Recap
“Didn’t I tell you it was chili flavored?” Shen Chaomu said, his voice tight with fear. “This ship can’t withstand dragon breath.”
“Sorry,” Long Shiyu mumbled. He meant to apologize sincerely, but he couldn’t help reaching out to stroke Shen Chaomu’s back.
Shen Chaomu caught his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, nothing.” How could an evil dragon’s affections towards his princess be considered inappropriate?
Shen Chaomu’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, then widened as they fell on a small, dried bloodstain on Long Shiyu’s abdomen.
Long Shiyu glanced down at the stain, then back up at Shen Chaomu. “Ah, maybe it’s ketchup,” he mumbled, shrinking back. “Ahhh, don’t grab my horn!”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Shen Chaomu’s voice was a mixture of exasperation and concern. He longed to grab Long Shiyu and shake him, but he refrained, worried about the injury. The blood was dry, so it wasn’t a fresh wound. But how had Long Shiyu been hurt?
The mermaid attack continued; he couldn’t be distracted. Yet, the need to examine the wound gnawed at him. His golden light flakes grew more frenzied, tearing through the mermaids with brutal efficiency.
Three minutes later, having successfully prevented the mermaids from reaching the shipyard, Shen Chaomu turned the warship around. Still gripping Long Shiyu’s horn, he used his other hand to summon the medical kit. He reached for Long Shiyu’s coat.
“Ying!” Long Shiyu squeaked, trying to pull away. The thought of his wound being exposed, coupled with the princess’s sudden boldness—he had only dared to sneak a touch at the princess’s waist, and now his clothes were about to be removed! It was too much for his innocent dragon heart.
He wasn’t sure when the wound had reopened. Shen Di was on this planet, and his corrosive spiritual power was difficult to defend against. Unlike other dragons, Long Shiyu wasn’t skilled in dragon language magic or alchemy. Alchemy, especially, was a disaster whenever he attempted it.
His only real skill was breathing fire. And being strong.
“I, I bumped into something,” he stammered, clutching his jacket.
“How could a bump cause bleeding like that?”
“I bumped into it really hard!” Long Shiyu insisted, trying to back away, but his horn remained firmly in Shen Chaomu’s grasp.
“If you bump too hard, you have to show me.” Shen Chaomu broke his blocking hand and simply pulled open the zipper of his clothes.
He didn’t believe Long Shiyu’s nonsense. He had seen the wound in the same position twice in the underground black market, the arena and Cassandra.
Once is normal, twice is accidental, and the third time is definitely a problem.
He peeled off the face dragon’s clothes layer by layer like peeling an onion.
The medical kit was at hand, Long Shiyu was dragged by his dragon horns, and kept trying to make whining sounds to bewitch him, but Shen Chaomu finally awakened the instinct of an excellent hunter, this time he was extraordinarily sober, and he disliked Long Shiyu’s trouble , directly grabbed his two hands and pressed them against the wall.
Long Shiyu: “Ying.” QAQ
He wanted to break free from the princess’s restraint, but he didn’t dare to use too much force to make Shen Chaomu angry. His tail swayed anxiously, and finally he held it in his mouth.
Shen Chaomu stripped down to the home clothes layer by layer.
Sure enough, the white home clothes were stained red with blood.
He paused, his always steady hands trembled slightly, and after carefully lifting the clothes, he saw…
An unscathed abdomen.
Shen Chaomu was puzzled for a few seconds, and gently touched it with his hand.
The skin is smooth and delicate, and the warm touch is particularly good. The curve of the waist is still perfect, easy to pinch, soft and beautiful.
…The last time he saw this scene was in the underground arena. It’s just that at that time he simply thought that the dragon’s self-healing ability was strong, and the wound had healed.
But this time he was more careful, and his spiritual power slowly stroked his skin.
Long Shiyu bit his tail and said vaguely: “Ying.”
He raised his slender neck and twisted it, this time he used a little force, but Shen Chaomu pressed his shoulder against his shoulder and pressed him back against the wall.
He was stuck in the corner by the princess, and watched helplessly.
Shen Chaomu didn’t rashly use his spiritual power to undo the effect, but just wanted to see how the injury was through the illusion. His control of spiritual power was so precise and subtle, and he had specially studied the unique ability of dragon language, and he really felt it accurately——
It was a deep and ferocious wound.
There is still a faint residue of corrosive spiritual power.
In an instant, the hand holding Long Shiyu’s wrist tightened a bit, his eyes darkened, and he said word by word: “Did Shen Di do it?”
