Time flowed swiftly toward the closing ceremony, bringing with it Lu Tianming's long-anticipated arrival in Beijing. Despite his demanding business schedule, he'd kept his promise to Su Xiaoyan, flying in to witness the Olympic Games' spectacular conclusion alongside his family.
The morning after the ceremony's final fireworks had faded, Chu Zihang found himself preparing for departure—first home to Shanghai, then directly back to Chicago and the mysteries waiting at Cassel College.
Su Xiaoyan and Lu Tianming would remain in Beijing for an extended stay, enjoying the capital's post-Olympic atmosphere, while Xia Mi had her own reasons to linger—the lucrative tutoring position that had transformed her circumstances overnight.
Aboard their Shanghai-bound flight, Chu Zihang stared at his unwanted traveling companion with barely concealed exasperation.
"Why are you still clinging to me like some persistent parasite?" he asked, his voice carrying the flat exhaustion of someone who'd exhausted all reasonable arguments.
"Junior brother, don't be so harsh!" Finger replied with his characteristic shameless grin. "I'm completely unfamiliar with China's customs and geography. What if I get lost wandering around by myself? You wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you?"
The excuse was transparently false, but Finger's real motivations ran deeper than simple tourist anxiety. His information broker instincts had detected something significant in Chu Zihang's recent changes—the enhanced confidence, the subtle shifts in posture and presence, the way he now moved with the unconscious grace of someone who'd faced genuine combat. There was a story here, and Finger intended to uncover it.
Chu Zihang had no effective defense against such shameless manipulation. Finger possessed a silver tongue and lightning-quick wit that had already charmed Su Xiaoyan completely. He still remembered his mother's parting instructions at the airport, delivered with maternal authority that brooked no argument: "Take good care of Finger, dear. Show him our beautiful country, let him experience our rich culture and history!"
The memory made him want to bang his head against the airplane window.
After arriving in Shanghai and spending a restful night recovering from travel fatigue, Chu Zihang made an unusual request the following morning.
"I need you to drive me somewhere specific," he told Finger, who was enjoying a leisurely breakfast on the villa's sun-drenched terrace.
"Drive? Junior brother, don't you have a license yourself?" Finger looked genuinely puzzled. Most wealthy Chinese teenagers obtained driving privileges as soon as legally possible.
"Just drive where I tell you and follow my instructions exactly," Chu Zihang replied curtly, unwilling to explain his reasoning.
Finger had renewed his international driving permit specifically for this Chinese adventure, and since he'd appointed himself Chu Zihang's constant shadow, he might as well serve some practical purpose.
Under Chu Zihang's terse directions, they navigated Shanghai's complex highway system until they reached a particular overpass—one that looked utterly ordinary to casual observation, distinguished only by its heavy traffic flow and concrete construction typical of modern Chinese infrastructure.
"Just keep driving back and forth on this overpass," Chu Zihang instructed once they'd merged into the traffic flow. "Don't exit unless I specifically tell you to."
"Why?" Finger asked, bewildered by the bizarre request. "Are we conducting some kind of surveillance? Testing the car's fuel efficiency? I don't understand the purpose of this exercise."
Chu Zihang didn't answer. Instead, he closed his eyes and settled back in the passenger seat, his breathing shifting into the controlled rhythm he'd learned from Po during meditation training.
"Junior brother, you're not actually planning to sleep while I drive in circles, are you?" Finger tried again after several minutes of silence. "Junior brother? This is highly irregular behavior, even for you..."
Ignoring Finger's increasingly creative complaints, Chu Zihang extended his Observation Haki outward, letting his enhanced senses sweep across every inch of the overpass structure. He was searching for something specific—any trace of Odin's Nibelungen, the dimensional space that had swallowed his father on that rain-soaked night years ago.
His newly awakened abilities allowed him to perceive details invisible to normal human senses: the electromagnetic fields generated by passing vehicles, the minute structural vibrations caused by traffic weight, even the emotional residue left by thousands of daily commuters. But of the supernatural phenomenon he sought, he detected nothing.
