Dragon Clan: Thought So Far.

Chapter 225 224. Commitment

In the outer suburbs of Chicago, amidst the howling wind, a classical European-style manor stood in the depths of the wilderness. The tall trees surrounding this old building had begun to wither, and the dry tumbleweeds were blown by the wind like swarms of tumbleweeds. Cows and sheep galloping across the field.

This is the private domain of Federis von Henkel. From the Western Development Period to the present, the power and majesty of the dark side of rule has radiated from this manor to the entire mixed-race society in North America.

Excessive industrialization and mineral mining have resulted in serious desertification in this area. The road stretches from the end of the yellow sand towards the No. 1 Scholar like a dark yellow river, and then crosses the building and enters deeper into the wilderness, looking up towards the city of Chicago. You can't see anything except dead trees rising from the horizon like ghost claws.

For many years, this manor has been a sacred place in the eyes of North American mixed-race people. They surrounded the noble Han Gao like loyal courtiers surrounding their emperor. When the place was most prosperous, the sand outside the manor was filled with cars with a total value of more than 200 million. The tarmac is packed with US dollar luxury cars, and helicopters from Mexico and the southeastern United States can only land on the hard sand.

But today the place is solemn and quiet.

Behind this manor stands a private Catholic church. It is said to be private because there are not many people who come here to worship. There are no more than fifteen people in the world who are qualified to enter this church. But it actually covers an extremely large area. The Gothic-style church spires are like sharp swords reaching into the sky. They are spread out and are quite majestic and condescending.

The name of this church is St. Peter's Church in Chicago, which is not unusual. There are not even 100 but 80 Catholic churches named after St. Peter in the world.

There is a statue of the Virgin Mary standing in the chapel of the church. However, it does not have the usual loving appearance and dignified face. Instead, it looks like a glaring King Kong with anger and rage. He holds a spear in his left hand and a sword in his right hand in a cross. When you approach here, you can smell the smell of blood. The clanging swords buzzed.

The statue of the Virgin is located exactly in the center of the chapel. Four short corridors, front, rear, left and right, extend to different exits. There are rows of benches in the front, and heavy, barren sarcophagi are lined up on both sides of the other short corridors.

These coffins cannot be called exquisite, and are even quite rough. They are as clumsily carved as knives and axes, but they are heavy and seem to have been piled up for a long time. The sides of the coffins are carved with ravines with sharp chisels. The ravines and ravines form the life of the deceased buried in them. Date of death and surname.

Catholicism allows believers to be buried in churches, but usually those who are qualified to do so were important figures during their lifetimes. For example, the Milan Cathedral in Rome, where the successive heads and matrons of the Gattuso family are buried. Caesar would go there every year to mourn his mother, the graceful woman named Gullweger.

In the past, there would be dedicated clergy here to clean and serve the deceased, but today the church is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop. The marble floor is illuminated, and the bright sunlight shines through the cut glass on the dome, making the coffin so beautiful. Sacred and solemn.

Only the rickety old man sat in the middle of the last row of benches in the chapel, making a prayer gesture, with a solemn and quiet expression. He was wearing a black funeral dress, with white flowers on his chest, and the light filtered through the cut-glass windows. His shoulders were mottled, clearly a pious gesture, but on his knees was a huge revolver with the paint worn off. The muzzle of the gun was so big that one doubted that this thing could kill an African elephant with one shot. skull.

"Today I pray for the souls who are still in purgatory after death, hoping that through our humble prayers they will join the company of the saints as soon as possible."

"Amen."

Henkel completed his prayer and slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, the heavy twilight aura disappeared from his body, replaced by anger and sharpness as resolute as a mountain, as if he was sitting here. Not a dying old man, but a sharp and graceful cowboy.

The wrinkled palm rubbed the revolver that had been with him for nearly a hundred years. The cloudy pupils were like burning flames at this moment. The long-dormant dragon's blood was slowly awakened in the old man's blood vessels, and his skin began to gradually become rosy, The wrinkles have lightened, and even the already rickety back is straightened.

He had made a promise to someone, and now the time was coming when the creditor required him to fulfill his promise.

Sometimes you owe someone a favor and you have to pay it back with your life. Henkel is a businessman. He values ​​his reputation more than his own life, so he is willing to do what he is asked to do for the creditor.

"Do you know who you remind me of now?" Another old man's voice approached along the corridor outside the door with crisp footsteps. Just by listening to his voice, you could tell that he was a very happy guy, and his tone was brisk. , but his steps were steady, as if he was walking towards an old friend he hadn't seen for a long time.

