Dragon Raja: History Simulator

Page 115

However, moral judgment cannot put food on the table. Apart from these "pure black" tasks that Old Tang was unwilling to take on, none of the "gray" zone tasks that he originally favored were left for him.

He sighed, remembering the rent due tomorrow.

With gritted teeth and a determined step, they finally chose the last resort left to the masses by the free world—selling their blood.

So, Lao Tang shut down the website, got up, put on his clothes, and went to the blood bank.

Surprisingly, there were very few people queuing at the blood bank today, as if it were reserved specifically for Old Tang.

Old Tang didn't think too much about it; he just stared at the numbers on the whiteboard at the entrance of the blood bank—"Today's blood donation compensation: $500."

This amount is enough for him to get by next month.

However, on his way to the blood bank, a voice in his heart cried out, "How could you do this?" "To have fallen so low," protesting against this act of selling his blood for a few hundred dollars.

But soon, that authoritative voice faded from his mind; one must always bow to reality!

Old Tang sighed.

He arrived at the makeshift shed and couldn't help but shiver. The air conditioning was on full blast. The doctor, dressed in a white nurse's uniform, was surprisingly beautiful, which surprised him. He remembered that the blood bank was usually run by a plump black woman who looked down on Chinese people like him.

Before he could think further, the pretty nurse handed him a stack of forms.

"Fill it out carefully, especially the medical history and allergy history sections."

"Can't I sell my blood if I have a medical history?" Old Tang asked blankly. This was his first time selling blood here. He usually made a decent living as a "hunter".

This time, however, it was only because he hadn't taken on any work for three consecutive months that he ended up in this situation.

However, Lao Tang believed that this was just a coincidence. It was impossible that he would also be unable to find work at the "Hunter Market" next month.

Impossible, absolutely impossible.

The pretty nurse gave a mocking look, as if she were ridiculing Old Tang's naiveté.

"What a joke! Does having a medical history mean you can't have your blood drained?"

Chapter 179 Holy Grail

It has to be said that Old Tang was stunned.

Immediately afterwards, he was subjected to a series of tests by the beautiful nurse in front of him, like a puppet on a string: a simple physical examination, lowering his blood pressure, and measuring his heart rate.

The nurse looked at the blood pressure monitor and frowned slightly: "Your blood pressure is a little low."

Old Tang mumbled a reply, then stammered, "Since the quality of the blood doesn't affect its sale, why is a medical examination still necessary?"

The Dragon King had been struck by the iron fist of capitalism and hadn't quite caught up yet. He subconsciously asked this question, which was really a bit of a disservice to his ten years of experience as an immigrant in the United States.

The pretty nurse looked at him with disdain and said, "How stupid! There are different kinds of blood. Healthy, fresh blood is sold to the wealthy at high prices; that's how they make a living..."

As she spoke, the nurse fell silent, as if she were thinking of the vampire-like elders in her family. The oldest of them was said to be nearly three hundred years old, who had once stood beside Emperor Napoleon and shared his glory, and had even participated in the founding ceremony of the United States.

Old Tang didn't notice the nurse's silence. He nodded silently, feeling that he had gained some new knowledge.

At this moment, he started to miss his hometown.

In the silence, as the nurse prepared to prick his fingertip to draw blood for a rapid test, something unusual happened.

The nurse used a disposable lancet, which was very sharp. She skillfully pricked a vein in his arm, but the expected drop of blood did not gush out immediately.

The nurse made a sound of surprise, but didn't seem too surprised, and pressed down a little harder.

Just then, Lao Tang felt a very slight stinging sensation at his fingertips, but deeper down, it was as if something had been touched, and a faint, almost imperceptible stream of heat emanated from the point of contact.

He felt a domineering, king-like voice deep in his memory constantly cursing him as a "fool" and a "fool," but the voice quickly vanished in resentful anger.

Then, blood slowly seeped out from the tube in the nurse's hand. Under the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, the crimson color seemed to be mixed with a very faint, almost indistinguishable dark golden luster, like gold dust buried in dormant volcanic ash.

The nurse didn't seem to pay much attention; she simply used a cotton swab to collect the blood sample and placed it in the cryo-chamber.

Old Tang felt a wave of weakness wash over him, and then he heard the nurse tell him, "You'll be feeling a bit cold lately, so please take good care of yourself."

Old Tang's lips twitched as he watched the nurse draw blood.

Isn't that right? You took 800 milliliters of my blood at once, isn't it normal for my body to feel cold?

At this moment, the whispers in his mind had faded away, and the ancient voices of Luoyang no longer seemed to bother him. Old Tang felt that his face might be a little pale.

He shook his head, looked at the nurse, took out his bank card, and his eyes were as humble as a stray dog's, all traces of the unruly attitude he had shown not long ago.

He said in a hoarse voice, "My money."

The nurse nodded, did not take the bank card, and quickly stuffed the banknotes into Old Tang's hand.

The pretty nurse's face grew even calmer, though she subtly used a respectful form of address, saying, "You may leave now."

Old Tang clutched the banknotes, turned, and walked away from the shack. The sunlight outside was blinding, yet he felt utterly cold.

He turned around and looked at the blood bank, as if everything that had just happened was just an absurd dream, except that the dollars in his pocket told him it was all real.

Unbeknownst to him, as he walked out of the blood bank, the beautiful nurse also dropped her pretense. Someone beside her put the test tubes containing the Dragon King's blood into a safe, slung it over their back, and walked out of the blood bank toward the airport, where a private plane was waiting for him.

At the same time, the pretty nurse dialed a number on her phone, her tone respectful: "Master, we have collected the Dragon King's blood as you instructed."