For over two hours, Finger dutifully piloted their vehicle back and forth along the same stretch of elevated highway, executing U-turns at toll stations with the mechanical precision of someone trapped in an elaborate punishment. The toll booth operators began regarding them with obvious suspicion, clearly wondering what kind of criminal activity required such repetitive reconnaissance.
Finally, Chu Zihang opened his eyes with visible disappointment. His enhanced senses had found nothing—no dimensional distortions, no supernatural signatures, no trace of the otherworldly space that had claimed his father.
"Let's go," he said quietly.
"Finally!" Finger exploded with relief, his pent-up frustration erupting like a dam breaking. "Do you have any idea what I've endured for the past two and a half hours? Driving to the toll station, turning around like a maniac, driving back to the other toll station, turning around again! The staff there probably think I'm conducting surveillance for some criminal organization! My reputation is ruined!"
But Chu Zihang had already tuned out the tirade, his mind occupied with more pressing concerns. His search had been destined to fail from the beginning—Xia Mi had attempted the same investigation when she'd first sensed Odin's mark upon him, and even her power had proven insufficient to locate the hidden Nibelungen.
Some mysteries required more than enhanced perception to unravel.
After a late lunch to soothe Finger's wounded dignity, they made their way across the city to Chu Zihang's former school. The timing was deliberate—he wanted to arrive as classes were ending, when students would be streaming out of the buildings.
Shilan Middle School stood before them like a monument to educational excellence, its modern architecture and manicured grounds reflecting the substantial investment that had created one of Shanghai's premier private institutions.
"So this is your alma mater?" Finger observed, studying the impressive campus with professional interest. "Quite prestigious-looking. I imagine the tuition reflects that quality."
Chu Zihang pushed away Finger's casual hand on his shoulder, maintaining his usual personal space boundaries. "Shilan is the only private school in the city that can compete academically with public institutions like City No. 1 Middle School. The board of directors spared no expense in creating this facility."
"I came here because they offered me conditions no other school could match," he continued, his tone carrying hints of old pride mixed with current ambivalence.
Private schools like Shilan built their reputations by aggressively recruiting top students with generous scholarships and special privileges. Without those academic stars to elevate their rankings, even the wealthiest families would choose established public schools with proven track records.
Though Lu Tianming certainly could have afforded the full tuition, it had been Shilan's principal who'd personally recruited Chu Zihang, promising resources and opportunities that ultimately secured his enrollment.
The investment had paid dividends. During his six years at Shilan—from middle school through high school—Chu Zihang had represented the school in countless academic competitions, athletic tournaments, and cultural exhibitions. His achievements on the basketball court alone had brought national recognition, while his academic performance had maintained their rankings in university placement statistics.
By his senior year, he'd already earned guaranteed admission to Beijing University, one of China's most prestigious institutions. But the night his father disappeared, everything changed. Chu Zihang had abandoned that secure future to pursue the mysterious Cassel College instead, chasing answers that traditional education couldn't provide.
During his time at Shilan, he'd been the campus's undisputed celebrity—excelling in academics, athletics, and leadership roles while somehow remaining approachable enough to inspire genuine admiration rather than resentment. The girls had organized an actual fan club in his honor, complete with scheduled meetings and unofficial merchandise.
Such popularity had inevitably earned him the top position on the school's unofficial "This Beast Should Be Eliminated" list maintained by envious male classmates. Even now, months after graduation, he probably still held that dubious honor.
"You didn't bring me here just to reminisce about your glory days, did you?" Finger asked with obvious boredom. "Every student at Cassel College was probably the star of their previous school—it's hardly unique. As they say in America: every player who makes it to the NBA was the Michael Jordan of their hometown league."
Finger had heard variations of this story countless times. Academic and athletic excellence were prerequisites for Cassel admission, not distinguishing characteristics.
