Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 35: Journey to the End of the World (35)

Dragon Raja 4

“When did you discover my secret?” Chu Zihang smiled. “I thought I had hidden it well.”

“I’ve been to the Nibelungen in Beijing, and there I didn’t find your dragon bones. Because you had already implanted your genes into Mr. Chu’s body, that’s why you appeared so weak in your last life.”

“Truly worthy of being one of my brothers. You are indeed the wisest among us. But being friends with smart people is always dangerous. I need your sincerity.”

“My clever sister, how could you believe in something as intangible as sincerity? I know what proof you want. I will give you my blood. The Covenant of Kings is always written in blood, just as it was back then.”

“Really, brother? A great person like you, making a blood oath with others?” Chu Zihang’s eyes flashed with a breathtaking beauty.

“You are not just anyone. You are the great Jörmungandr, my sister,” Macallan said, wiping the long blade with his hand and raising the bleeding palm into the air.

Sasha watched in astonishment. He and the Seadog Paw were making a fierce advance, but they would only have a chance to control the situation if Chu Zihang suppressed Macallan. However, Chu Zihang wasn’t following the plan. He simply drew the Kumogiri Blade and positioned it between himself and Macallan. After their intimate conversation, Chu Zihang also wiped the long blade with his hand, pressing the two bleeding palms together. At that moment, both hands grew into fierce claws.

Sasha didn’t know what this gesture meant, but he could sense an alliance was being formed. He guessed correctly—it was a covenant among dragons, sharing each other’s blood and genes, with betrayers being punished by these genes.

Chu Zihang wanted to roar, “No, no, no!” but what he said was: “Dear brother, with this, we sever old grievances and usher in a new era together!”

He suddenly realized the mistake he had made. His ability to surpass the limits of evolution was not due to being bathed in Jörmungandr’s blood. And Macallan had long hinted at this, saying he was the chosen one.

“That’s right, dear Mr. Chu. You are not a carrier of Jörmungandr’s genes,” Macallan said softly. “You have been Jörmungandr’s cocoon for many years. The reason she has always been with you is because you are her tool to return to this world. Everything you have experienced is a trap she set for you. That trap is named ‘Xia Mi.’ How could a great being who repeatedly returns from death be deceived by emotions? What she is protecting is not you, but herself!”

The girl Chu Zihang had seen in his dreams appeared again. This time, she stood behind Chu Zihang, holding a rain-drenched oil paper umbrella, and leaned in to press her cheek against his.

She was no longer the graceful water-town woman, no longer dressed in cloud-like plain garments. She wore a vermilion tassel dress and a golden crown that dazzled the world. Centered on her nose, her delicate little face was adorned with fine scales like blooming flowers.

Chu Zihang’s vision gradually darkened, and his consciousness seemed to sink into the deep sea. He wanted to struggle, but he couldn’t move a single finger.

His last awareness was the girl’s light laughter in his ear: “Fool! What’s so bad about this? This way, you become our partner. This is the path you should choose.”

The lights on the entire ship went out, and only the dazzling aurora illuminated the blood-stained deck. Sasha looked around in astonishment and noticed that everyone around him had stopped moving.

Time had not frozen; the steam vents continued to spew mist, someone’s fire axe was still slowly dripping blood, and the cold wind continued to howl with snowflakes. Yet the passengers who had been drinking, kissing, and fighting had turned into lifeless statues, like clay or wooden figures. Only Chu Zihang and Macallan remained, their hands tightly clasped as they walked toward the railing. As they raised their clasped hands into the air, the lights came back on, revealing an entirely different world. A massive Viking ship floated on the ice sea, its bow wrapped in gold, its hull decorated with silver, and its huge prow pointed directly north, bathed in a faint glow. The passengers were dressed in ancient-style robes, wielding swords with bronze blades and golden hilts. The women wore gold rings and ornaments around their necks, their long skirts billowing in the wind, revealing their strong legs. They felt no cold, and everyone, young and old, had regained their youth, becoming the best versions of themselves from their memories.

However, the ordinary passengers lying in pools of blood had transformed into fierce goat-headed monsters or beautiful female slaves. Thus, their madness was explained: this was a collective hallucination, where everyone played a role in this dream. They killed monsters, owned slaves, and displayed their powers as new gods. “Sahā World” was a Yanling that fabricated a sweeping illusion, subjecting people to endless torment or endless pleasure, and even allowing someone to experience life and death within the illusion. This was one of the White Empress’s supreme powers, not inferior to her  “Oracle” skill, with which she countered the Black Emperor’s influence. In its domain, reality and illusion were blurred, and those immersed in it could not extricate themselves.

Macallan was the master of this dream, and now another master had entered the dream. Their raised hands were dripping with blood, each drop falling to the ground. Macallan wore a golden mask, his entire figure enveloped in bright golden light. Chu Zihang, on the other hand, had transformed into a girl in a red dress and golden crown, with golden flames flowing from her eyes.

At first glance, it looked like an emperor and empress had arrived, but the girl’s majesty was no less than Macallan’s. Their tightly clasped hands revealed bulging veins and sharp claws, neither willing to give way even an inch.

“Brother, did you also devour the White Empress’s dragon bones?” the girl asked coldly, looking at Macallan.

“Just the bones of a contemptible false king,” Macallan said lightly, “We found the remains of Herzog at the Tokyo Port.” 

The passengers knelt before their masters in a tidal wave, cheering and shouting “Holy! Holy!” only Sasha was angrily cursing, “Bastard! Wake up! Wake up!”

In his view, reality and illusion were switching rapidly. The person shaking hands with Macallan was sometimes the hollow-eyed Chu Zihang, and sometimes the imposing red-dressed girl.

He struggled hard, but the dream repeatedly washed over his mind. He knew he would eventually be engulfed by the illusion and had to awaken the determined Chu from before. “Wake up! Wake up!” Sasha roared hoarsely. “You can do it! You’re a miracle-working magician! Take care of things here, and I’ll take you back to Moscow to see my Anna!”

The girl in the red dress hesitated for a moment, pressing her hand to her forehead, as if recalling something or being unable to bear Sasha’s noisy disturbance.

Macallan noticed her change, turned his gaze toward her eyes, and asked, “Are you still troubled by past memories?”

The girl in the red dress looked coldly at him, her gaze becoming fierce again. “How could it be? I am Jörmungandr! The Dragon Queen Jörmungandr!”

“Yes! The Dragon Queen Jörmungandr!” Macallan said with a smile. “Your nobility is on par with mine. Together, we shall achieve immortality!”

He turned to Vincent. The old man huddled in the corner, nervously glancing around. Even he found everything happening before him too absurd and terrifying, beginning to regret having brought the Holy Palace Medical Society as his investors. He had once thought this organization was full of fools with money, and he could easily manipulate them. In the end, it was proven that he was just a hound they bought.

“Always at your service!” Vincent said, trembling, as he half-knelt before Macallan, his eyes reflecting a desperate desire to serve his master.

The hound had to prove his worth actively, to avoid being discarded once the hare was dead. Besides, he secretly felt relieved that he was different from the passengers who had paid a high price for their tickets. Those people were true ants, while Vincent’s status was above theirs. This world often worked this way: you had to kneel and be someone’s dog to show off in front of others.

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