……
The water boiled, and Karen poured it into her teacup, the leaves swirling. The sunless environment was always draining. Augusta and the other mercenaries slept soundly in their tents, the wind howling around them, the Damocles Bridge looming in the distance.
Someone picked up the poetry collection she had set aside.
Karen whirled around, spiritual power surging. But the pale man simply smiled, holding Starlight is Like Your Skirt. “Miss Haina, don’t be so nervous,” he said.
He wore a magnificent origami rose on his chest, its layers of petals almost, but not quite, in full bloom. In his left hand, he held a small teddy bear, and an old-fashioned radio sat at his feet.
“I went to your castle and brought your favorite things,” Shen Di said with a smile.
He had guided Karen in many things: how to hunt sea monsters, how to arrange their bodies beneath the bridge without alerting Shen Chaomu or Akasa Mo, how to compose her new song. But she remained wary of him. His human form held the scent of monsters, of dragons.
When Augusta and the others injected the strange beast blood, they also carried that aura. But the boundary between human and beast remained clear, unlike with Shen Di.
He was like a monster himself.
Karen cautiously took the teddy bear and hugged it, her gaze falling on the radio. It was a relic from Edgeworth Murphy. When he sat by the sea, writing poetry, he would play music on this old device. Melodies and rhythms from the poet’s home planet, sounds Karen had never heard before.
Few would notice this antique. It was a secret between her and Mr. Murphy. But Shen Di had brought it to her.
“How did you know about this?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
“I saw it when I visited your room,” Shen Di replied, his tone calm and unhurried. His accent was that of the alliance’s home planet, suggesting a privileged upbringing. “Perhaps those intruders left it behind. Regardless, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy to help.” He had even brought some old tapes.
Karen hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Shen.”
Shen Di glanced at the poetry collection, then closed it and returned it to its place. “Miss Haina,” he asked, “may I have this dance?”
Karen was startled, then her royal upbringing kicked in. “Of course,” she replied. “If you’d like, there’s dance music on the radio.”
She selected a tape, placed it in the radio, and turned the dial. A melodious waltz filled the air.
On the patch of melted snow, Shen Di took her hand, his other resting gently on her back. They moved with practiced grace, their steps fluid and elegant.
But Karen couldn’t focus. As they twirled, her gaze fell on Shen Di’s wrist. The strange scars she had seen a few days ago, the ones that resembled the mantis’s wounds, were gone. It seemed unlikely they would have healed so quickly. But beneath the cuff of his old suit, she saw other marks.
Horrific burns, the skin puckered and uneven. Unlike normal burns, the flesh was strangely patterned, like thorns or claws, as if it might flake off at the slightest touch. Deeper still, she sensed layers of damaged tissue.
The scars of dragon breath. Inflicted by Akasa Mo.
Karen started slightly, then looked up at the man beside her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” Karen replied, meeting his gaze. “Mr. Shen, I apologize for my distraction.”
Shen Di chuckled, his arm tightening around her as they spun. “You’re a lovely lady; of course, it doesn’t matter.” He lowered his voice. “But it seems you weren’t able to destroy that icebreaker. With the Pied Piper, they’ll be able to go deeper into the glacier and find your true ‘heart.’”
Karen’s lips tightened.
“I can only hope your singing will be a success,” Shen Di continued. “I believe in you.”
By the time the song ended, their tea had grown cold. Shen Di rose and refilled the pot. “I’ll make you another cup,” he offered.
“Thank you,” Karen replied, smoothing her skirt as she sat.
Augusta, having woken from his nap, joined them. The other mercenaries kept their distance, uncomfortable around the siren. Augusta and Shen Di, both from dragon-hunting families, were driven by profit and ambition.
“Mr. Shen,” Karen asked, “may I ask why you’re so obsessed with Mr. Akasa Mo?”
“We’re from dragon-hunting families,” Augusta interjected, licking his chapped lips. “Of course, we’re obsessed. That bastard Shen Chaomu must be an idiot.”
“They are a strange pair,” Karen agreed with a small smile.
Shen Di simply smiled, declining to comment. He poured fresh tea for Karen and Augusta, but not for himself. Instead, he removed the origami rose from his lapel. With meticulous care, he began to unfold the delicate petals. They crumpled easily in his grasp, staining his hands a vibrant red. He wiped them carelessly, unconcerned by the blood-like color or the wounds beneath, a macabre contrast against his pale skin.