"Who?" Han Gao didn't even raise his head. The security measures in this manor are as tight as those of Kassel Academy. More than twenty outstanding hybrids who can subdue the same number of special forces in an instant monitor every move around it. The maids and housekeepers are also top-notch experts. , Logically speaking, even if the Delta Special Forces wanted to come here, it would be a foolish dream, but he was not surprised at all by who came.

"Carl von Gambert, we called him Marquis Gambert a long time ago. He fought alongside us in that turbulent era." Angers pushed open the oak door, which was bright and even sharp. The light reflected him, stretching the straight shadow to an extremely long length, even completely covering the statue of the Virgin.

He sat down next to Henkel and also made a praying posture.

"I parked the car at the door. Ask your people to help move it." Ange's tone was very casual. Veins on Hengao's forehead jumped, but he still made arrangements through his mobile phone.

Hilbert Jean Angers, the undisputed strongest man in the hybrid world, the dictator of the Camarilla for hundreds of years, and the strangler of dragon civilization.

He had many names, but here at Henkel he was just Angers.

In the eyes of many people, the two men, respectively the leader of the Camarilla and the leader of the North American hybrids, should be incompatible. Historically, these two groups, representing the largest organizations in the hybrid world, have been on the verge of war more than once. Every time Angers and Henkel both quarreled fiercely in the chamber and even fist-fighted, but in the end they both chose peace over war.

The principal of Kassel College was wearing a black suit and windbreaker today, holding a cigar in his mouth and a dark red rose on his chest. He looked more like an old British gentleman who still had charm than Henkel, who was in his twilight years.

"You finally look a bit like my old friends now." After Angers prayed, he made a relaxed gesture and slowly exhaled a puff of smoke.

There was also a hint of memory in Henkel's eyes. The name of Marquis Gambert, like all the members of the original Lionheart Society, has shone brightly in the entire history of dragon slaying. The old man, who was even older than Angers and Henkel, was not in the fighting force, but he died heroically in the Korean War. The dragons are charging.

That was many years ago. During the Summer Mourning Incident, the first-generation species was suspected to be resurrected. A fierce war broke out between Deadpool from the East and the first-generation Lionheart Society. The most powerful dragon slayer at the time, Meineke Cassel, and The first generation of the species perished together.

The Marquis of Gambet was also martyred in that tragedy.

"You still retain the habit of mourning those who died." Angers said, his eyes swept over a square coffin, and a trace of sadness flowed from the corners of his eyes under the brown lenses.

Henkel didn't look much shorter than Angers at this time. His disciples and grandsons would be shocked when they saw this scene. Many people in Chicago were looking forward to Henkel's death, and his body was indeed weakening during the day. He is getting more and more stooped. In the eyes of outsiders, this old man is not a monarch like Angers who can hold power until the day he dies. He will soon leave the core of power.

But now is what Henkel really looks like. His pedigree is not inferior to that of Angers, and he was equally active in the era when Angers was active. The difference is that Ange hates the dragon clan and seems to want to use the fire in his heart to burn the whole world with dragons. And Henkel doesn't mind doing business with dragons. Many of the fourth and fifth generation species who can restrain their bloodthirsty desires are friends of this old businessman.

"How could I forget? Some people use fire to burn themselves to death to mourn their deceased friends, such as you Angers. But some people are more practical. I set up tombstones for them and pray day and night, praying that our old friends can go to heaven. Heaven instead of hell." Henkel's voice was old, calm, but frighteningly cold.

He stared at the coffin closest to the statue of the Virgin. The sarcophagus was so crude, but the back of a woman was carefully carved on the coffin lid. The sculptor's skills were obviously superb. He actually carved out the slender and graceful figure of the woman and also cared for her. With the addition of a thin gauze skirt, there are rising flames all around, and every blooming spark is the wailing face of an evil ghost.

Henkel built a huge foundation in Chicago, but he never married or left any children.

His body is very healthy, otherwise he would not live to be 130 years old. His reproductive function is also very strong, but he has never thought of spreading his branches.

"The Trieste will arrive in Tokyo Bay in a week." Angers said suddenly, and he looked away. Angers knew who was in the coffin. He had not had many companions in his life, and Henkel was definitely half of them. There were few unspeakable secrets between them.

"I know." Henkel said,

"That little guy has been passing information to me. I guess your artificial intelligence is also monitoring our conversations all the time, right?" Henkel also found a cigar, tapped the upper of his shoe to make the tobacco tighter, and then He sniffed the cigar back and forth with his nostrils and let out a long sigh of admiration.

