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 116: Subspecies (1)

Dragon Raja 3

“First pressure test of the Trieste! Pipe pressure at 300 atmospheres, valve opening!”

“First circuit test! All switches at full load, go!”

“Thrust system trial run, 80% output!”

“Memory metal film electrification preparation!”

In the dock, the Chisei Institute was conducting the final tests on the Trieste, with technicians shouting loudly. Thousands of cables connected to the Trieste, and dozens of instruments surrounded it, flashing with lights. This dock was adjacent to the Sumeru Throne’s power room, and the concrete insulation walls could not block the heat from the boilers in the power room. The temperature in the dock exceeded 40 degrees Celsius, and the air was completely stagnant. During the pressure test, the Trieste would release air currents equivalent to a Category 12 hurricane, causing the hot air in the entire dock to flow rapidly, accompanied by terrifying ultrasonic noise. Yet, none of the technicians from the Chisei Institute showed any discomfort; they were entirely focused on their tasks, completely shutting out unrelated thoughts.

This scene reminded Lu Mingfei of Sakura Wars, a story set in the early 20th century Taisho era, where an all-girl imperial combat team performed Shakespearean plays in a theatrical troupe. Whenever demons attacked, the streets would crack open, and steam-powered airships would fly out from the dock beneath the theater, carrying girls clad in magical armor to the battlefield.

Lu Mingfei sat cross-legged in a corner of the dock, next to Chu Zihang, who was also sitting cross-legged. The light in the middle of the dock cast their long shadows on the concrete wall.

They had changed into waterproof combat suits, which were covered with an extremely thin metal mesh that created an electrostatic barrier to help them withstand the mental shock from the embryo.

Chu Zihang was polishing his knife, meticulously applying oil and wiping it down repeatedly. In fact, he didn’t really need to do this, as his original knife had already broken. The current one was a replica made by the Equipment Department’s metalworking team. Of course, the Equipment Department didn’t have the patience to use traditional techniques like Japanese swordsmiths, painstakingly forging tamahagane steel and hand-polishing the blade. Instead, they used a new type of superalloy that was molded in one piece, then sharpened with machine tools and finally polished with diamond wheels. A knife made this way didn’t require much maintenance; the superalloy was inherently more durable than tamahagane steel, and its edge was less likely to get damaged. Even if the edge did get damaged, the Equipment Department could produce a new replica in less than a day, even mass-produce it. Even if Chu Zihang had the skills of a seven-sword style warrior like Tokugawa Yoshitora from Samurai Shodown 4, the Equipment Department could ensure he always had a knife to wield and could switch it out anytime.

He just had this habit. Listening to the sound of the sharpening stone against the blade allowed him to gradually calm down, much like someone doing yoga, feeling a connection between themselves and the universe.

Caesar wasn’t sitting with them; he was testing the steel platform of the Trieste. He had been wearing a white captain’s uniform when he boarded the ship, but now, due to the heat, he had taken off his top, revealing a muscular chest. The spotlight illuminated him, causing him to sweat profusely, his golden hair looking fiery red. He shouted orders to the technicians. Many of the technicians from the Chisei Institute had not trained at Cassell College and were not fluent in Chinese, so Caesar spoke to them primarily in English and Chinese, mixing in a few Japanese phrases he had learned in recent days. This mix of languages sounded like a hodgepodge to Lu Mingfei; he couldn’t quite understand what Caesar was saying, only noticing him sometimes frowning, giving thumbs up, or smiling and patting the technicians on the shoulder.

“He must enjoy that feeling—teamwork, sweating together, feeling important among a group of people,” Chu Zihang said, looking at Caesar’s back. “But neither of us can give him that feeling.”

“The boss is the head of the club, and you’re also a club leader, but the difference between you and him is significant. If you don’t put yourself out there among the crowd, how are you supposed to manage the Lionheart Club?”

“I never manage the Lionheart Club; managing it is Lancelot’s job,” Chu Zihang said flatly. “Lancelot often reminds me to speak less during club activities because no matter how hard I try, I can’t speak as well as Caesar. He’s a natural leader; he can get up and deliver an impassioned speech about anything. Lancelot said that if I don’t speak, people might think I’m too proud to say much and that I’m more of an action type. But if I do speak and it’s not as good as Caesar, then the Lionheart Club loses points in that area.”

“That’s quite calculating of you, but as the president, isn’t it a bit disheartening to be evaluated like that by the vice president?”

“Because it’s the truth, I don’t feel disheartened. Sometimes I really admire Caesar; he always has a goal no matter where he is, rarely fears anything, and is always the one to inspire courage in a group.” Chu Zihang said, glancing at Lu Mingfei. “People can choose how they want to live, and Caesar is the kind of man who demands he live like a hero. It’s not just because he was born into the Gattuso family, as the best of the best; it’s also about his will.”

“Alright, alright. Brother, you’re lecturing me again. Lately, you’ve been so motivational in your speech. Are you trying to encourage me, or are you gearing up to boost your leadership score to compete with the boss? I get it; I understand. Character determines fate, and a man should strive to be strong. I’ll work hard to live a life that makes me feel significant.” Lu Mingfei paused. “Even if no good girls like me, I can still endure for a few more years and then trick the little junior sister once I’m as good as you.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Is it about the senior sister? Then don’t ask.” Lu Mingfei said, “It’s not a big deal. I’m fine; look at me, I’ve been lively all the way here without a frown.”

“Hmm, alright.” Chu Zihang lowered his head to continue polishing the knife.

Talking to Chu Zihang has this advantage: if you say, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he will immediately cut off the topic. However, it becomes difficult to find another topic to discuss afterward.

Lu Mingfei actually wanted to chat a bit more; he just didn’t want to talk about Nono. Soon, they would be infiltrating the Abyss, which was 8 kilometers deep, a place that fewer than ten people in the world had ever been to. There was also a dragon embryo in the Abyss, and with his courage, he should have been scared to the point of trembling. However, he wasn’t as afraid as he expected to be; instead, he felt a slightly chilly, numb sensation. Throughout this journey, he consistently felt as if his soul was separating from his body—sometimes, while his body moved forward, his soul lazily lagged behind; at other times, he smiled on the outside, but his heart remained numb. It seemed that the nerve controlling his smile had successfully declared independence, splitting him into two: one lively and carefree Lu Mingfei, and another slightly cold and numb Lu Mingfei. He wasn’t sure if this counted as him healing himself.

For two days, Chisei had found their behavior logic quite strange. They were a group of neurotics who could burst into song and dance around him at any moment, yet he felt no pressure about the impending dangerous task. What he hadn’t grasped was that the sources of these three neurotics’ issues were entirely different; they just happened to exhibit similar symptoms. Caesar was fearless because he was arrogant, believing he was enveloped in a pink “wedding blessing” aura that would keep all misfortune away from him. In contrast, Chu Zihang’s calmness came from his abnormal self-control; even when a knife approached his brow, he would force himself to stare at the blade, knowing that only calmness between life and death could improve the odds of a counterattack. As for Lu Mingfei, he had already split into two: the lively and carefree Lu Mingfei who struggled to say silly things and gawk at girls in short skirts, marveling at luxurious hotels and the headquarters of the underworld, and the slightly cold and numb Lu Mingfei who wandered aimlessly nearby, isolated from the world. He didn’t feel particularly sad or joyful, indifferent to everything, just a bit tired.