The rose, once perfect, was now a ruined bloom, its beauty destroyed in minutes. He tossed the remnants to the ground, grinding them into the snow with his boot.
Karen watched, a shiver running down her spine.
“I’m going for a walk,” Shen Di announced, rising to his feet.
“Don’t be gone long, boss,” Augusta said casually. “The lair under the bridge will be finished soon. The ‘music’ will be complete.”
Shen Di seemed not to hear him. He walked towards the endless snowfield, the red stain of the rose clinging to his hands. He hummed the waltz from their dance, his spiritual energy fluctuating around him. It wasn’t a brilliant light, but a dim, translucent glow, moving sluggishly, as if struggling against an unseen force.
And within that faint light, shadows writhed. Each shadow, stretching in different directions, held a distinct form: horns like a demon, ear-fins like a mermaid, a barbed tail, the double wings of an evil dragon.
He hummed his tune, walking deeper into the snowy expanse, a figure of darkness and unsettling contradictions.
…
“Hurry up!” a hunter yelled. “Prepare the spears!”
Skeletal mermaids swarmed toward the Pied Piper. The heavy icebreaker hadn’t fully surfaced, and hundreds of tons of salvage machinery worked feverishly. Warships formed a protective circle, their crews battling the mermaid onslaught.
Though weakened by previous encounters, the mermaids remained a formidable threat, their sharp teeth and claws a danger to the vulnerable ship. Whaling spears, fixed to the bows, were deployed, their targeting systems locking onto the creatures. Hunters assisted, guiding the blazing light spears toward the densest clusters of mermaids.
Improved signal flares arced through the air, their red light and ultrasonic waves disrupting the mermaids’ advance and preventing them from forming a cohesive attack. Bone fragments littered the churning waves. Mermaids leaped, attempting to board the ships, only to have their spines shattered by the hunters. In return, sharp teeth tore through exoskeletons, leaving bloody wounds on the defenders.
Despite the injuries and relentless assault, the hunters held their ground. They gritted their teeth, injected painkillers, and fought back, slowly gaining control of the situation.
A warship appeared in the distance, golden light flakes swirling. Brilliant light pierced the water, impaling mermaids and shattering their bones. Shen Chaomu’s arrival bolstered the hunters’ morale.
“Three more minutes!” someone yelled, the veins in his neck bulging.
Three minutes later, the Pied Piper was finally lifted clear of the water by the salvage machines. The mermaids retreated, casting lingering glances at the ship before disappearing into the depths.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Long Shiyu stood at the bow, watching the salvage vessels tow the massive icebreaker north toward the shipyard. In half an hour, they would reach safety.
The princess had been very angry, making him lift his shirt so he could bandage the wound, though they both knew it wouldn’t do much good. His condition worsened; not only did he waddle when he walked, but he could barely bend over.
Shen Chaomu, having finished issuing instructions to the hunters, returned to the ship.
Then he began to peel off the dragon’s clothes layer by layer.
Long Shiyu hurriedly dodged: “Why do you always want to watch, it’s been less than ten minutes. You, you always take off my clothes, you are a hooligan…” He almost blurted out, almost biting his tongue.
“Who knows if the wound has worsened.”
“Only ten minutes”
“That’s also possible. And you haven’t answered my question just now.” Shen Chaomu said with a very unhappy voice, “I advise you not to lie, otherwise…”
He didn’t continue, and when he got his hands on it, he peeled off the clothes again, and made sure that there was no new blood on the bandage before he felt relieved.
As soon as he let go, Long Shiyu wrapped himself up tightly again, flicked his tail unhappily, and began to plan how to touch the princess’s waist back, so as to save the crumbling dignity of the evil dragon.
Shen Chaomu looked at him and wanted to say something, when suddenly the terminal rang.
It was a warning sent by Lu Shanhuai.
A large-scale mermaid riot broke out at the bridge pier. They dared not approach rashly, but from the underwater robots released by the ship, it could be seen that the black vortex was rotating counterclockwise.
Underwater, the mouths of those mermaids opened and closed silently, their fangs bared.
At this moment, spiritual power covered a large area of the sea.
As on the main island, Shen Chaomu heard singing.
It’s just that this time it’s no longer the girl’s beautiful humming, no longer the Siren’s song, but hoarse, ear-piercing, manic.
It’s like the dead whose legs are entangled by seaweed, and cold water pours into their throats when they open their mouths to call for help, still looking at the unreachable sea before they die——
It was the eerie song of the dead.
___
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