Recap
When the bell tolled and the world trembled, it was a young man in silver who sat at the head of the table at the dragon feast.
The hall was resplendent, filled with the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation. Golden light shimmered in the cups, mingling with the vibrant colors of his attire, like a swirling galaxy. Favored by the universe, born of the stars, he had arrived during the Dragon Clan’s most prosperous era. The wealth of the world lay at his feet, and the entire star sea awaited his golden gaze.
And then, he went to capture a princess.
Long Shiyu recalled this, a smile spreading across his face.
Shen Chaomu felt a pang of sympathy. The orphan dragon’s past must have been a brutal struggle against hostile peers. Yet, here he was, still smiling with that carefree innocence.
Shen Chaomu patted Long Shiyu’s shoulder, offering reassurance. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m here for you. And I’ll…I’ll tell you bedtime stories when we get back.”
___
Long Shiyu stood on the swaying rubber boat, ready to board the Yermak. He and Shen Chaomu had just returned from confirming the Pied Piper’s location. The distance between the stairs and the small boat was considerable. As he prepared to jump, Shen Chaomu caught him by the back of his collar and lifted him onto the deck.
Lu Shanhuai, witnessing this, raised an eyebrow. “Why are you lifting him like a sack of potatoes?”
“Convenient,” Shen Chaomu replied simply.
“I always wonder how a stoic, straight-laced man like you managed to get a wife,” Lu Shanhuai mused.
Shen Chaomu coughed, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
Long Shiyu returned to his room, showered, and changed into clean clothes. Donning loose-fitting loungewear and his little yellow duck slippers, he went to find his princess.
Shen Chaomu was talking to Lu Shanhuai in his room. Long Shiyu knocked and entered, then promptly sprawled on Shen Chaomu’s bed, wrapped himself in a quilt, and started playing cards on his phone.
“We’ve discovered that the bone nests’ structure is very unstable,” Lu Shanhuai was explaining. “The most effective method is to destroy them with underwater explosives. Uther’s magic is perfect for that. But regardless of the method, we need to target the base of the lair.”
“So, the key is the substrate?” Shen Chaomu asked.
“Yes. When my brother was researching the poison, he also studied the substrate’s secretions. For humans, the liquid is foul-smelling and toxic, but for skeletal mermaids, it’s extremely nutritious. They bring corpses back to the lair, and some of the flesh and blood decomposes into these secretions. After about forty-eight hours, the secretions harden and become part of the lair’s base.” Lu Shanhuai flipped through Lu Shanyao’s report. “As long as the secretions remain, the mermaid eggs will continue to hatch.”
“But there’s a problem,” he continued. “The lair’s base is completely integrated with the ground. They can’t be separated. Every lair we’ve destroyed, we’ve had to destroy the surrounding area as well.”
“So?” Shen Chaomu said. “I don’t think there’s any place we can’t destroy.”
Lu Shanhuai hesitated. “True,” he admitted. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”
He often relied on his instincts, honed from countless commands, instinctive reactions, and judgments on the training grounds. It was this intuition that had raised doubts when he saw Long Shiyu’s powerful punch, and that had compelled him to repeatedly send the president’s novels to Shen Chaomu.
“With you and Uther here, dealing with the siren shouldn’t be a problem,” Lu Shanhuai said. “But we know so little about the skeletal mermaids and the siren. The main issue is that we can’t find them underwater.”
“That’s just a matter of time,” Shen Chaomu said. “I’m more worried about her arranging another musical score like the one near the main island. Her spiritual power wasn’t that strong initially, but the ‘Song of the Siren’ stave amplified it, which in turn triggered the skeletal mermaids’ frenzy.”
“We’ve been monitoring that,” Lu Shanhuai said. “We haven’t found a large concentration of corpses. Around a dozen have been registered; the full report will be available in ten minutes.” He glanced at the time and got up. “I should get back to the command room. You two rest well. Oh, and Fang Qing beat up the wise man.”
“Not surprised at all,” Shen Chaomu said. “Where is he now?”
“In the infirmary with an ice pack on his face. Judging by his yelling, he’s in good spirits.”
