Dragons begin with courage

As the fiery red taillights tore through the night like a shooting star and quickly disappeared at the end of the street, the crowd fell into a brief silence.

Xu Miaohui spat first, breaking the silence with a sour tone: "Pah! No wonder this kid dared to be so arrogant today, turns out... he got lucky and climbed up the social ladder!"

"Exactly," someone immediately chimed in, their tone tinged with resentment and disdain. "Who knows if that school is reliable or not? Maybe it's a scam. They just got lucky this time. They'll have to come back eventually, won't they? How can they compare to Meng Hua?"

A bespectacled girl, usually unremarkable in the club, stared in the direction the car had disappeared and suddenly asked softly, "If... Lu Mingfei had confessed his feelings successfully and Chen Wenwen had said yes, would he... not have left?"

Xu Yan snorted coldly, his tone resolute: "How could that be? An acceptance letter from an American university, and maybe even a green card, to become a Chinese American! Only a fool wouldn't go! I think he came here today just to show off and disgust people!" He tried to explain the "dimensional reduction attack" that was beyond his comprehension with the greatest malice.

"He won't leave."

A clear, assertive female voice rang out, drowning out the whispers.

Everyone turned to look at Su Xiaoqiang, the little fairy who had spoken. She didn't look at anyone; her gaze remained fixed on the street corner where the Ferrari had disappeared, her face expressionless, only displaying a knowing calm.

"If Chen Wenwen agrees to him," she repeated, her voice soft but carrying a strange strength, her gaze slowly sweeping over the pale-faced Chen Wenwen and the gloomy-looking Zhao Menghua, "he will stay."

This sentence was like a pebble thrown into a still-unsettled lake of the heart, creating another subtle and unsettling ripple.

Further away, in a shadowy corner untouched by streetlights, a pure black Maybach stood silently like a rock.

The driver's side window slowly rolled down to a crack half a finger wide, and a wisp of pale blue cigar smoke drifted out and blended into the night.

Behind the car window, the profile of a middle-aged man, weathered yet undeniably handsome, was partially visible. He held a large cigar between his teeth, took a deep drag, and exhaled slowly, white smoke rings spreading gently in the dim light. His gaze seemed to pierce through the distance, locking onto the direction where the long-gone Ferrari taillights had once streaked across the night sky.

A knowing, relieved, yet infinitely complex smile slowly curved his lips.

"really……"

He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse, with a metallic quality, as if it were imbued with the weariness and sedimentation of years.

"I guessed right..."

His fingers tapped unconsciously on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the deep, boundless night sky, as if trying to pierce through the clouds and look directly at the stars and undercurrents invisible to mortals.

"Something that even that old bastard Odin would be wary of..."

"Not a hybrid, not a dragon king..."

"It's you. Lu Mingfei."

The three words rolled silently between his teeth, carrying the taste of blood and fire, the lingering smoke of that rainy night four years ago, and a sense of desolate destiny, as if the dust had settled.

This man was none other than Chu Tianjiao. Four years ago, during the Battle of Nibelungen, Chu Tianjiao should have been reduced to ashes.

He didn't die. The price was heavy, but he ultimately stole a life and something more important from the cracks of God's fingers.

He picked up the latest iPhone 3G from the armrest compartment, the screen illuminating several jagged, seemingly never-healing, faint scars on his knuckles. He opened the contact's contact labeled "Son" and quickly typed:

Chu Tianjiao: "Lu Mingfei nodded; he was just picked up."

Send. Wait. He knew it was daytime on the other side of the ocean, and Chu Zihang should have just finished his morning training.

A few seconds later, the phone vibrated.

Chu Zihang: "Received."

The reply was concise, typical of that kid. But then, another message popped up:

Chu Zihang: "The situation in the Three Gorges area is complex. The information has been sent to your encrypted email address. Be careful."

Chu Tianjiao stared at the words for a moment, then chuckled and cursed softly, a faint smile playing on his lips. The lines around his eyes softened slightly. "You brat... I'm not old enough for you to nag me."

Even so, his fingers deftly navigated the phone, tapping the email icon marked with a complex password. He never took his son's warning lightly.

Across the ocean, in Chicago.

Chu Zihang closed his phone and put it in his training uniform pocket. He had just finished a two-hour-long, extreme weighted sword-swinging session; sweat soaked through his vest, rolling down his muscle lines. He walked to the window; the four-minute sky was a somber, inky blue, and the distant city lights looked like scattered diamonds on the ground.

During his years at Shilan High School, he deliberately avoided Lu Mingfei, even almost erasing all connection to that rainy night. Not out of indifference, but precisely because of a kind of "responsibility" he himself might not have clearly defined. He couldn't be sure whether Lu Mingfei truly possessed dragon blood, or whether he had simply fallen into the nonexistent Nibelungen due to the misfortune of his father and son. If it was the latter, then dragging Lu Mingfei into this real world filled with bloodshed, lies, and struggle was an unforgivable sin.

He chose to stay away, allowing Lu Mingfei to continue his perhaps mediocre but safe "ordinary person" life.

But now, everything is different. Lu Mingfei not only possesses an extremely high bloodline rating, but more importantly—he made a choice and took that step.

Chu Zihang gazed at the gradually emerging gray-white dawn outside the window, as if witnessing a predetermined trajectory finally being firmly and precisely aligned. Lu Mingfei was no longer an irrelevant figure whom he needed to "protect" or "stay away from." From this moment on, they would be students of the same academy.

Kassel College, Principal's Office.

Time seems to lose its meaning here. In the early hours of the morning, all is silent, except for this room at the top of the clock tower, where a selection from Wagner's opera *Der Ring des Nibelungen* still plays softly. The music is grand and poignant, full of metaphors of fate and betrayal.

An elderly man, dressed in a perfectly tailored black bespoke suit and gleaming leather shoes, was deeply seated in a large, high-backed leather chair. His silver-white hair was meticulously combed back, and his face was etched with the deep marks of time, yet every wrinkle seemed to contain a powerful strength. His eyes were closed, and his fingers tapped lightly on the armrests to the rhythm of the music. He didn't resemble a frail old man, but rather a lion dozing in the afternoon sun, ready to pounce and tear its prey apart at any moment.

Hilbert Jean Angers. The principal of the Kassel College, a legend and cornerstone of the hybrid world; his name alone is enough to make many hidden beings hold their breath.

He was waiting. Like the most experienced hunter, he waited for his prey to step into his predetermined path.

Suddenly, a soft, neutral, and emotionless electronic female voice emanated from the hidden speakers that were everywhere in the room:

"Permission verification successful. Special directory option enabled."

Name: Lu Mingfei

Date of birth: February 14, 1992.

Gender: Male.

"Number: AD0013".

"Bloodline Class: 'S' (to be confirmed in the final entrance physical examination)."

Status: Accepted admission and added to the list of new students for the fall semester of 2009 at Kassel College.

"Access to the corresponding database has been enabled. Student accounts are being generated... Course selection template has been generated."