During the Summer Mourning Incident, Anjou had been gravely wounded in the opening moments of Li Wuyue's rampage. Meineke Cassel—recognizing that the young man was more liability than asset in his injured state—had carried him to the manor's reinforced cellar for protection. Everything Anjou learned about Li Wuyue's identity came from lying helpless in that underground chamber, listening to the muffled conversation between Meineke Cassel and the awakened Dragon King filtering down through layers of stone and earth.
To fight the resurrected Li Wuyue, both Meineke Cassel and Lu Shanyan had employed the forbidden technique of bloodrage—a method that used sheer willpower to deliberately suppress human genes while amplifying draconic ones. The result was a temporary but massive surge in power that could elevate a hybrid to near-Dragon King levels.
In ancient times, when dragons ruled humanity like gods, this technique had been called the Road to Deification. Successfully walking that road transformed a person into something approaching a pure dragon—power comparable to the first-generation species, the four Dragon Kings themselves.
The technique had terrified the Dragon Clan's Elder Council so profoundly that they'd banned it entirely. The knowledge was lost for millennia until the Lionheart Society rediscovered and refined it, renaming it bloodrage.
Anjou had no way to know how many times Meineke Cassel and Lu Shanyan activated bloodrage during their battle with Li Wuyue. The cellar's thick walls muffled too much detail. But he was certain of one thing: to defeat Li Wuyue, both men had pushed themselves into draconic transformation. And at the battle's climax, Meineke Cassel had unleashed his Word Spirit.
Even now, a century later, Anjou couldn't identify which Word Spirit it had been. Perhaps Rhine. Perhaps Candle Dragon. Whatever its nature, the power had been apocalyptic—comparable to a high-yield explosive detonating at ground zero.
Only the manor's extraordinarily robust construction and Meineke Cassel's deliberate effort to shield the cellar had saved Anjou's life. Even with those protections, the shockwave had nearly killed him. The manor itself was obliterated—reduced to rubble and ash. Anjou had spent an entire year in a coma before finally opening his eyes again.
As for Li Wuyue... Anjou had never confirmed his fate. Subjectively, he believed the Dragon King must be dead. No one could survive Meineke Cassel's ultimate Word Spirit at point-blank range. But objectively, there had never been a body. Never any definitive proof. Li Wuyue might still be alive somewhere, wounded and hiding.
When news arrived that the dragon in Kunlun was the King of Sky and Wind, Anjou's first instinct was immediate recognition: Li Wuyue. The Dragon King who'd destroyed the Lionheart Society a century ago. Though Li Wuyue's true identity had never been definitively confirmed, every piece of circumstantial evidence suggested he was indeed the King of Sky and Wind.
The most compelling evidence was geographic. Kunlun and the former Western Xia territory were remarkably close. Anjou still remembered the distinctive tone in Li Wuyue's voice when he'd spoken to Meineke Cassel about his homeland—a nostalgia so profound it transcended species, transcended the centuries.
He also remembered Meineke Cassel asking Li Wuyue about his dragon name. The response had been telling: "I've forgotten it. Names are merely designations. I am Li Wuyue."
The more Anjou considered it, the more certain he became. Meineke Cassel and Lu Shanyan hadn't killed Li Wuyue. After destroying the Lionheart Society, the wounded Dragon King had returned to his homeland—only to find Western Xia long since destroyed, his kingdom erased from history. So he'd gone to Kunlun instead, to the great mountains that had stood since the world was young.
The appearance or awakening of a Dragon King should cause massive disturbances—earthquakes, atmospheric anomalies, the kind of phenomena that couldn't be hidden. Yet the King of Sky and Wind in Kunlun had gone undetected until achieving complete form. That seemed impossible... unless the Dragon King hadn't just awakened. If Li Wuyue had been hiding and healing for a century, slowly regenerating his full power over decades, then the gradual process might have remained beneath detection thresholds.
Everything fit. The timeline. The location. The behavior.
Anjou leaned forward, his projected image conveying intensity despite the holographic medium. "I believe Kunlun's King of Sky and Wind is Li Wuyue from a century ago."
Ji Liuping's eyebrows rose. "Principal Anjou, what makes you so certain?"
Secretary Zhang's attention sharpened, his full focus now on the elderly dragonslayer.
"Let me explain." Anjou proceeded to lay out every piece of evidence—the geographic proximity to Western Xia, Li Wuyue's nostalgic attachment to his homeland, the absence of a confirmed death, the century-long gap allowing for recovery, the lack of awakening phenomena that would accompany a newly-emerged Dragon King.