Shen Chaomu shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t die.”
Lu Shanhuai left.
Long Shiyu, having just lost all his virtual currency in the card game, looked at Shen Chaomu expectantly. “Where’s my story?”
“It’s not nighttime yet.”
“Okay.” Long Shiyu’s disappointment was palpable.
“I have to go out on patrol and bring Uther back,” Shen Chaomu said. “You stay on the ship.”
“I want to go too.”
“The boat is full. It’s not far; I should be back within half an hour. Don’t wander off.”
“Okay.” Long Shiyu nodded.
Shen Chaomu had already started to leave, but he paused and turned back, his expression dubious. “Are you sure you won’t wander off?”
“No.” Long Shiyu yawned, his tail swishing on the bed. “You’ll be back when I wake up from my nap, right?” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Can you give me a goodnight…a good-afternoon kiss?”
Shen Chaomu hesitated. He felt that his impulsive actions that night had been inappropriate. “Let’s wait until I get back,” he said.
Rejected by the princess, Long Shiyu’s tail drooped.
“Sleep well.” Shen Chaomu closed the door, and the sound of his footsteps faded.
Long Shiyu rolled around with the pillow, read the news on his terminal, and rolled around some more. Five minutes passed, and he began to miss the princess.
Long Shiyu built a nest with the quilt, but the unfamiliar bedding was too soft. It was lopsided and collapsed several times before he managed to create a delicate, stable structure. He burrowed inside, then, with a deft flick of his tail, snagged a scarf from the back of a chair. It was the gray-red scarf Shen Chaomu had bought for him, the one Shen Chaomu himself had worn just yesterday. The pleasant scent lingered. In the absence of his evil dragon treasure chest, this was his most prized possession.
Long Shiyu pressed the soft fabric against his cheek, nuzzling it contentedly. With his tail curled protectively around his treasure in classic evil dragon fashion, he drifted off to sleep.
Twenty minutes later, he woke with a jolt. The wound on his abdomen burned. His eyes had turned the molten gold color of a predator. He scrambled out of bed, barefoot, and headed for his room at the end of the corridor.
His blood thrummed, urging him onward. Reaching his door, he kicked it open. The heavy metal buckled and flew inward.
The room was empty. Sea wind whipped through the shattered windows, carrying the salty tang of the ocean and the faintest hint of roses. The intruder had departed recently.
Long Shiyu walked to his bedside. A single red rose lay there, atop a beige envelope. The envelope was thick and heavy, made of an oddly soft material. A red wax seal bore the imprint of a rose.
Long Shiyu tore it open. Elegant script filled the thick paper, alongside several portraits of him. There he was, reclining on his throne, standing beneath a flowering tree, and in a desolate wasteland. Most were figments of the artist’s imagination, yet the details were meticulous, his likeness captured with uncanny accuracy. It was as if the artist had conjured these images countless times.
The words on the letter overflowed with passionate declarations of love, desire, and longing. Long Shiyu barely glanced at them before dragon breath ignited in his hand, reducing everything to ash.
Fifteen minutes later, somewhere in the Land of Eternal Night, a team of hunters investigated the waters near a pod of spouting whales.
“Look, this is a photo of me and Mr. Shen,” the young hunter said.
Song Qianqian glanced at it. “When was this taken?”
“Right after our first dive,” the hunter replied. “He’s such a nice person.”
Song Qianqian blew a red bubble with her gum and smiled. “Indeed.”
The hunter put away the terminal and tore open a bag of peanuts: “I should ask him for an autograph someday… ahhhhhhhhh”
A pale hand emerged from the icy water, resting on the side of the boat. Slender and beautiful, it appeared with unsettling suddenness. The radar hadn’t detected any movement.
Song Qianqian’s eyes narrowed. She drew her weapon, took aim, and was about to fire when a figure swiftly pulled itself onto the deck.
Song Qianqian stared, dumbfounded. It was Long Shiyu, dripping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead. They were in the middle of the icy sea, the nearest landfall five kilometers away.