"I'm here to see someone," Chu Zihang replied simply.
"Oh? Who might that be?" Finger's interest immediately sharpened. Anyone who could draw Chu Zihang back to his old school must possess some significance.
"Just wait."
The dismissal ended their conversation as the school's final bell echoed across the campus. Within minutes, students began pouring through the gates in the chaotic exodus typical of educational institutions worldwide.
Finger watched the stream of teenagers with casual interest, noting nothing particularly remarkable about any of them. Standard mix of wealthy kids, scholarship students, and everything in between—exactly what he'd expected from a prestigious private school.
He was about to ask Chu Zihang to identify their target when he noticed his companion's intense focus on a figure across the street. Following that gaze, Finger spotted what might charitably be called the most dejected human being he'd ever encountered.
The boy—clearly a student based on his age and uniform—walked with the posture of someone carrying invisible weights on his shoulders. His hair hung in unkempt curtains that obscured most of his face, while his hunched stance suggested he was trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Even his gait conveyed defeat, each step seeming to require tremendous effort.
Finger had seen many pathetic sights in his years as an information broker, but this particular specimen achieved previously unknown depths of visible misery.
"Let's go," Chu Zihang said abruptly as the dejected figure disappeared around a corner.
"Junior brother, what's your interest in that walking tragedy?" Finger asked, genuinely curious about what could have drawn Chu Zihang's attention to such an unremarkable target.
But Chu Zihang was already walking toward their parked car, leaving Finger's question unanswered.
"Wait, is that Senior Brother Chu Zihang?"
"Where? Where?"
The excited voices belonged to a group of current students who'd spotted the returning celebrity. Within moments, Chu Zihang found himself surrounded by a crowd of admirers—primarily female—who'd abandoned their own departure plans to intercept their former idol.
"Chu Zihang! Chu Zihang!" The chanting grew enthusiastic as more students joined the impromptu reunion.
From his position across the street, Lu Mingfei—the dejected figure who'd caught Chu Zihang's attention—noticed the commotion and turned to investigate. His first assumption was that some entertainment celebrity had chosen to visit their school, a theory that seemed confirmed by the predominantly female crowd and excited screaming.
"Chu Zihang! Chu Zihang!"
The name reached his ears clearly, causing his assumptions to crumble. He knew that name—everyone at Shilan knew that name. Senior Brother Chu had been the school's golden boy, the student every teacher held up as an example of excellence, the figure every male student secretly envied and every female student openly adored.
"Didn't Senior Brother Chu go to study in America?" Lu Mingfei muttered to himself, watching the crowd from a safe distance. "What's he doing back here?"
Lu Mingfei had no way of knowing that Chu Zihang's return was specifically because of him.
Two motivations had driven this homecoming. First, Chu Zihang hoped to locate traces of Odin's Nibelungen using his newly developed Observation Haki—a mission that had ended in failure at the overpass. Second, and more personally significant, he'd come seeking confirmation of a growing suspicion about Lu Mingfei himself.
During his research in Cassel College's extensive library, Chu Zihang had learned about the "Sorrow of Blood"—the inexplicable melancholy that afflicted mixed-bloods when surrounded by ordinary humans. It was a loneliness born of fundamental difference, the isolation of being something more and less than human simultaneously.
He'd experienced that sensation throughout his years at Shilan, a persistent ache that colored even his greatest triumphs with underlying sadness. But there had been exceptions—moments when the loneliness lifted unexpectedly, usually when a particular classmate was nearby.
That classmate had been Lu Mingfei.
Now, standing outside his former school with enhanced supernatural senses, Chu Zihang focused his Observation Haki on the distant figure still watching the crowd with characteristic dejection.
The confirmation came immediately. Beneath Lu Mingfei's utterly mundane exterior, Chu Zihang detected the unmistakable signature of draconic blood—dormant, suppressed, but undeniably present.
Lu Mingfei was a mixed-blood, just as Chu Zihang had suspected.
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