When he finished, both Ji Liuping and Secretary Zhang nodded slowly.
"All available evidence supports your conclusion," Ji Liuping acknowledged. "Kunlun's King of Sky and Wind is most likely Li Wuyue."
Secretary Zhang's expression hardened into something resembling carved stone. "Whether he's Li Wuyue or not is ultimately irrelevant to our strategic response. The appearance of a complete Dragon King represents an existential threat to China and potentially the entire world. We must mobilize every available resource to destroy him in Kunlun before he can act."
The statement hung in the air, brutal in its clarity.
Li Wuyue had shown no overt hostility. He'd made no aggressive moves in a century of hiding. By all appearances, he simply wanted to be left alone in his mountain sanctuary.
But millennia of bitter experience had taught humanity an immutable truth: dragons must be eliminated. This was a war between species that predated civilization itself. There could be no negotiation, no coexistence, no mercy. And with the ancient prophecy of the Black King's resurrection looming—the promise of a world-cleansing apocalypse—humanity couldn't afford to let any Dragon King survive.
In the war between humans and dragons, there was no room for saints or mercy.
No one in the conference room objected to Secretary Zhang's declaration. They'd all made peace with what needed to be done long ago.
"Secretary Zhang." Ji Liuping straightened in his projection, speaking with formal weight. "I will contact every mixed-blood family in China. In this war against the King of Sky and Wind, the Chinese hybrid community will shirk no responsibility. You have my word."
It was a military oath, spoken on behalf of every bloodline family in the nation. Chen Yingfeng, sitting physically in the room, nodded his agreement. The families would answer the call.
"Secretary Zhang." Anjou's voice carried equal gravity. "Subject to official approval, Cassel College and the Secret Party will provide full support for this operation."
The unspoken truth was that even without approval, Anjou would come anyway. Li Wuyue was his white whale—the nightmare that had haunted him for a hundred years. This was personal.
"China welcomes Cassel College and the Secret Party's support." Secretary Zhang's tone was diplomatic but pragmatic. "We face the complete King of Sky and Wind—the most powerful dragon humanity has encountered in recorded history. China's forces alone could potentially destroy him, but the cost would be catastrophic. And we have too many enemies watching for signs of weakness. We need allies to ensure that dragon-slaying doesn't leave us vulnerable to human threats."
A moment of silence followed as everyone processed the multilayered chess game they were playing—fighting dragons while maintaining geopolitical strength against rival nations.
Then Chen Yingfeng, who'd been quietly observing until now, spoke with a faint smile. "By the way, Principal Anjou... there seems to be one detail you haven't shared yet."
"Oh?" Anjou's expression was perfectly innocent. "What detail might that be?"
"Don't play games." Chen Yingfeng's smile didn't waver, but his tone sharpened. "When facing the King of Sky and Wind, we're all on the same side. There's no benefit to holding back information."
He leaned forward slightly. "You helped us eliminate that mysterious contractor named Ladon last time. Don't you think you should tell us something about the man who killed him? The one calling himself 'Ultraman'?"
Chen Yingfeng mentally cursed the old fox. They were preparing for war against a Dragon King, and Anjou was still playing information-trading games.
"Oh! Mr. Gustave!" Anjou's face lit up with theatrical realization. "If you hadn't mentioned him, I nearly forgot."
It was a blatant lie. Anjou had always intended to reveal Gustave's existence—Chen Motong had sent her report back to China with his tacit approval, after all. But there was a difference between volunteering information and being asked for it. The latter provided negotiating leverage.
The original agreement with China had covered division of spoils from a second-generation dragon. But a complete Dragon King represented exponentially greater value. New stakes required new negotiations.
Over the next hour, the three parties engaged in what could charitably be called a "friendly discussion" and more accurately described as calculated bargaining. When the dust settled, they'd reached a new accord: upon successful dragon-slaying, China would receive sixty percent of the spoils—the Dragon King's body, blood, materials, and whatever treasures lay in the Nibelungen. Cassel College, the Secret Party, and any other forces that joined the coalition would split the remaining forty percent.
Secretary Zhang accepted the terms with a slight nod. "Agreed. Now, about this mysterious contractor..."
Anjou smiled. Time to reveal his ace in the hole.
"His name is Gustave," Anjou began. "And he may be the key to victory."