Mei’s eyes sparkled. Almost snatching it away, she pulled the sword pouch toward her, tore it open, and upon seeing the three swords inside, her expression flickered with shock: “This is!!! This…”
“What is it?” Yang Hao, although aware these swords were heirlooms of the Ten Sword Sect, couldn’t imagine they could shock even a deity to such an extent.
“None of your damn business!” Sure enough, Xing Mei, the goddess, quickly regained her composure. Fearing Yang Hao might snatch it back, she tightly fastened the sword pouch to her body.
“Well, since you’ve accepted the gift, you should find me a good place now, right?” Yang Hao pouted, his face filled with anticipation.
“Of course!” Xing Mei fully displayed her divine demeanor of always keeping her word. “You know, I’m definitely someone who’s easily moved by gifts and softened by kindness. I’m the very best person around!”
“Great! Great!” Yang Hao finally felt relieved. At this point, as long as he didn’t have to feed the Cadis dragons, he was willing to do anything. Besides, considering how generous his bribe had been, he thought Xing Mei should be able to find him a decent place.
Yang Hao’s mind drifted, already imagining himself living a divine life in the celestial realm, surrounded by countless fairies attending to him.
“Don’t dream too much!” Hun Yuan Zi sensed his apprentice’s thoughts and, as usual, showed up to pour cold water on his enthusiasm.
“Dreams will come true eventually!” Yang Hao’s inexplicable confidence swelled boundlessly.
“That’s right!” Surprisingly, Xing Mei also agreed. “Dreams will come true eventually! That’s a shared belief among deities.”
“Great! Great!” Yang Hao excitedly rubbed his hands together. “So where are you taking me to enjoy life? Is there a Starry Sea here? How about a Diamond House?”
“No Diamond House, but…” A sly glint flickered in her eyes as she softly said, “there is a dark dragon’s nest!”
Before she finished speaking, Xing Mei had already extended her beautiful long leg and kicked Yang Hao with all her might. “Go keep the Cadis dragons company!”
“Wah!!!” Unprepared for the sudden attack while lost in daydreams, Yang Hao was instantly kicked into the bottomless abyss of the dragon valley. His anguished cries echoed from deep within the valley, “You evil witch! You broke your promise! You despicable old hag! How shameless!”
Unfortunately, no matter how pitiful or tragic his cries were, no one could hear them. Moreover, when Yang Hao, like a falling stone, reached near the dragon’s lair halfway down the mountain, a sudden current swept him into the dragon’s cave, abruptly silencing his voice.
Thus, life truly is a tragedy.
Xin Mei’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She practically snatched the sword pouch from him and tore it open to see the three swords inside. A look of shock flashed across her face: “This is!!! This…”
“What is it?” Yang Hao knew these swords were the heirlooms of the Ten Sword Sect, but he didn’t expect them to astonish even a deity to this extent.
“None of your business!” Xin Mei, ever the divine sister, quickly regained her composure. As if afraid Yang Hao might snatch them back, she tightly secured the pouch to her body.
“You’ve accepted the gift, so now you should arrange a good place for me, right?” Yang Hao pouted, his face full of anticipation.
“Of course!” Xin Mei fully displayed the integrity befitting a deity. “I, for one, always keep my word. Take something from someone, and you owe them—that’s just how I am. I’m the best!”
“Great, great!” Yang Hao finally felt relieved. As long as he didn’t have to feed the Cadiz Dragons, he was fine with anything. Besides, the bribe he’d offered was substantial enough that Xin Mei would surely arrange something decent for him.
Yang Hao’s mind began to wander, imagining himself living a divine life in the celestial realm, surrounded by beautiful fairies attending to his every need.
“Stop dreaming!” Hunyuanzi, sensing his disciple’s thoughts, chose the worst possible moment to pour cold water on his fantasies.
“Dreams do come true!” Yang Hao’s inexplicable confidence swelled without bounds.
“Exactly!” Xin Mei surprisingly agreed. “Dreams do come true! That’s a shared belief among deities.”
“Wonderful, wonderful!” Yang Hao rubbed his hands in excitement. “So, where are you taking me to enjoy myself? Is there a Starry Sky Sea here? Or maybe a Diamond House?”
