Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 68: Ace Combination (1)

Dragon Raja 3

The black “Gulfstream G550” roared deafeningly, tearing through the clouds.

This ultra-long-range business jet was designed for billionaires, superstars, or political figures. Flying in such a private jet allowed them to sleep for a few hours while crossing the Pacific—boarding in the night of New York and waking up to the dawn of Paris. The plane was designed to be incredibly quiet; when flying in the stratosphere, VIPs could barely notice the engine operating. The designers claimed it flew like “a giant blue whale swimming in the deep sea.”

However, the noise level of this Gulfstream was extreme. Besides the roar of the engines, passengers could even hear the sharp whistle of the wings cutting through the air. Above was a dazzling Milky Way, below was the dark sea, hidden beneath the black clouds. The plane surged forward like a tiger shark charging at its prey. This Gulfstream had been modified by Cassell College’s Gear Department and was nicknamed “Sleipnir.” Sleipnir was the eight-legged steed of Odin in Norse mythology, and whenever it soared across the sky, it burned like a fiery meteor. The only drawback was its excessive noise. The Gear Department cared only about peak speed as the embodiment of exquisite craftsmanship—comfort was optional. Their job was to craft weapons for slaying dragons, and weapon craftsmen never considered comfort.

“Have you ever seen a tank with sectional air conditioning, heated seats, and massage chairs?” Director Arcadura said, full of conviction.

Caesar turned on the reading light above his seat and unsealed the document envelope. A red “SS” seal marked the flap of the envelope, indicating that the documents inside were top secret. Caesar had received this envelope just before boarding, but regulations stipulated that it could only be opened after landing. The envelope’s contents weren’t particularly voluminous—just a black-and-white photo, a memory chip, and a set of Russian documents accompanied by a translation.

Caesar first picked up the black-and-white photo. It depicted a majestic, giant icebreaker, with a white hull and a black superstructure, and a red star engraved on its bow. The Russian documents detailed this ship’s record. The ship in the photo was the decorated battleship “Lenin,” the world’s first nuclear-powered icebreaker, originally belonging to the Soviet Northern Fleet. During its service, it had received multiple commendations, laden with honors. However, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, it disappeared from the Northern Fleet’s roster without a trace. Its record abruptly ended on December 25, 1991, and the Northern Fleet never pursued its whereabouts, as if someone had erased this steel giant from the world with an eraser.

Caesar inserted the black chip into his laptop’s card slot. Norma’s voice came through his earphones, “Caesar? Gattuso, your mission this time is to investigate the wreck of the Soviet-era icebreaker ‘Lenin.’ The decorated icebreaker ‘Lenin’ is known as the ‘Red Beast of the Arctic,’ the world’s first polar icebreaker claimed to navigate any sea. Because without it, there was no reaching the frozen seas. On the eve of the Soviet collapse, it defied Northern Fleet orders and sailed toward Japanese waters. When nearing Japanese territorial waters, it sent out a distress signal, but it was reported that Japan’s Self-Defense Force rescue ship only found the deep sea. It’s suspected that the Lenin was carrying items related to the Dragon Raja civilization. The Japanese branch will support your operation. The chip will auto-format in three seconds. Good luck.”

Caesar counted down silently to three seconds. The laptop suddenly displayed “Memory Card Not Recognized,” and Caesar gently snapped the chip in half.

“Related to the Dragon Raja?” Caesar lit the paper documents on fire and threw the burning photos and papers into the metal trash bin. A brilliantly lit metropolis appeared below the wings—a network of expressways spread out like a glowing spiderweb. That was Tokyo, Asia’s largest city and the destination for this mission.

It had only taken six hours to fly from Chicago to Tokyo—truly fitting for Sleipnir. This Gulfstream was a favorite of the Principal, who usually didn’t want to use it except when attending auctions worldwide. Anjou would bring out this precious plane from the hangar to lend prestige to the college, and after auctions, he’d use it to transport some “items related to the Dragon Raja civilization” back to the college. Using a private jet made it easier to pass customs security. Besides that, Anjou preferred to endure regular commercial flights. But when Caesar received Norma’s message to rush from New York to Chicago, Sleipnir was already roaring on the runway, waiting for him. The Principal’s generosity, of course, wasn’t to show favor; it was because the mission was both high-level and extremely secret.

Sitting opposite Caesar were the two partners for this mission. One of them, looking relatively composed, held a black-sheathed long blade, and even with his eyes closed, his muscles were taut, and his back straight as a javelin. The other, in stark contrast, drooled in his sleep, leaning against the dignified fellow beside him. Caesar watched his partners with interest, imagining if one day these two got to the point of sharing a bed with a beloved girl, what the girls might think of their sleeping habits. The latter’s sleep style was clearly failing; as for the former, the girl would probably feel like she was shooting an old martial arts film by Shaw Brothers, with the young hero poisoned by a villain, and she stripping for righteousness to infuse him with energy.

Chu Zihang was just like that. Even with his eyes closed, it seemed like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—his sword brows and sharp gaze, radiating a solemn demeanor.

“The brightest spot over there is Ginza. It’s said that at the peak of Japanese real estate prices, the land of Ginza was worth enough to buy the entire United States,” Caesar said, looking out the window.

“I’m not interested in Ginza. But I do want to see ‘Chidorigafuchi,’” Chu Zihang opened his eyes.

“That’s a World War II memorial for unnamed Japanese soldiers, right next to the Yasukuni Shrine. As a Chinese, do you want to go spit on the tombstones?”

“I heard there’s a mile-long path lined with 800 cherry blossom trees.”

“Very fitting for your style,” Caesar shrugged.

He knew that Chu Zihang was only resting with his eyes closed, so he tried to make conversation to avoid the awkward silence between them. Since boarding, they had barely exchanged a few words. But after trying, Caesar had to admit that they had absolutely nothing in common. Who knows how the group roster was determined—three completely different people with worldviews that were miles apart. To Caesar, Tokyo meant Michelin-starred sushi restaurants, hot springs in Hokkaido, and Kyoto silverware or Kansai ironworks, while Chu Zihang wanted to visit an anonymous public cemetery. Caesar imagined Chu Zihang sitting cross-legged beneath a cherry blossom tree in late spring, a long sword resting on his knees, logically preparing for ritual suicide.

Did Anjou really think they’d work together seamlessly by putting the two of them in one group? It was like locking a lion and a tiger in one cage, and throwing in Lu Mingfei, an innocent little panda. But Caesar decided to take a conciliatory approach since he was the team leader for this mission, and the outcome of the task related to his honor. For the sake of honor, he could endure anything. Along the way, he kept reminding himself to be magnanimous, to have the demeanor of a leader, to show appreciation to his subordinates… treating Chu Zihang as the “subordinate” he needed to appreciate made Caesar feel much better. Recently, he was basking in the pink mood of preparing for his wedding, feeling gentle at heart—even Chu Zihang seemed more pleasing to the eye.