Chapter 52: Mediocre Talent

Hanzhou.

In stark contrast to Dezhou, where it is summer all year round, Hanzhou is perpetually frozen, with snowflakes drifting at any time and the world blanketed in endless white. In this sacred realm, some flee for their lives while others coldly pursue and surround them.

After running frantically for another stretch, Casano, exhausted, leaned against an ice sculpture. His clothes were tattered and filthy, barely better than a beggar's rags, and fresh blood stains mingled with the dried, brownish clots from earlier, deepening their color. Head thrown back, he gasped for breath, glancing over his shoulder from time to time. Wiping sweat from his brow—astonishing in such bitter cold, where even a breath instantly turned to mist—Casano was still drenched as if in a downpour.

He glanced at the weapon in his hand, now almost spent, and a ruthless glint flashed across his face. Spitting to the side, he muttered a curse under his breath, "Damn it all. Even if I die here today, I'm dragging a few of you bastards to the grave with me!"

With that, Casano rubbed his hands together and instantly transformed the weapon into a card. Looking at its worn, almost unrecognizable surface, his eyes clouded with pain. He whispered, "Good brother, if I make it out alive, I'll restore you. If not, then we'll stay together, and neither of us will be alone."

He tucked the card away carefully in his sleeve, then took another, this one from his breast pocket, his movements reverent. Gazing at it, a gentle light passed through his eyes. That miraculous card from his dear grandson had saved him from peril time and again, but this time—Casano sighed—he feared there was no return. Still, his gaze sharpened with a ferocity born of desperation. If this was the end, he'd go out blazing—let his enemies accompany him to death.

Bracing himself atop the ice sculpture, Casano stood facing the wind as snowflakes fell on his hair and shoulders. He sneered, imagining the enemy had brought their full force to bear against him alone. Black figures quickly closed in from all sides. His expression was icy, but regret gnawed at his heart. After today’s battle, he might never see his precious grandson again. My boy, your grandfather may have to break his promise.

Facing the wind and snow, Casano looked down with pride and disdain at the anxious enemies below. Seeing their nervous faces, he scoffed, "It's just me. You’ve hunted me day and night for half a month and still look like this? Aren't you ashamed? Even I can't bear to look at you!"

"Casano, hand over the cardmaker who crafted those miraculous cards, and you’ll be spared," called the leader, his tone pretending generosity. Casano almost laughed aloud at the sight, nearly tempted to stomp on the man's face. "Spare me, my ass! Lapdogs, all of you. I'd sooner die than let you have your way. Want to know who made the cards? Come on, step over my corpse first!" Hand over his grandson? Only a fool would believe their promises.

Still, the enemy persisted, feigning earnest persuasion. "Casano, don't be rash. Surrender the person, and you may leave unharmed. I’ll guarantee your safety. He’s just a human—worth sacrificing your life for?"

Such a clumsy attempt at sowing discord had often worked when driving a wedge between card beasts and humans. Casano grinned, finding the man’s ignorance amusing. Did he not know Casano was of the Dragon clan, famed for their human-card beast bonds?

"Idiot!" Casano spat. Scanning his surroundings, he gave a wicked grin. "Are all your people here?"

A flash of caution crossed his opponent’s eyes. "Casano, think carefully. Even if you injure a few more with those miraculous cards, there are too many of us. You can’t escape today!"

Casano threw back his head and laughed brazenly. "I never planned to leave here alive!" With a swift motion, he slapped his left hand. Instantly, over a dozen cards appeared before him, making his enemies pale and leap back in alarm. Casano roared with laughter. "Too late to retreat now!" He'd dragged out the conversation just to buy time for everyone to arrive.

Despite his arrogance, a hint of solemnity flickered in his eyes as he saw the cards floating before him. Gritting his teeth, he poured his remaining power into them. The cards transformed into vampires, draining his strength at a terrifying rate. Standing in the blizzard, Casano turned deathly pale. Activating so many powerful cards simultaneously was dangerous—some attributes would clash, triggering unpredictable explosions that would harm both enemy and self. None of these cards was below eight stars; if unleashed, their power could rend the earth.