“No Diamond House, but…” A sly glint flashed in her eyes as she said softly, “There is a big, dark dragon’s lair!”
Before Yang Hao could react, Xin Mei extended her beautiful long leg and kicked him with all her might, sending him flying: “Go keep the Cadiz Dragons company!”
“Wahhh!!!” Caught off guard in the midst of his fantasies, Yang Hao was sent plummeting into the bottomless abyss of the Dragon Cliff. His shrill screams echoed through the canyon: “You deceitful witch! You liar! You shameless hag!”
Alas, no matter how pitiful or desperate his cries, no one would hear them. As Yang Hao fell like a stone toward the dragon’s lair halfway down the mountain, a sudden current of air abruptly sucked him inside, cutting off his voice mid-scream.
Truly, life is a series of misfortunes.
If time could rewind to half a year ago, when Yang Hao was still studying at the Raymond Star Advanced Academy, he would never have imagined that on this inexplicable afternoon, he’d be inexplicably kidnapped into the divine realm—only to be inexplicably kicked off a cliff by a goddess.
And now, things had taken an even more absurd turn: he had landed in the darkest, most terrifying dragon’s lair in the world.
Yang Hao had heard legends about the Cadiz Dragons before, but they were all exaggerated tales at best, mostly describing the dragons’ cruelty and bloodlust.
Only after being sucked into the lair did Yang Hao realize how far from reality those rumors were—utter nonsense. The so-called legends about humans coexisting with dragons or lairs filled with gold and treasures? Pure fabrication.
On the contrary, Yang Hao now felt something utterly bizarre, something beyond description.
He found himself in an enormous cavern, so vast it seemed like the entire mountain had been hollowed out. Yet, it wasn’t pitch black—instead, a sickly green glow illuminated everything.
Even so, this wasn’t the strangest part. Having faced life-and-death situations before, Yang Hao wasn’t easily frightened.
But the aura and sensations permeating this place were unlike anything he had ever experienced. Perhaps he had glimpsed something similar before, but he had never truly immersed himself in such an environment.
Here, darkness and evil were tangible, as if every molecule of air was infused with a chilling, black essence.
“Too… much.” Even Xin Mei’s deceit was forgotten in the face of this overwhelming dread.
“I’m still here,” Hunyuanzi said solemnly, his voice unusually steady, bringing a sliver of warmth and calm to Yang Hao’s heart.
“What do we do now?” Yang Hao suppressed the nausea rising in his chest. Every breath he took felt like it might suffocate him.
“Disciple, remember this—no matter what happens, you must always remember,” Hunyuanzi’s voice took on an odd tone, as if anticipating something. “Our sect may not be accepted by the orthodox, but we are not a dark faction. No matter how unorthodox our methods, we never commit evil deeds.”
“I know.”
“Remember, no matter where you are, you must uphold your own sense of justice. Even in darkness, never forget that you are light.”
“I know.”
“Whether you oppose the empire is your choice, but remember—our sect’s enemies reside within the Imperial Senate.” Hunyuanzi’s voice grew louder, almost roaring. “Whether I’m here or not, you must seek vengeance. This hatred isn’t just mine—it belongs to our entire sect, to the legacy of the Dual Cultivation of Alchemy!”
“I know!!” Yang Hao, fueled by sudden courage, stood up and shouted in response.
“Remember, you must not let the Dual Cultivation of Alchemy die out. I spent millennia exhausting my power to preserve you as the last spark. No matter the cost, you must keep the flame burning—forever.”
“I know!!” Yang Hao didn’t understand what was happening, but he sensed the unyielding pride in Hunyuanzi’s voice, as if the indomitable spirit of millennia past had returned.
“Now,” Hunyuanzi said softly, as if tired, “let there be light.”
Let there be light—it wasn’t difficult.
Yang Hao exhaled gently, and a flame blossomed in his palm, casting brilliant light into the sinister lair.
But the flame flickered violently almost instantly. When Yang Hao looked up, he beheld a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life.
Not far from him, no more than a hundred meters away, stood a colossal beast, motionless as a statue.