“The skeletal mermaids are coming,” Long Shiyu announced, water dripping from his chin. “They aren’t targeting you, but their lair is nearby. If you head southeast at full speed, you should be able to avoid them.”
“You…you…” Song Qianqian stammered, still in shock. “Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for someone,” Long Shiyu replied. “I was just passing by and thought I’d warn you.” He looked at the young hunter. “Your peanuts smell good.”
The hunter, startled, looked at the bag of peanuts he had just opened and offered them with a trembling hand. “Do you…do you want some?”
“Thank you.” Long Shiyu took the peanuts with a happy smile, then turned and jumped back into the icy water, leaving the two hunters staring after him in stunned silence.
The young hunter suddenly straightened, his eyes shining with renewed determination. “Even when it comes to finding a partner, Mr. Shen is exceptional,” he declared. “As expected, outstanding people stick together. I have to work harder!”
Song Qianqian pressed her hand to her forehead. “Don’t you think there’s something strange about this…?”
She was worried about Long Shiyu and wondered who he was looking for. Then she remembered Shen Chaomu telling her that Long Shiyu was a strange beast with special blood that allowed him to sense other dragons.
What had Shen Chaomu called him? A lizardman? She had never heard of such a creature, but it sounded powerful. She shook her head, deciding to trust Shen Chaomu’s judgment. He always had everything under control.
…
A pot sat on the ice, heated by compressed fuel. The water bubbled and boiled. Further away stood four or five mercenary tents. The girl, cheeks flushed from the cold, wrapped a rag around the pot’s handle and carefully lifted it.
Boiling water poured out, releasing white steam that curled in the frigid air. Tea leaves swirled in the steaming pot.
Augusta sat beside her, shivering. “Is the tea ready yet? I’m freezing to death.”
“Almost, almost,” Karen replied, handing him a cup. “Careful, it’s hot.”
Augusta, impatient, gulped it down without a word. His face and neck instantly flushed crimson. He sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
A handful of snow was shoved into his mouth. His burned tongue went numb from the cold. Augusta spat out the snow, his words slurred. “What was that for?”
Karen wrung her hands. “I, I saw you were burned. Are you okay?”
Augusta, recovering, waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Really?” Karen’s worry was evident.
“Really.” He took a deep breath and looked at the vast ice sea. “I wonder when the boss will be back.”
Karen sat on a small stool, clutching her cup of tea. “He’s a strange person,” she mused. “Why is he targeting Mr. Mantis?”
“It’s a secret,” Augusta replied.
Behind the mercenary tents lay a dozen mantis corpses. The skeletal mermaids returning from the ice sea brought more. This battle had been a decisive victory for the mermaids. After all, the mantises could fly, while the mermaids were confined to the sea, their combat effectiveness significantly reduced on land.
Under the “boss’s” instructions, Karen had commanded the mermaids to target a large group of mantises out on a hunting expedition. The ice floe they were on was unstable, and under the repeated assaults of the skeletal mermaids, it had shattered. Unable to gather enough spiritual power to form cumulonimbus clouds for escape, and weakened by their injuries and the scarcity of food in the Land of Eternal Night, the mantises had been at a severe disadvantage. With few places to land in the vast icy sea, they had been easy targets.
In the end, almost all the mantises were wiped out, with only a few lucky ones escaping back to the depths of the glacier.
“Many of my friends have died,” Karen said, her voice tinged with sadness. “Their defenses are weak now. If Akasa Mo comes, I won’t be able to stop him.”
“Won’t they come back after finding more corpses?” Augusta reassured her. “It’s okay. The risk is worth it. With the boss here, no one can hurt us. And the Dragon King is still injured; it’s no problem at all.” He paused, taking another sip of tea, this time more cautiously. “But you monsters are strange,” he remarked. “Calling those skeletal mermaids ‘friends.’”
“That’s because you can’t hear the singing under the sea,” Karen replied.
“What singing?”
“All the corpses submerged in the sea sing every full moon.” The girl took a sip of her tea. “If I turn them into mermaids, they can sing anywhere in the ocean.”
Augusta imagined the scene, a shiver running down his spine. “I’m glad I can’t hear that,” he muttered.
