Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 257: Divine Hall of Murals (11)

Dragon Raja 3

Within seconds, the gap between Cassell College’s top student and the leader of the Japanese branch had become clear. Even with Caesar and Chu Zihang working together, they couldn’t subdue this Royal!

Kumogiri had disappeared from the shadowed wall. Caesar searched around, but Chisei had already melted into the darkness. Caesar’s Kamaitachi ability was useless; he could only hear two heartbeats, his own and Chu Zihang’s. It seemed as though only the two of them remained alive in the mural hall.

Caesar knew this was because Chisei’s bloodline was so strong that he could suppress his heartbeat, but it felt more like they were fighting a demon that could appear and disappear from the shadows at will. This was a super-Hybrid, someone who could defy all rules.

Suddenly, Chu Zihang attacked, slashing his blade toward Caesar’s throat. Caesar immediately ducked. They had been enemies for so long that they had developed an unspoken understanding.

Chisei had just emerged from the darkness, and Kumogiri eerily descended toward the back of Caesar’s head. His sword technique had switched to Ten’narinshin-ryū’s “Shin’i-bō,” a sword style derived from staff techniques. It wasn’t focused on speed but on immense strength. Caesar didn’t even notice the sound of Kumogiri slicing through the air.

Chu Zihang’s long blade clashed with Kumogiri, sparks flying, and the oppressive heat wave washed over Chisei’s face. Chu Zihang’s blade had just been heated in the domain of King’s Blaze.

Chu Zihang didn’t withdraw his blade. In the exact same posture and trajectory, he slashed out a second strike, hitting Kumogiri in the same spot, followed by a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth… With each strike, Kumogiri trembled violently, forcing Chisei to retreat step by step. The sparks from the previous slash hadn’t yet extinguished before new sparks splattered out, growing denser with each strike. Chu Zihang’s continuous slashes were even stronger than Inuyama’s Nine-Rank Flash, forcing Chisei to maintain a constant defensive stance. Before Chisei had leaped out of the elevator shaft, Chu Zihang had already activated his bloodline, temporarily crossing the critical threshold with the help of refining techniques from the Lionheart Society.

When facing a super-Hybrid, he had no confidence in victory, but someone like him would never retreat, even when unsure of success. Instead, he would show hand immediately.

Chu Zihang initiated his “Thirteen Consecutive Slashes,” performing the same movement from the same angle repeatedly, forcing the enemy into a blade-to-blade confrontation, testing who would run out of strength first. It was a simple yet powerful sword technique—the more consecutive slashes, the stronger it became. Legend has it that in history, sword masters could perform thirteen consecutive slashes, with all the force concentrated on the same spot on the opponent’s weapon, ultimately breaking the blade. Thus, it was called the “Blade-Breaking Thirteen Consecutive Slashes.” But for Hybrids, thirteen was by no means the limit. Chu Zihang had once unleashed 234 consecutive slashes, where the number no longer mattered—only the unending surge of blade light could be seen.

Caesar had once mocked Chu Zihang’s Thirteen Consecutive Slashes as a “tree-cutting machine,” monotonous and without any aesthetic. But at this moment, this tree-cutting machine was forcing the human-shaped dragon to retreat again and again. Caesar couldn’t help but want to cheer for the tree-cutting machine.

Before the praise in his heart could be spoken, Caesar saw Chu Zihang fly backward. To be precise, Chu Zihang had been violently knocked back. He staggered, trying to regain his balance, his long sword trembling uncontrollably in his hand, almost impossible to grip. The consecutive slashes had been forcibly interrupted. During the gap between strikes, Chisei suddenly stepped forward, slamming his shoulder into Chu Zihang’s chest. This was Yagyū Shinkage-ryū Muto-dori Second Form. If Chu Zihang’s wrist had been caught, Chisei would have instantly disarmed him of his long sword. But Chu Zihang, using his enhanced strength, grabbed at Chisei’s wrist with an empty hand, applying a wrist-lock technique. Normally, his wrist-locks could dislocate or even break his opponent’s wrist, but this time, he was gripping a hand capable of shattering bronze barehanded! Chisei’s wrist bones cracked loudly, the gaps between the bones disappearing as they fused together tightly. Chu Zihang couldn’t budge his wrist at all.

The bones of a Royal were completely different from those of humans! Like dragons, Chisei had thousands of bones, which, when necessary, could fuse into a single unit!

Only half of the Muto-dori Second Form had been executed, and Chisei failed to disarm Chu Zihang’s long sword. Instead, he swung his arm in a sweeping motion, striking Chu Zihang’s chest. If not for Chu Zihang being in Blood Rage, this blow would have caused extensive fractures. He now understood what Caesar had meant by the sensation of having one’s heart struck by a siege ram. For a moment, it felt as if his very soul had been knocked out of his body. Any remaining trace of optimism vanished. The two stood back-to-back, forming a defensive stance, sweat pouring from their bodies like water released from a dam, drenching them from the inside out.

So, this was what a Royal was like. Even with bloodlines as strong as Caesar’s and Chu Zihang’s, they had to keep their nerves as taut as steel strings when fighting him. Any lapse would result in one outcome—death!

Chu Zihang silently adjusted his Blood Rage level from second-degree to third-degree—his limit. He had only attempted fourth-degree Blood Rage once, during his battle with Fenrir, the Dragon King. After entering fourth-degree Blood Rage, he had become no different from a berserker like the Molotov cocktail-injected Sakurai Mei, a bloodthirsty monster driven purely by killing instinct. Caesar, on the other hand, was still in first-degree Blood Rage. He closed his eyes, focusing entirely on listening. In this state, his hearing was sharper than his vision.

The flickering candlelight in front of the altar illuminated the faces of all three. Chu Zihang and Caesar both had black stockings pulled over their heads, making them look like foolish bank robbers, but it was best to keep their identities hidden until the mystery was revealed. Caesar had wrapped his Desert Eagle in black matte tape and covered the ivory grip’s Death Angel emblem with adhesive tape. Chu Zihang’s long sword was the nameless version made by the Gear Department, distinguished by its lack of distinguishing features—it was simply a plain steel blade.

The designers in the Gear Department had extreme aesthetic tastes. Their creations either followed the simple and deadly military style or leaned toward bizarre anime-inspired designs. They had once recommended a circular shield to Caesar, painted in red and blue, and praised by the weapon designers for its flawless performance and unique design. They suggested Caesar hold the shield in one hand and his Desert Eagle in the other, claiming the shield would reduce his chances of getting shot by 76%. Caesar had replied, “Forget it, don’t think I don’t read comics. The guy you’re talking about is called Captain America.”

Sweat trickled down the lining of his trench coat, dripping to the ground.

“You’re still alive, that’s good,” Chisei said.

Caesar and Chu Zihang exchanged a quick glance but said nothing. It was a trap—speaking would only incriminate them.

Chisei smoked a cigarette, coldly watching them. It was hard to tell if he had recognized their identities.

“Your disguise is terrible. I won’t mention the rest, but what really gave you away was the scent of Cohiba Behike cigars. That’s the finest cigar from Cohiba,” Chisei said coolly. “Nice to see you again, Caesar Gattuso!”

“Oh, I get it. In a country where every man smokes effeminate cigarettes, a real man who smokes cigars sticks out like a sore thumb,” Caesar laughed as he ripped the stocking off his face.

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