Chapter Ninety-Nine: Conflict

Three days later, at 19.6 degrees east longitude and 23.6 degrees north latitude.

This was a land where yellow sands filled the sky, a land that had been embroiled in war not for three hundred years, but for three thousand—fought over faith, territory, population, ideals, and oil, with unrelenting madness.

In this chaotic place, firearms were the only order. Today, two squads, each arriving from different directions, were simultaneously heading toward a cave steeped in strange legends.

On the left side were five men, all uniformly clad in long black trench coats. Each wore oversized black sunglasses, and each carried a briefcase marked with an emblem of a half-withered giant tree.

Though it was winter, the desert heat was still fierce. Yet, despite the arduous journey, not a single drop of sweat marred their faces.

On the right side were three figures. Their lower faces were wrapped in white cloths, dressed in standard desert camouflage. Slung on their backs were sleek black assault rifles. At their waists hung Pfeifer-Zeliska revolvers, renowned for their formidable recoil. These firearms boasted a muzzle velocity of 620 meters per second, nearly twice the speed of sound—one shot enough to fell large beasts.

Perhaps due to the swirling sandstorms or their positions, neither group noticed the other at first. Thus, at the cave’s entrance, these representatives of opposing factions unexpectedly confronted one another.

The eight eyed each other warily, clearly surprised to encounter a rival faction here.

“We are Cassel College,” the larger group declared first. One stepped forward halfway, speaking in English—the most universally understood language—prompted by the unmistakably Western features of the trio opposite.

“This place was found by us first,” the three men slowly spread out, their left hands poised to draw weapons at a moment’s notice. The one in the center, known by the moniker “Rattlesnake,” Walker Finn, spoke.

As a renowned top-tier mercenary on hunter forums, Walker was familiar with Cassel College and could roughly guess their purpose here. But knowing this only steeled their resolve to hold their ground.

Their leader had explicitly instructed them: once confirmed, there was no turning back.

Moreover, having drunk the divine blood and risen anew, this trio had long been eager to test just how much stronger they had become.

All comrades from the same faction, a fight to the death among themselves was discouraged. The mercenary, lacking intelligence, was hardly a fair test of their true progress.

Thus, facing the contemptuous Cassel College—who looked down on ordinary folk—the three simultaneously felt a surge of competitive spirit.

Chinese? Could they be kin?

Realizing the language spoken, they were astonished that these Westerners had learned a tongue so unfriendly to them.

The five on the left thought the same. One pulled down his visor to reveal golden irises.

This was Cassel College’s best method of identifying their mixed-blood brethren.

If these truly were kindred from some unknown mixed-blood family, then they might let them pass.

A command crackled through the miniature earpieces on their sunglasses. Since the academy was funded by multiple families, Cassel College rarely struck against other clans.

After all, these were their patrons.

But this time, they had chosen the wrong approach.

Bang!

Caught by a sound imperceptible to ordinary ears, a hand gesture was made.

Within less than a tenth of a second, three gunshots rang out simultaneously. Before the remaining two could react, the trio—with snake-like vertical pupils—swiftly drew their rifles and opened fire at superhuman speed.

Precise and steady.

With physiques strong enough to disregard recoil, countless rounds fired, and natural talent, the three wielded their assault rifles with the accuracy of snipers. In just three seconds, they shattered the hands and feet of all five adversaries.

However, the C-level bloodline of these five from Cassel College’s enforcement unit left them utterly defenseless under such assault. They were quickly disarmed and captured alive.

“What now?” asked Dorin, endowed with extraordinary hearing, the one who had caught the faint sound.

“This is said to be the relic of the third generation of the Earth and Mountain King’s line. Given their strength, they shouldn’t pose a challenge,” Walker said. “Dolphin, stay and interrogate for information. Bat and I will scout and then leave.”

The information provided by Shami was precise. Calling it a relic was apt—there was no trace of habitation at all.

Half an hour later, carrying all objects that appeared artificial, the three swiftly withdrew from the scene, leaving behind a few delayed-action grenades to obliterate all evidence.

An hour later, a matte black SUV arrived at the site.

“Damn,” muttered B-level agent Conard, gazing at the now utterly erased relic. “Who the hell are these people? Such ruthless force.”

“Quick, quick! There might still be a chance to save them.”

After some rudimentary treatment, the agents—still barely clinging to life thanks to the mixed-blood’s powerful vitality—were carefully loaded into the SUV along with a severed arm nearby, partially buried under a thin layer of sand.

...

Eleven time zones away, Illinois, USA, the Cassel College headquarters.

The professors on duty exchanged glances as three pairs of massive serpentine vertical pupils appeared on the projector, flooding the screen with torrents of data.

“Unlike the golden-eyed serpentine vertical pupils, this is the first discovery of a special bloodline.”

Just then, the college principal, Gilbert Jean Ange—resting on campus—arrived. He lifted his head to regard the three pairs of pupils distinctly different from their own.

This centenarian, still active worldwide and standing at the forefront against the dragon clans, stared thoughtfully at the previously undiscovered serpentine pupils.

Upon his arrival, the cacophony that had filled the central control room vanished instantly. Everyone awaited this formidable man’s decision.

Since Cassel College’s founding, nothing like this had ever occurred. They were all kin; even when encountering relics, they resolved disputes amicably, each yielding for the good of all.

A sudden outbreak of violence before any word was exchanged was unheard of—especially involving this special bloodline.

Could this be the fabled mark of the White King’s bloodline?

Since all supernatural phenomena over tens of thousands of years were linked to the dragons, Cassel College had never considered a scenario divorced from the dragon lineage.

“What happened to the enforcement unit boys?” Ange sighed unusually.

“They were treated promptly; their lives are stable for now. But their arms—blood vessels at injury sites have sealed. They can never be reattached. They might be bedridden for life,” said Von Schneider, head of the enforcement unit, his face grim, voice hoarse under heavy breaths.

“Calm, calm. Since they struck first, it means these enemies will not remain silent. We will find them,” Ange closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, his tone even.

“No one harms our young men without paying the price. No one...”