The plan was already in motion—Rian just needed to execute it step by step.
Even if Fuso couldn't get a biological sample of the fallen dragon, they knew the remains were hidden somewhere in Mount Wu. There was a way to find them.
In the past, they had even infiltrated the Fuso imperial palace and kidnapped the king himself.
But let's be real—the kidnapper had been a white wolf. Who could stop that?
"Even if they can't get the virus out of Heishui, Fuso is finished."
"Why not just trade some shiny trinkets for what they want? It's not like they didn't steal most of it anyway."
After Rian left the consulate, Ambassador Sun handed him a small plastic bag.
"Li Qian, this is a national gift. You can take it."
Rian glanced at the humble bag—inside was a plain cardboard box.
"Wait… is this the legendary 'National Gift Porcelain'? The kind given only to a handful of foreign heroes?"
He had read about it—people like Bethune's descendants or John Barra's lineage received porcelain like this.
Rian was now the third person in this world to receive it. The moment he accepted it, his name would be etched into the annals of Tōdai's archives.
This wasn't just a gift—it was an heirloom. Something meant to outlive generations.
He pulled over on the road, opened the box... and his eyes lit up.
A golden-yellow double-ear porcelain vase.
Smooth, flawless, and sacred. It glowed with an aura of history and grace.
"Only emperors once touched this glaze..." he murmured, running his fingers over the surface.
And now it was his.
But Rian didn't go back to the Heaven household. Instead, he secretly donated a copy of the massacre film to Tōdai (Tokyo University).
To the Fusō people, it still looked like Rian held the original. And he was going to use that illusion to finish the job.
He headed straight to the Fuso Embassy in Los Angeles.
In the reception room, Ambassador Ryusuke Nakamura was entertaining Mayor Omar.
"Welcome, Mr. Mayor," Nakamura greeted politely.
But Omar scoffed, visibly upset.
"Your people killed an LAPD officer in broad daylight!"
Nakamura frowned. He already knew about the mess—how the military attaché Itō and intel chief Kudō were both wiped out.
After World War II, Fuso had become a client state under the security treaty. In the presence of the Eagle Nation, all Fuso officials bowed like servants.
They revered strength and feared power. So it made sense that they respected America's might.
And now… Rian.
Even Nakamura, who normally had no issue kneeling when needed, couldn't figure out how to stand up to this storm.
He bowed deeply. "Let's begin with an apology."
But Omar wasn't having it.
"Let me tell you something, Ambassador," he barked. "Detective Rian is the pride of Los Angeles PD! A model citizen! I'm awarding him the Medal of Valor and Heroism!"
"You insulted the wrong man—and our entire city."
"You're done here."
Nakamura was stunned, sprayed by Omar's spit but too terrified to wipe his face.
"Yaga… what the hell is happening? Didn't Omar like us just a week ago?"
"Doesn't he want Fuso votes? Why is he now backing a Chinese cop over us?"
Confused and panicked, Nakamura bowed again.
"But sir, Rian is Chinese! Doesn't that make him the enemy?"
"Why side with him?"
Omar slammed his hand on the table.
"I'm the mayor of this city—not you!"
"Rian is a descendant of Yan and Huang. He is nobler than any of us—Black, White, or Fuso."
"You massacred his people in Nanjing. Don't you dare try to wiggle out of this."
"Your emperor should go to Nanjing and kneel."
Omar turned and stormed out.
"Master," he texted Rian. "Your loyal servant has laid the trap."
Hidden inside the office, Rian read the message and chuckled. He had overheard everything—there was only a thin wall separating the rooms.
"Wow, this Omar's got the revolutionary gene."
When Nakamura re-entered the room, he saw a reflection in the glass.
He spun around—Rian was lounging on the sofa, aiming a silenced Glock straight at his head.
"Yaga! Who are you?!"
Rian raised an eyebrow.
"You sent assassins after me, and don't even recognize my face?"
"Detective Rian… this is all a misunderstanding!" Nakamura said, grinning nervously.
"Let's talk compensation! You want money? Women?"
Rian scoffed.
"You're really bad at diplomacy. You don't even know how to read the room."
Nakamura tried to act calm, but he was sweating bullets.
"You're an orphan, Rian! You have no homeland. Why side with China?"
"Give us the film, and we'll make you a national friend of Fuso!"
"We'll give you anything. Money. Fame. Women. Want our top actress? Reimi Ishihara? We'll send her to your bed."
"Or if you prefer… we've got plenty of AV stars too—your pick."
Rian laughed coldly.
"Gross. You're offering me worn-out shoes passed around by everyone? I've got higher standards."
"But I do want something."
Nakamura leaned forward eagerly. "Name it!"
"Back in the early days after Japan's surrender, the Kwantung Army looted a dragon-like creature from Yingcheng."
"I want its remains."
Nakamura's eyes bulged.
"Yaga! You're not a cop—you're a damn agent!"
"You're one of Eagle Nation's monsters, aren't you?!"
"You were sent here to take our last hope!"
Rian said nothing, only smiled.
Nakamura didn't realize Rian had already deduced the truth:
The fallen dragon's remains were in Fuso's hands.
"Ambassador Nakamura," Rian said, "you don't want the film anymore?"
"Too bad. I'll give you a reel… just one."
Nakamura gritted his teeth.
"That film ruins our history, but the dragon remains could rebuild it."
"They're tied to our biotech and genetic future—our path to rise again!"
Rian stood up.
"Thanks for confirming what I needed to know."
Nakamura realized he had just spilled everything.
He lunged at Rian with a heavy metal ornament in hand.
Bang.
A single bullet tore through his forehead.
Before his vision faded, Nakamura saw Rian summon dozens more rounds into the air.
"He's going to blow up the embassy…"