A dragon.
What image does the word “dragon” conjure? In ancient times, the Chinese envisioned serpentine bodies and golden dragons soaring through the heavens as symbols of fortune. But later, it was proven that dragons in the universe often had vast wings and towering bodies, their snarling maws filled with jagged teeth, ready to spew fire at any moment.
The Cadiz Dragons, in particular, were the subject of terrifying rumors, leading Yang Hao to imagine them as monstrously savage, hideous creatures with heads the size of mountains, their teeth perpetually dripping with the blood of their victims.
Yet now, the light in Yang Hao’s trembling hands revealed something unexpected.
First, he saw the eyes—eyes beyond imagination. There was no trace of savagery in them, only profound wisdom, like ancient wells that had witnessed countless years, standing still in silent solitude.
The Cadiz Dragon’s massive body wasn’t as terrifying as Xin Mei had described. Though its bulk filled nearly half the cavern, and its folded wings hinted at the majesty of flight, its grayish-white skin tinged with eerie red didn’t seem particularly fearsome. Motionless, quieter than a statue, the dragon appeared almost harmless.
But Yang Hao was more terrified than ever. When his gaze shifted from the dragon to its surroundings, his body shook like a leaf, barely keeping him from collapsing.
Beside the enormous Cadiz Dragon stood a row of what looked like nursery nests. But instead of dragon hatchlings, they held human skeletons—complete, as if their flesh had rotted away all at once, leaving only bones behind.
Strangest of all, each skeleton’s gaping mouth held a peculiar-looking bottle filled with a faint green glow, its nature unknown.
“What kind of madness is this?” Yang Hao muttered, unnerved by the surroundings. The dragon stared at him but remained silent. “Hey! You—whatever dragon you are—say something! If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with!” Feeling he had little to lose, Yang Hao mustered his courage and shouted.
But the Cadiz Dragon remained still, as if deaf to his words, continuing its silent, unwavering gaze.
“Can you kill someone just by staring?” Yang Hao grumbled, trying to mask his fear with bravado. “Stupid deity, can’t even talk. Are you mute or something?”
“It has spoken,” Hunyuanzi suddenly sighed, his voice weary. “It’s been talking to me all along.”
“Talking to you? Why can’t I hear it?” Yang Hao was baffled. “Does this damn dragon have racial prejudice? Doesn’t like handsome young geniuses like me?”
And now it was even more absurd—he had actually arrived at the darkest and most terrifying dragon’s lair in the entire world.
Yang Hao had heard legends about the Cadis dragon clan before, but those were just exaggerated rumors, mostly describing the dragons’ cruelty and bloodthirstiness.
It wasn’t until he was truly sucked into the dragon’s lair that Yang Hao realized how untrue those legends were—they were complete nonsense. Just think about those so-called legendary stories: humans coexisting with dragons, treasures hidden in dragon caves—pure fabrications.
Quite the opposite, Yang Hao’s current feeling was extremely strange—strange to the extreme.
He was, of course, in an enormous cave, about as big as an entire mountain hollowed out. But it wasn’t pitch black here; instead, a sickly green glow enveloped everything.
Even so, it wasn’t particularly strange—Yang Hao had been through many life-and-death situations before and wasn’t easily frightened.
But the atmosphere and sensation here were completely new to him. Perhaps he had occasionally glimpsed something similar before, but never had he truly experienced it firsthand, never had he been immersed in it like this.
Darkness and evil had become tangible here, as if every molecule of air was filled with sinister, hair-raising elements.
“Too… whatever.” Even the previous deception by Xing Mei was completely forgotten.
“I’m still here!” Hun Yuan Zi said solemnly. This time, he was unusually serious, and his calm, steady voice brought a warm current to Yang Hao’s heart, slightly calming him.
“What do we do now?” Yang Hao kept suppressing the nausea rising in his chest. Each breath he took in this place felt like it might suffocate him.
“Apprentice, remember this—no matter what happens, you must always remember,” Hun Yuan Zi’s voice sounded strange, as if foreseeing something, “the Dual Cultivation Sect may not be accepted by the righteous path, but it has never been a dark sect. No matter how unconventional its disciples may act, they never commit heinous crimes.”
