Chapter 17: Ward
Lu Mingfei suddenly felt time slow down…
The screams around him, Bai Ci lying on the ground, the burning Constantine, even the rising black smoke, falling ashes, and swirling flames—all slowed.
An old man stood before him, hands in his pockets, neat white hair, black suit, a bright red rose tucked in his breast pocket.
His face suggested great age, but his posture was undeniably youthful.
“Lu Mingfei, I’ve been looking for you.”
The old man smiled.
“Anghot… Principal!”
Lu Mingfei’s eyes widened.
He glanced back at Constantine rising, his movements sluggish, like a slow-motion film.
Sparks drifted lazily from his body.
Before Lu Mingfei could speak, Anghot handed him a gun—a large-caliber sniper rifle, like the AWM from games he’d played.
Heavy.
“I saw your performance on Free Day.
Your aim is sharp.
I trust you won’t miss this time.”
“There’s a rare bullet in the gun,” Anghot said.
“An alchemical round, crafted from the Philosopher’s Stone.
I’ll explain what that is later.
For now, know it can kill a Dragon King.
Cherish it—one shot, hard to come by.”
Lu Mingfei looked at the sniper rifle in his hands.
A top-tier weapon with an infrared laser scope.
For someone with shooting experience, hitting the target was easy—missing would be the surprise.
The distance wasn’t far.
“But why me?”
He was bewildered.
“Because you were chosen.
Trust your bloodline.
You’re a one-of-a-kind S-rank!
Only you can resist my Yanling: Time Zero.”
The principal drew a folding knife from his suit’s inner pocket.
It was an antique, large, with a refined copper-inlaid wooden handle.
The curved blade bore twisted patterns—a rare Damascus steel knife.
In ancient times, such precious meteorite iron was forged only for heroes’ blades.
Anghot moved like a cheetah, closing the long gap to Constantine in an instant.
He gripped the knife, its blade glinting in the firelight, the twisted patterns like inscriptions on a tombstone.
“Lu Mingfei!”
The principal’s voice exploded through the air.
Lu Mingfei held the sniper rifle, tracking Anghot’s movements.
In the Time Zero domain, only he and Anghot could move normally.
He was Anghot’s only teammate.
Molten lava splashed around Constantine, flames radiating, but slow, like weightless feathers in a deliberately slowed film.
And in this slow-motion scene, the principal was the star!
He was too skilled.
Under Anghot’s blade, Constantine, the Bronze and Fire King, was no different from a lamb awaiting slaughter.
This was the perfect chance Anghot crafted for Lu Mingfei.
One shot with the Philosopher’s Stone bullet to the dragon’s eye, and Lu Mingfei would be the hero who killed Constantine.
He’d entrusted that honor to Lu Mingfei…
Lu Mingfei gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger.
The Philosopher’s Stone bullet left the barrel at a speed his eyes could follow.
Nothing could change now.
He stood tall, lowered the rifle, and watched the bullet drift through the air.
Hit!
Blazing blood burst from the dragon’s eye.
Constantine clutched his forehead, roaring hoarsely.
“Switch to live rounds!”
The principal’s voice rang through every student’s comms.
Gunfire lit up the dark campus.
Thousands of live rounds struck the dragon’s body.
He’d lost his Yanling power to command metal, left to block with his back and wings.
Students swapped magazines relentlessly, firing until empty.
They didn’t dare stop.
Under the ferocious barrage, the dragon stood firm, refusing to fall.
What kind of freakish vitality!
The final bullet left the barrel.
The campus reeked of acrid gunpowder.
Everyone stared at the godlike figure in the smoke, wings spread, still standing.
Old Tang watched too, staring at his face.
The dragon looked like a decayed corpse nailed to a cross, riddled with countless transparent bullet holes.
His flexible dragon bones, without Yanling, were just strong material.
The membrane of his wings shattered, bones and joints crumbling to dust, falling piece by piece.
He no longer glowed, reduced to a dull gray-white.
He smiled wearily at Old Tang.
“Brother…”
*
Bai Ci opened her eyes to bright sunlight.
The air smelled sharply of disinfectant.
She lay in a bed, surrounded by medical equipment.
A black-haired boy sat by her side, peeling an apple with a fruit knife.
He was terrible at it.
The peel fell in chaotic strips, like scattered snowflakes.
The apple was marred with marks, but it didn’t affect the taste.
The pale yellow flesh looked juicy, its aroma enticing.
“You’re awake.
Want some apple?”
Bai Ci nodded, opening her mouth, waiting for him to feed her—mostly because she was exhausted.
Yesterday nearly killed her.
No energy to move… or talk…
She hadn’t eaten in forever… starving!
‘Stop staring!
Feed me already!’
Seeing her open mouth, Lu Mingfei froze, then realized she expected him to feed her.
He shakily placed a decent-looking apple slice near her mouth.
Bai Ci leaned forward, her tongue brushing the fruit.
Her teeth snapped it up, slipping it from his fingers into her mouth.
The apple was sweet and tart, perfect.
Bai Ci squinted contentedly, lounging on the bed like a big cat basking in the sun.
Then she opened her mouth again…
Meaning—keep going.
Lu Mingfei stared, stunned.
Her eyes were closed, lying there.
To feed her, he’d have to put it right in her mouth…
They’d been like brothers for seven or eight years—what was feeding her an apple?
No big deal!
Just treat her like a bro!
Steeling himself, he shoved another piece in.
Maybe too fast.
He felt something hard—her teeth—then something soft and wet…
Bai Ci: “…”
Lu Mingfei: “…”
He was touching her tongue, frozen.
She stared at him, equally stunned.
Then he felt a sharp pain in his finger…
Looking down, his “brother” of eight years had bitten him hard!
Bai Ci let go, leaving deep teeth marks on his fingertip.
He hissed in pain.
‘Big sis, you trying to bite my finger off?’
But seeing her glare, golden pupils flaring, he deflated.
He looked at his finger, wiped off her saliva, and after a moment of grievance, muttered, “S-so… want more?”
Bai Ci obediently opened her mouth.
This time, Lu Mingfei used a fork.