"very good."

On the other end of the phone was a carefree voice, as if he were on a beach, battling the surging waves, with a woman screaming beside him.

He is Pompeii Gattuso, the true head of the Gattuso family.

After praising him, Pompeii asked, "I would like to ask when my things will arrive."

The nurse spoke with utmost respect, her eyes gleaming with a subtle golden light, "She will appear by your side in about two and a half hours, Master."

On the other side, Pompeii nodded in satisfaction. He comforted the Latin girl beside him, somewhat lamenting that he probably wouldn't be able to "eat" anything today.

No, there's still time. Pompeii's eyes gleamed. It seemed he had to hurry.

He said to the nurse next to him, "Attia, you did a great job."

After saying that, he hung up the phone and left in a hurry.

The nurse listened to Pompeii's praise without reacting, and also put down her phone, along with the words she had originally intended to say to Pompeii.

Two and a half hours later, in a luxurious manor, Pompeii looked at the sleepy Latin girl beside him and felt a wave of disgust. So he waved his hand.

The housekeepers around the room very conscientiously pulled the still unconscious girl outside and arranged accommodation for her, silencing her with green banknotes.

He looked at the safe that had just been delivered, which contained the blood that his brother Norton had recently had drawn from him.

He opened the safe, looked at the blood inside which seemed to have turned crimson gold, and murmured, "Norton, you have fallen so low! You have even lost the authority over alchemy."

He clicked his tongue twice, as if he hadn't expected Norton to be so incompetent.

At this moment, the test tube seemed to have been eroded and activated by blood, and the surface of the bottle seemed to have vein-like patterns flowing across it.

Pompeii, however, paid no attention. Humming an unknown song, he picked up the test tube and poured the blood inside into the crucible. An invisible flame enveloped the suspended crucible.

With a loud "boom," the silence was broken, and the form of the Dragon King's blood inside the crucible kept changing.

Pompeii, however, continued humming "From top to bottom, from bottom to top..."

Soon, only a pool of thick, amber-like liquid remained inside the crucible, containing countless flowing bronze engravings that exuded an aura of eternity yet death.

Pompeii poured it into a cup carved from dragon's teeth.

He raised the Holy Grail, which was believed to grant immortality, dismissively placed it before him, and said to the butler beside him:

“Tell my dear brother that if my son insists on going to Sichuan, find a way to get him to take this thing with him.”

Chapter 180 The Secret Party's Dragon-Slaying Squad

Caesar Gattuso took a sip of the strong liquor, savoring its fiery flavor with delight, and nodded as he looked at Hilbert Jean Angers before him.

Perhaps because he was a member of the Gattuso family, and Principal Angers had always been at odds with the Gattuso family, he had been excluded from the principal's afternoon tea for the past two years.

But that doesn't matter.

Just like how the Lionheart Society's president was unwilling to let the ancient traditions ruin his life, which led him to choose the student council, but in turn he overpowered the Lionheart Society and took over Norton Hall.

The principal finally set aside his pride and could no longer ignore his brilliance. He bowed his head before him and invited him to the tea party.

The only drawback is...

Caesar frowned as he looked at the two people around him: his nemesis Chu Zihang and Fingel von Frings, a student council member who was obedient but disobedient and always embezzled his funds.

Caesar remembered the name. The Frings family was also an elder family of the Secret Service. After the decline of the Kassel family, the Frings family took their place and became the representative of the Secret Service among mixed-race families in Germany.

He was able to remember Fingel's name thanks to this.

Chu Zihang is one thing, but what right does Fingel have to be here?

Caesar put down his wine glass, but didn't think much of it. He didn't care. A leader like him could still be invincible even with a good-for-nothing like Fingel behind him.

He looked at Angers and asked, "Headmaster, is there something you need from us?"

Angers smiled and nodded, looking at the three students in front of him as if he were examining three perfect weapons. Before Lu Mingfei enrolled, these three were his most outstanding students.

He greeted the three of them, saying, "It's truly a rare privilege to invite three students here for afternoon tea at the same time. However, I must explain that there isn't enough time; I simply don't have three separate afternoons to invite you all individually."

Angers made a joke, but Caesar sensed the deeper meaning in his words. He leaned slightly to the side and asked, "Time? Headmaster, are you suggesting we carry out some kind of mission?"

Caesar was no stranger to this; every student at Kassel College had experience participating in Executive Department missions, and Chu Zihang had even joined the Executive Department ahead of time.

Although Caesar himself did not take the routine tasks of the Executive Department seriously, he had also participated in some missions.

The task assigned to him by Principal Angers, the legendary hero who slays dragons, is a very "challenging" thing that is worth trying.

Ang nodded, looking at Fingel, who was huddled on the stool, wriggling as if looking for a chance to escape, and sighed:

"Fingal, you are the one chosen for this mission. Don't even think about running away."

Fingel, his face filled with grief and indignation, pointed at Chu Zihang and Caesar, "Old man, don't try to fool me like you're fooling them. Do you think I don't know what you're thinking?"

"Ideas? What ideas?" Angers asked, holding a teacup in one hand, looking quite interested.

Caesar and Chu Zihang also looked over, wanting to know what Fingel knew that he didn't.

Fingel glanced at the people around him, choosing not to slip away. Seemingly prepared, he pulled out several photographs from his pocket and snapped them onto Angers' favorite 19th-century Venetian antique furniture, hand-carved by Venetian artisans. He then said with a cold smile:

"This is the place you wanted us to take you, isn't it?"

Angers didn't look at it, but smiled and nodded, then pushed the picture to Caesar and Chu Zihang.