Dragons begin with courage

The cold light from the computer screen illuminated Lu Mingfei's face. He sat in a makeshift room on the third floor of the abandoned textile factory, taking a rare break. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before finally clicking on the jumping panda icon.

"Hey, you loser, what have you been up to lately? Haven't logged into StarCraft for two months." Old Tang's QQ message popped up, followed by a panda emoji with a cigarette in its mouth and a smug expression.

Lu Mingfei glanced at his QQ contact list. Apart from Lao Tang, the entire list was deathly silent. The literary society's group chat history hadn't been updated in six months—after Chen Wenwen and Zhao Menghua's official announcement, the group seemed to have lost its soul, and after graduation, it became completely silent. No messages, no greetings, not even the holiday wishes pushed by the system.

In the past eighteen years of my life, the only person I could call a "friend" was an online friend who was separated from me by the ocean and whom I had never met.

This realization brought a bitter feeling to Lu Mingfei's heart, but the fact that Lao Tang's avatar was still flashing gave him a strange warmth—at least someone still cared about his existence.

He opened his chat history with Lao Tang, and the screen was filled with messages like "Want to play a game?", "Where are you?", and "Playing dead again?", spanning from half a month ago until yesterday. Lu Mingfei's fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds before typing a reply:

"I haven't done much. University has started, and the courses are incredibly demanding. For the past two months, I've been spending all my time in the lab with my senior classmates, staring at microscopes and petri dishes every day." He simplified the alchemy lab at Kassel College to a regular university biology lab, and described the dragon-slaying training as a research project.

You can't exactly tell Old Tang that he's been getting beaten black and blue every day for the past two months, learning how to cut open dragon scales with a knife, and how to survive in the distorted spacetime of Nibelungen.

Old Tang sent a panda emoji of someone sprawled on the ground with a "Starving to death" message floating above their head: "You're only replying now! I was starting to think you'd been abducted by aliens!"

Lu Mingfei smiled and typed: "Want to play a game?"

The other person replied instantly with a tearful emoji: "Look at my status below my profile picture—online! I'm out taking jobs, or I'll starve. Do you think everyone's as free as a college student like you?"

Lu Mingfei gave an "OK" sign. Yes, everyone's an adult now. Old Tang has to make a living, and he has to face things more cruel than just making a living—fate, bloodline, and those ancient beings lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment.

He closed the chat window and his gaze fell on the date in the lower right corner of the screen:

2010 2 Month 13 Day.

The day before Lunar New Year's Eve.

It is also the scheduled execution date for Kassel College's "Bronze Project".

At this moment, Lu Mingfei was unaware that in this seemingly ordinary late night, the gears of fate were meshing and turning in ways he could not imagine—including his most cherished online friendship, and Old Tang, who always called him "loser" and invited him to play games late at night, were all carefully placed pieces on a huge chessboard.

At the same time, in China, at the Three Gorges of the Yangtze River.

The precipitous section of the river, formerly known as "Kuimen," is unusually calm tonight. Boats waiting to pass through the locks rest silently on the water, their lights casting fragmented spots of light on the dark surface. The river reflects the sparse stars and moon, and the rushing water echoes through the canyon, evoking ancient legends about the Kui dragon and Baidi City that have been passed down for thousands of years.

On a secluded cliff nearly 300 meters above the river, a man crouched in the shadows of the rocks, holding the latest Nokia N97. The screen's light illuminated his distinctive face—naturally smiling, drooping eyebrows, pure Chinese-style black hair, and those lively eyes that were always looking for fun.

Ronald Tang, or rather, "Old Tang" as Lu Mingfei is familiar with.

But at this moment, Lao Tang is not the netizen who plays games late at night and complains about not having enough money to live on. He is a well-known bounty hunter in the North American underground community, taking on all sorts of gray-area jobs, from finding missing persons to providing protection, and occasionally getting involved in some less-than-legal "item recycling".

Tonight's "job" was priced so high that he couldn't refuse.

"So we're just going to squat here and watch the show?" Old Tang asked without looking up, his fingers flying across the keyboard on his phone—he was replying to Lu Mingfei's message.

"Be patient, bounty hunter." A cool female voice came from behind him.

From the shadows, Mai Shude emerged. She had changed out of her usual eye-catching attire, now wearing a pure black tactical bodysuit, her curves still clearly defined in the night. Her long hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and her face was painted with anti-reflective paint; only her eyes remained sharp as knives.

She was also holding a cell phone, but it wasn't a Nokia; it was a specially encrypted Blackberry. The screen was lit up, displaying real-time communications on an encrypted channel.

"According to plan, the people from Kassel have already reached the Nibelungen region." Mai Shude glanced at the Moniach, the ship bearing the Kassel College insignia, faintly visible in the distance on the river. "But was it really necessary for the boss to arrange something so...dramatic this time?"

My phone vibrated; a new message popped up. The sender's ID was just a simple letter, "S".

"The original plan was unexpectedly disrupted, so this time we must ensure everything goes perfectly. Although the 'key' is not here, someone still has to open the 'lock'."

Mai raised an eyebrow and typed a reply: "Is everything ready on the Sanwu side?"

"She will give you the coordinates. Remember, your task is not to confront her directly, but to ensure that the 'door' opens the way we need it."

"Sounds like Infernal Affairs." Mai Shude's lips curled into a playful smile.

"Infernal Affairs has traitors on both sides. Are you doubting my loyalty?" S replied quickly.

"I didn't say that." Mai put away her phone and looked at Old Tang. "Hey, bounty hunter, stop chatting. The target is about to appear."

As the words fell, more dark figures emerged from the shadows of the rock wall. Including Old Tang, there were thirteen men in total, all dressed in identical black combat uniforms, well-equipped, and silent. These men were not students of Kassel, nor were they private soldiers of any known mixed-race family—they were employees of "The Company," a professional team operating in the gray area.

Tonight, their mission is to ensure that something in Bronze City doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

Or rather, ensuring that those things end up in the right hands.

On the river, the Moniach.

The heavily modified research vessel was brightly lit, yet eerily quiet. No sailors loitered on deck, and the light streaming through the portholes was filtered into a dim, warm yellow by thick privacy film. The entire ship resembled a colossal beast lurking on the river's surface, holding its breath in suspense.

Inside the cabin, Professor Manstein glanced at his watch, took a deep breath, and dialed an overseas call. He pressed the speakerphone button and placed the phone in the center of the control panel.

"It is now 10:47 PM on February 13, 2010, the eve of the Chinese Lunar New Year. The Moniach is anchored at the predetermined coordinates in the Three Gorges Reservoir. The river is calm, all equipment is functioning normally, and personnel are in position. Tonight, we will execute the special operation 'Bronze Gate.' I am the commander of this operation, Manstein."

He paused, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet command center: "Requesting the Board of Trustees to give final operational instructions."

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone. Then, the principal of Angers' voice came through, calm, steady, and carrying an absolute composure born of experience:

"Mission approved. May you all have good fortune in battle."