Swaying at the center of the cards, Casano looked like he might collapse. Yet, seeing the terror on his enemies’ faces, he laughed like a demon, raising a singular, strange card and pointing it at the leader who had tried to bargain with him. His white brows arched sharply, cold as a drawn sword. "You’ll be the first to die!"

The man looked on in panic and despair, pleading for mercy, but Casano’s eyes grew blood-red. His lips moved, whispering almost inaudibly, "Goodbye."

He poured the last of his strength into the card. Amid the cascade of dazzling lights, the blue glow of this card shone undiminished. Casano’s mouth twisted in a ghastly smile. "Die!"

The man fell first, even among so many.

Though on the verge of collapse, Casano kept smiling. Amid the shrieks and the chaos, he alone laughed serenely, his tranquil smile turning the holy, silent white world blood red and cacophonous.

One by one, the cards went off. In the violent shockwave, Casano’s powerful card beast body soared skyward with the broken bodies of his foes. Even as his consciousness faded, he stubbornly kept his eyes open, gazing through the blood mist at the terrified heads flying past, savoring his victory and his pain.

...

Lizhou. The ancestral land of the Dragon clan.

Beside a tranquil lake, in a simple wooden cabin.

Sitting cross-legged on a wooden bed, Karanen’s tightly closed eyes suddenly streamed with tears of blood. The crimson streaked down his snowy pale cheeks, a shocking sight. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, his brow furrowed, sweat pouring from his body. Suddenly, he coughed up blood and opened his eyes, a look of grief passing through them. Staring at the sky, Karanen called out softly, "Father..."

With a bang, Casano’s life sphere—his symbol of life—suddenly shattered, fragments flying everywhere. Karanen, startled, grabbed the pieces that flew toward him, clutching them tightly. For a moment, bewilderment and helplessness flashed across his face. Father… the stubborn old man… is dead?

Blood and tears ran together down Karanen’s cheeks. How could this be? He leapt up, frantically gathering the fragments. After a long while, he stared in despair at the incomplete sphere. "How can a piece be missing? How can it be missing..." His exquisitely beautiful face was streaked with tears as he tried to fit the pieces together. "No, the old man wouldn’t die..."

"No, no, there must be a sliver of hope left, there must be!" Suddenly recalling something, Karanen gritted his teeth, knelt toward the Sacred Lake, and, holding the broken fragments, made a solemn vow: "I, Karanen, Lord of the Sacred Lake, am willing to break my heart’s vow and give up my blue ice dragon-lion beast body, to fall from grace and enter the mortal realm, if only the god of card beasts would grant my father a chance at life."

As if by magic, Karanen instantly felt something being drawn from his body. His once dreamlike blue hair turned blood-red at the tips. Watching the broken fragments slowly reassemble into a sphere, he was torn between grief and joy.

Wrapping the sphere carefully in gauze, Karanen placed it gently back in its place. Stroking the cracks, he murmured, "Still a narrow escape from death..."

His gaze drifted to the other life crystals on the table. The one belonging to his little nephew flashed in tandem with Casano’s, shining and dimming with each pulse.

Karanen’s eyes narrowed. Frowning, he stroked the orb. "Little one, your grandfather would never want you risking your life for him, so behave yourself!" A streak of blue light passed, and the flashing orb fell still—only to break free of Karanen’s restraint an instant later, pulsing more violently.

Karanen frowned more deeply, then slowly relaxed. In a cool, clear voice, he called, "Wuhen!"

A man in black appeared behind him, kneeling with head bowed. "My lord!"

Karanen glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Wuhen, I want you to get word to young master Long Yin in Dezhou as quickly as possible—let him know Casano is safe."

"Yes." Wuhen nodded respectfully and started to rise, but Karanen’s icy voice halted him. "If you are discovered, disappear for the young master’s safety."

The black-clad man glanced up at the figure he so admired, then nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

As Wuhen vanished, Karanen looked skyward again. He would have to go himself. With death so near, he could trust no one else with Casano’s last hope.