“I know.”
“Remember, no matter what, you must always remember your own sense of justice. Even if you are surrounded by darkness, you must not forget that you are pure, that you are light.”
“I know.”
“Whether or not to oppose the Empire is your choice, but remember, no matter what, you must remember that your master’s enemies are in the Imperial Senate.” Hun Yuan Zi’s voice grew louder, almost shouting, “Whether I’m here or not, you must seek revenge. This hatred isn’t just mine alone—it belongs to the entire sect, to the Dual Cultivation Sect!”
“I know!!” Yang Hao, from somewhere unknown, suddenly found great courage. He stood up abruptly and shouted in response with all his might.
“You must remember, you must not allow the Dual Cultivation Sect to perish. I, your master, spent thousands of years and exhausted all my powers just to leave you as the last spark. No matter what it costs, you must keep that flame burning forever, never letting it be extinguished.”
“I know!!” Yang Hao didn’t know what was happening, but he sensed the wild, unbridled pride in Hun Yuan Zi’s tone, as if the invincible Hun Yuan Zi from thousands of years ago had returned.
“Now!” Hun Yuan Zi, as if tired, smiled gently, “Let there be light.”
Let there be light—there was nothing difficult about that.
Yang Hao exhaled gently, and immediately a flame bloomed in his palm, bringing brilliant light into the sinister dragon cave.
But the flame flickered violently in an instant. Yang Hao looked up and saw a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life. Not far from him, at most a hundred meters away, a giant beast sat in deep thought like a statue.
A dragon!
What should a dragon look like in people’s minds? In ancient times, Chinese people believed dragons had snake-like bodies and were auspicious beings that could fly through the nine heavens. But later, it was proven that dragons in the universe usually had broad wings and massive bodies as tall as buildings, with fierce expressions and teeth capable of spewing fire at any moment.
There were even more terrifying rumors about the Cadis dragon clan, making Yang Hao always believe these dragons should be unimaginably fierce and hideous—like aliens, with heads as large as several mountains, their teeth dripping with the blood of their victims.
But now, Yang Hao’s light trembled. The first thing he saw was a pair of eyes—an unimaginable pair of eyes. These eyes contained no trace of beastly ferocity; instead, they were filled with wisdom, like still water, like ancient wells that had remained motionless for countless years, silently enduring their loneliness.
And the massive body of the Cadis dragon wasn’t as terrifying as Xing Mei described. Although its huge frame nearly filled half the cave, even with its wings folded, it still exuded the majesty of soaring through the skies. Though its skin was an eerie mix of gray and red, the dragon remained still and silent, even more motionless than a sculpture—seemingly nothing to fear.
But Yang Hao felt more fear than ever. When his gaze shifted from the dragon to its surroundings, his body trembled like a sieve, nearly collapsing to the ground.
Right next to the great Cadis dragon was a row of what looked like incubators, but inside, there were no baby dragons. Instead, there was a neat row of human skeletons. These skeletons were intact, as if they hadn’t died violently, but rather had their skin and flesh rot and peel away simultaneously, leaving only bones behind.
Even more inexplicably, each skull had a strangely shaped baby bottle in its open mouth. Inside the bottles glowed a faint green light, the contents unknown.
“What the hell is going on?” Scared by the surroundings, Yang Hao noticed the dragon had been staring at him the entire time without making a sound. “You… you’re supposed to be some kind of dragon—why don’t you speak up? Just tell me plainly whether I live or die.”
But the Cadis dragon remained completely still, as if it couldn’t hear Yang Hao at all, completely ignoring him, still silently staring.
“Can’t even stare someone to death?” Though his heart quivered with fear, Yang Hao’s mouth remained defiant. “Pathetic gods! Can’t even talk—are you mute?”
“It did speak,” Hun Yuan Zi suddenly sighed, his voice filled with despondency. “It has been speaking to me all along.”
“Speaking to you? How come I can’t hear anything?” Yang Hao felt puzzled. “Could this cursed dragon have racial discrimination? Does it dislike handsome, talented young men like me?”
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