He watched as Karen pulled out a familiar book of poetry: Starlight is Like Your Skirt, by Edgeworth Murphy.
“Why are you reading that again?” he asked.
“He wrote it for me.”
“Why wasn’t it published?” Augusta scoffed. “I can’t even find your Mr. Murphy on the terminal. He’s a failure as a poet.”
Mercenaries were known for their bluntness. Karen, however, wasn’t offended. She simply smiled. “He was just a small poet, not famous at all. Even back then, no more than ten people knew his work.”
Her smile was so pure that Augusta was momentarily speechless. “Then why did you get together with him?” he finally asked. “And why do you still miss him after all these years?”
“Why couldn’t we be together?”
“You were a princess,” Augusta pointed out. “Even if you were adopted, you were still royalty. You were a hero when you confronted Lilith. Why bother with him?”
“It wasn’t about making things difficult for myself, and I didn’t ‘follow’ him.” The girl turned another page of the poetry collection. “We went to see the sea and the moonlight together. He was inspired to write, and I learned new songs from the waves. Isn’t that a good thing?” She looked at Augusta and smiled. “Like my adoptive parents or Mr. Murphy, liking someone is a beautiful thing in itself. You’ll understand one day.”
Augusta looked away, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. “I won’t have that,” he declared gruffly. “My biggest dream is to kill the Dragon King and prove that that bastard Shen Chaomu is nothing compared to me.”
Karen just smiled, a knowing look in her eyes.
A figure appeared in the distance. It was a man in an old suit, his vest accentuating the strong lines of his body. His face was pale, his lips bloodless. He looked to be in his thirties or forties, with a coldly handsome face.
Shen Di held a blooming rose. Several thorns had pierced his flesh, and blood trickled down the stem, but he seemed to feel no pain.
“Boss, you’re finally back,” Augusta said. “Where were you? We even boiled a pot of tea.”
“I went to the ship to see my little lover,” Shen Di said, a chilling smile spreading across his face. “I’m happy to see he’s still as cute as ever.” He gestured towards the distant ice sea. “Then I dealt with a few mantises.”
Karen subtly frowned, drawing her feet closer. She didn’t like this man. He was human, yet he carried the scent of strange beasts, the smell of dragons particularly strong. And she noticed a large white mark on his right wrist, a scar that looked as if skin and flesh had been ripped away. It looked familiar, like the scars she had seen on the mantises.
Augusta and Shen Di were discussing something about the Yermak. Karen lowered her eyes, smoothing her skirt, and continued reading her book of poems. Hundreds of years had passed, and she had read this collection countless times, each word etched in her memory.
She was somewhat shy. When not immersed in her singing, she felt uneasy around strangers. Lately, this feeling had intensified, and only the poetry collection could soothe her anxieties. She wanted everyone to remember Mr. Murphy and his poems, no matter the cost.
Her hand turned another page, and Karen froze. Something was wrong. The singing of the skeletal mermaids beneath the waves was fading rapidly, an abnormal phenomenon unlike anything she had experienced before. It was as if a sharp blade had sliced through a churning vortex.
The mermaids were exhausted after the battle with the mantises, in an unprecedentedly weak state, but they shouldn’t be this vulnerable. Unless…unless…
A wave of fear washed over her. Even standing on the thick ice, she felt exposed and vulnerable.
“There’s something—” Karen started to shout, but her warning was cut short.
The ice beneath her feet cracked like a spiderweb, revealing the shattered bones of skeletal mermaids—ferocious and distorted, ribs bent, spines broken, utterly unrecognizable.
Dozens of tons of ice crumbled, crushed as easily as paper. Karen stumbled backward, her eyes wide with terror. As if in slow motion, she saw her blond hair flying, the porcelain cup falling from her hand, tea scattering in the wind.
And then she saw him, his brilliant form and molten gold eyes.
Death loomed. “Aka—” she choked out, but her cry was cut short.
Karen realized that Long Shiyu wasn’t coming for her. He moved past her, his fully transformed right hand crushing Shen Di’s head.
___
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