With a wave of his hand, a stream of water washed over him, cleansing the blood from his face and body and sweeping away his worries. Even stripped of his beast form and forever barred from becoming the blue lion, Karanen’s elegance and composure remained untouched, unmoved by worldly matters. Stepping from the cabin, he summoned the fastest flying golden eagle among the card beasts. Barefoot, he mounted the eagle, which cried out and beat its wings, soaring toward Hanzhou.

...

Federal State. In a hidden house, a man in a black robe trimmed with gold stood with hands clasped behind his back by a dragon throne, listening to his subordinate’s report.

After a long silence, under the subordinate’s anxious gaze, he spoke coolly, "They’re all dead. A pity about Casano—he was useful. The trail ends here. Keep pursuing. As long as some of the Dragon clan survive, we may still catch bigger fish."

The subordinate accepted his orders and swiftly withdrew.

The man turned and sat on the dragon throne, looking down at the others. Behind his white ghost mask, his mouth twisted in scorn. "How much longer will it take you to finish your assignments?"

"How many more years do you need to truly infiltrate a mere Dezhou?" His tone rose at the end.

Those below fell silent, not daring to look up at the man on the throne.

At last, one man, trembling, raised his head for a glance before quickly bowing it again. "My lord, we guarantee to complete the mission in three months!"

The man nodded. "You have three more months. Fail, and you and your families all die."

...

In a jungle in Dezhou known as the Devil’s Ground, a sturdy Mountain-Thumping Bear dashed through the underbrush at a speed and agility that defied its massive size. It raced ever faster, its movements ghostly in the shifting shadows.

This bear was none other than Little Chui, whom Yuan Shaolin had persuaded to undergo extreme survival training.

After barely making it across the mountains, Little Chui encountered swarms of blood mosquitoes. No matter how thick his hide, he dared not challenge these so-called vampires head-on. He tried retreating quietly, but the buzzing grew, and soon he was fleeing for his life. He had thought that if he avoided the pit vipers, he’d be safe and could return to see Yin, but the blood mosquitoes proved even more troublesome. As he ran, he desperately racked his brain for a way to deal with the swarming menace—he didn’t want to be sucked dry once his strength failed.

Cornered in a ravine, Little Chui watched in terror as the blood mosquitoes swarmed ominously, their buzzing enough to make one’s skin crawl. He let out a thunderous roar, hoping to awaken his inherited battle instincts, but to his horror, the mountainside began to shift and the ground collapsed, revealing a gaping black hole. Quick as lightning, Little Chui dug his claws into the rock, stopping his fall. Peering into the darkness below, he steadied himself and leapt to the edge—only to be surrounded by a black cloud of mosquitoes. Before he could react, the stone beneath his feet crumbled, and he tumbled down into the abyss, curling into a ball as he fell.

Nearby, the guards Yuan Shaolin had stationed to protect Little Chui rushed over at the sound of his roar, only to see the landscape restored to normal, with no trace of the disturbance. They exchanged bewildered looks—how had the big fellow vanished in the blink of an eye?

...

Meanwhile, in Dezhou, Sasaki at the Sato family home and Yuan Shaolin at the Dexin dormitory received messages in quick succession. Both faces changed dramatically, and both worried about whether—or even if—they should pass the news on to Long Yin.

At the same time, a craft landed discreetly at the governor’s mansion. A young man descended, his steady, elegant stride drawing admiration from the governor, who sighed to himself—each generation surpasses the last, and even at such a young age, this youth was already extraordinary. He shook his head, reluctantly acknowledging his own advancing age.

Stepping forward, the governor greeted him with respectful poise, "Envoy, welcome!"

The youth smiled gently. "Governor, please forget my status as envoy. I am still a citizen under your governance."

The governor shook his head. "Since you come as envoy, I am not your official, but your subordinate."

For once, the young man felt a flicker of pride at these words. The two exchanged pleasantries, and as the conversation subtly touched upon the purpose of the visit, they entered a private chamber together, as if old friends.

...

Author’s Note: If you enjoy this, please support it! I, Deng, will do my best to make it even more exciting!