Dragon Raja 5; Chapter 238: For Your Majesty (53)

Dragon Raja 5

“Mr. Gattuso, when you’re not around this table, Caesar is our school director, and we’re concerned about his safety. But the incident has already happened, and we’ve done everything we can. Now we can only wait and see,” Professor Manstein said. “If the Gattusos are not satisfied with our rescue efforts, what can we do to satisfy them?”

“Send an aircraft carrier battle group, plus three nuclear submarines, to bring my son back, and by the way, use a Tomahawk missile to kill the dragon! Isn’t this a very simple thing?” Pompey spread his hands.

Manstein coughed awkwardly. “That’s impossible. You’re just joking.”

“Who said it’s impossible? I still have the energy to joke with a bald guy like you?” Pompey rolled his eyes. “It all depends on who makes the move. If you want us to be satisfied, the operation to hunt Leviathan will be under my command until my son returns home alive. I have the authority to mobilize the Executive Department’s branches around the world. I also have the right not to report progress to the elders, but I promise you will receive a detailed report afterwards. Of course, most importantly, I need the highest authority in the EVA!”

“Mr. Gattuso! You are asking for too much! You are going to treat the secret party as the private army of the Gattuso family!” Beowulf was furious, with veins bulging on his forehead.

He simply didn’t want to waste time talking to this playboy; even the mere sight of him disgusted him. While the Gattuso family had centuries of history, compared to Beowulf’s, they were merely upstarts and nouveau riche among the mixed-bloods. When Beowulf’s warriors slew dragons, the surname “Gattuso” hadn’t even been coined. Yet, over the centuries, this family had produced countless talented individuals, becoming the most prominent and prestigious among the mixed-blood families, while Beowulf’s family had steadily declined, becoming synonymous with old age.

It was these cunning Sicilians who stole the glory of the Beowulf family! They drank expensive wine, behaved frivolously and ostentatiously, mingled with the powerful and amassed a staggering wealth. The Gattuso family’s current status was built on wealth, but the Beowulf family name was gilded with the blood of generations of warriors!

“Gentlemen, you have not yet understood the nature of the Secret Party as an organization.” Pompey suddenly became quiet, sat down, leaned back, and leaned against the wide chair.

He reminds people of Al Pacino in “The Godfather”: handsome, calm, and smiling, but he is the emperor of the dark world, and he is cold even when sitting in the sun.

“All organizations in the world, whether they are governments and universities under the sun, or Freemasonry and the Illuminati in the shadows, are nothing more than a group of people gathered around a certain purpose. The more rigorous the organization, the greater its purpose. The Secret Party is certainly a rigorous organization, but have you seniors ever thought seriously about its purpose?” Pompey looked around.

No one answered. Some people did not understand Pompey’s intention of suddenly talking about the sociological term “organization”, while others were disdainful of it.

“We can find all sorts of high-sounding goals, like protecting world peace and suppressing the dragon race’s resurgence. But are we truly such dedicated idealists?” Pompey smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous, gentlemen. Ideals are among the most beautiful flowers in the garden of the human spirit, but the more beautiful a flower, the shorter its bloom. The Secret Party couldn’t have survived for thousands of years relying solely on ‘ideals’. How many of you here don’t have your own families? And how did your families prosper? Mr. Beowulf, your ancestors founded a nation on the Scandinavian Peninsula. How did that dragon-slaying warrior ascend to the throne? Dragon slaying relies on the heroic feat of slaying dragons and the mountains of gold piled in the dragon’s lair. Mr. Vanderbilt, Mr. Turing…” Pompey looked at them one by one. “If you’d like to hear, I can tell you each the story of your rise to power.”

“Yes, the Secret Party has made enormous sacrifices. Without the Secret Party, the Dragon Kings might have once again ruled the world. But the major families that make up the Secret Party have also gained wealth, power, and status from the business of dragon slaying. Your families have enthusiastically sent their young men to this academy for training. I ask, do you truly intend to dedicate your lives to our great cause? No, at least when I decided to send Caesar to school, I was thinking, how could there not be someone named Gattuso among the new generation of elites of the Secret Party? If the Gattuso family withdrew from the Secret Party, they would close their door to the world of dragons. Dragons are both our mortal enemies and the treasure trove on which we build our wealth. What I mean is that dragon slaying, in a sense, is a business.”

“Pompeii! Shut up! This is Valhalla! Here are stored the ashes of the secret party’s victims from all generations! How dare you say such things in front of their tombstones?” Beowulf stood up suddenly, his face blood red and his eyes fierce.

The elders all wanted to stand up and dodge at the same time. A terrifying aura that was invisible to the naked eye emanated from Beowulf like a raging tide.

Beowulf had already deployed his domain, covering the entire conference hall. His muscles bulged, his bones cracked, and his already powerful figure grew even more massive, threatening to rip his shirt at any moment.

That wasn’t his natural bloodline, but the result of years of strengthening himself with dragon serum. The Elders’ Council was certainly a place where hidden talents abounded, but none dared to confront Beowulf head-on. When enraged, the “Dragonblood” was a real-life Hulk.

“If what I said were just ignorant rants, then it wouldn’t matter, right? In your eyes, I’ve always been ignorant and shameless. Even if there was a naked woman sitting on my lap flirting with me, Mr. Beowulf wouldn’t be so angry, right? But why are you so eager to silence me when I rarely say a serious word?” Pompey continued to smile. “Bruno was burned at the stake in the Campo de’ Fiori because he told the truth. The Inquisition can’t win the debate, so only the annihilationists can.”

He watched Beowulf quietly.

Although he came in the name of a “heartbroken student’s parent”, he was still wearing his signature white suit and white leather shoes, with a silk scarf as brilliant as a peacock’s tail feathers wrapped around his collar, looking like an old white-faced man who could only act coquettishly in a woman’s arms.

But Pompey withstood Beowulf’s pressure. When the turbulent aura came in front of him, it was like being blocked by an invisible wall.

“Sir Beowulf,” Mr. Turing whispered, “Everyone at this conference table has the right to express their opinions, and no violence should be used in this conference room.”

Beowulf glared at Tuling fiercely, but as he met the gazes of the other elders, his fury gradually dissipated. Not everyone was indignant at Pompey’s words. Some remained silent, while others even stared intently at Beowulf, anticipating any further action. Beowulf adjusted his shirt collar and sat back down heavily.

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