"With the authority level of the Disciplinary Committee, it is impossible to monitor S-class black cards." Angre smiled, "But I can."

"I heard that you owe Lu Mingfei a favor." Angers finally looked at Henkel beside him. Henkel's right index finger was tapping the bench rhythmically. He shrugged, and the mellow smoke slowly rose from the lit cigar. gas.

"Well, thanks to this little guy, we have the opportunity to be involved in the Camarilla's research project on dragon corpses. Through this opportunity, both you and we have made great progress in the fields we are advancing in."

"Mingfei told me this, but you are willing to spend your money." Ange sneered.

A smile appeared on Henkel's face: "When I first met him, I felt that he was not like you when you were young, but more like me when I was young, so I am willing to help him."

Of course, the secret party will not refuse the request of the North American mixed-race society. They are not enemies in the first place. In other words, when facing a common enemy, mixed-race and mixed-race species will of course join forces to fight, especially in this era where the Dragon King is resurrected. .

If Henkel really wanted to get involved in the research on the next-generation dragon corpse, then he only needed to bow slightly to Angers, and he didn't even need to pay much to get this privilege.

"What does he want you to do?" Angers asked with interest.

"Kill a man and invite me and the college to share that unexplored land." Henkel hummed an ancient song, and the tune was distant and silent, like a product of the eighteenth century, but also like aria.

Ange's eyes narrowed. What does it mean to share that undeveloped land with the college? Lu Mingfei is trying to guide the power of North American hybrids into Japan, and he seems to really want to overthrow the rule of the Snake Qihachi family.

"When are you going to leave?"

"The day the Trieste arrived in Tokyo Bay." Henkel stared at the statue of the Virgin, and the dappled sunlight falling on the old man's body felt somewhat sacred for a moment.

Angers nodded thoughtfully.

"You should still remember the Kuimen Project initiated by the college and completed by Lu Mingfei, right?"

"Isn't that your secret? How would I know?"

"Dear Mr. Henkel is covering the sky with only one hand in the North American area. I don't believe you haven't placed your own spies in the academy." Angers' iron-gray eyes unique to the Aryans glanced at Henkel coldly.

But the latter just shrugged.

"At first, Lu Mingfei rejected our task request because he believed that a task of this level should not fall on a freshman. As a bargaining chip to make him tempted, I promised to do something for him. Only then did we achieve the final victory of the Kuimen Project." Ange slowly told the story of a year ago. Like Henkel, he upheld his credibility. Since he agreed to do something that Lu Mingfei wanted to do, he Will definitely do it.

"It's so interesting. Mingfei wants you to kill someone, but he also wants me to help him protect someone." Angers whistled, the cigar burning slowly between his fingers.

"I don't know who I want to kill yet, but I think it should be related to that one." Henkel was still rubbing his revolver. "This is a fatal job, and it conflicts with our plan."

"It doesn't matter, everything is still business as usual." Angers smiled, "Compared to your ignorance of what to do next, I know who I should be looking at."

"Who?"

"A little girl named Uesugi."

"Are you a descendant of Uesugoshi?" Henkel's face showed a hint of nostalgia, but Angers had already stood up. This old guy who was 130 years old and still active on the front line of the battlefield came to the window and looked at the long yellow sand in the distance. Horizon, he waved his hand: "I don't know, maybe it is, or it may be a fake. You know he has never thought about leaving an heir for the Eight Sheqi Family."

"What do they call that thing? Emperor, right?"

"A very conceited title, but very appropriate." Angers did not deny it.

Then the small chapel fell into a long silence.

"Ange, have you thought about what to do next? Many things are beyond your control, and the future no longer seems to be what you thought." Henkel asked suddenly. He was not worried that this conversation would be blocked. Eavesdropping, this is his territory.

"Well, I have some ideas." Angers said without thinking, but acted as confident as before.

Henkel's eyebrows knitted together: "What does Flamel think of this?"

Angers put the cigar in his mouth again:

"He supports all my decisions."

"Including what you are doing now?"

"Including what I'm doing now."

Henkel took a deep breath, leaned back on his chair again, and stared deeply at the back of the window.

"How long until that day?"

It was a long time before Angers said: "I'm counting down."

Henkel's pupils shrank suddenly. After a few seconds, the old man who straightened his back slowly closed his eyes. His spine seemed to be bending again at this moment.

(End of this chapter)