Recap
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.
___
Dark blood splattered across the ice. It wasn’t the bright red of human blood, but a murky, chaotic mixture, shot through with streaks of unnatural colors that writhed like sinister snakes. The oppressive spiritual energy lingered, enveloping Karen, Augusta, and the headless corpse. Under the eternal night, the surrounding landscape turned monochrome, like an old photograph desaturated by a photographer’s whim. Flames dimmed, stars vanished, and even Karen’s vibrant dress dulled.
Long Shiyu clicked his tongue, the wound on his abdomen burning. It always ached when he was near Shen Di, even this diseased imitation. This wasn’t the Shen Di who had single-handedly defeated the sky settlement and driven the mantises to Bei En—that was the true Shen Di, the one revered as a hero by the dragon-hunting family.
Beneath his claws lay not only flesh and blood, but layers of white powder. Even this weakened form was a formidable hunter, more than capable of dealing with the occasional mantis.
Long Shiyu had shattered this body countless times, yet Shen Di always returned, sometimes after years, sometimes after mere minutes. He would reappear, bearing the traits of various strange beasts—a wolf’s ferocity, an eagle’s sharpness, a dragon’s rage. He was a lingering ghost, unbound by time, his methods a mystery to Long Shiyu.
He would appear, holding roses, talking and laughing, his eyes filled with a morbid madness. You can destroy my body, he seemed to say, but can you destroy my heart?
It was the heart of a “hero,” and a “hero’s” destiny was to crusade against “evil dragons.” Like a withered, vicious vine, they were forever entangled, drawing blood until one or both perished. I crave you, his presence seemed to whisper, I pursue you, I want to see you fall from your throne.
The icy waves of the sea stretched into the distance. The oppressive spiritual energy still pulsed. Long Shiyu unfurled his wings, their silver expanse shimmering with a metallic sheen. With a powerful beat, the wind pressure shattered the ice, sending Augusta tumbling into the sea. A skeletal mermaid caught him before he sank.
“Damn it,” Augusta gasped, his voice hoarse with shock.
He calmed himself, reminding himself that the boss knew Long Shiyu well. This attack meant Long Shiyu wouldn’t harm them. But the raw power displayed was terrifying, exceeding anything he could have imagined. Augusta wasn’t old enough to have witnessed the era of the old Dragon King, but now he truly understood the fearsome strength required to dethrone such a creature.
He turned to the girl beside him, about to speak, but she was in a trance. The icy waters of Bei En embraced her like a precious jewel, shielding her from the sharp shards of ice.
“We must gather the mermaids quickly,” Karen murmured, her long, sunlight-colored hair swirling around her. “Otherwise…we won’t be able to compete with him.” Her eyes had become blue vertical slits, and the aquamarine necklace around her neck glowed with an eerie luminescence. She coughed, light blood staining the water.
The glacier beneath them was receding rapidly. An immense force lifted Long Shiyu into the air, carrying him swiftly across the vast expanse of sea. He wasn’t particularly sensitive to spiritual tracking, but he knew Shen Di’s energy signature intimately and could follow it with ease.
Where was he?
The spiritual fluctuations were fading. The headless corpse was no longer useful; Shen Di’s power would naturally withdraw. But if a puppet existed here, then Shen Di himself must be somewhere on this planet.
And that letter…the letter in his room. Why had Shen Di done such a thing? It wasn’t like him to be so flamboyant. His blood ran cold, cautious, and calculating. He knew Long Shiyu could track his spiritual energy, yet he had left that message.
Long Shiyu stopped mid-flight and turned abruptly. Stardust obscured his vision, but in the far distance, he saw a blossoming light on the sea, immense and brilliant.
…
Shen Chaomu leaped onto the Yermak, gripping the deck railing. A section of the massive icebreaker was submerged, and the attending ships had stabilized it with ropes and equipment, preventing it from sinking further.
Five minutes ago, the engine room had exploded. Flames still raged, and the logistics team battled the blaze. The extent of the damage was unknown. All hunters except those who had been working in the engine room were now aboard lifeboats and warships.
Shen Chaomu didn’t see Long Shiyu. A nearby hunter approached to explain the situation, but Shen Chaomu brushed past him, hurrying towards the residential area. His room was empty, the bed Long Shiyu had slept in was cold.
Long Shiyu’s room was at the end of the corridor. As he approached, he saw the heavy metal door had been kicked open, bent and deformed. Shen Chaomu’s heart lurched. Inside, the room was tidy, but the windows were shattered. There was no sign of a struggle, but Long Shiyu was gone.
Chaotic spiritual energy lingered in the room. A hunter shouldn’t let emotions cloud his judgment. Shen Chaomu closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Though his heart pounded with worry, he forced himself to assess the situation.
The residual spiritual energy was unfamiliar. It wasn’t anyone he had encountered before. There were ashes on the floor, remnants of something burned by dragon breath. Beside the ashes lay a single red rose.
Its thorns were still intact. Shen Chaomu picked it up, recognizing it instantly as an origami rose from the Thousandfold Galaxy. The petals were unique, hundreds of delicate layers folded into a bud no larger than an ordinary rose. Each petal, thin as a cicada’s wing, would be almost translucent in sunlight. In full bloom, it would be a magnificent sight, like a thousand skirts unfurling.
Origami roses were rare, especially one this vibrant, its red as intense as the midday sun, with an almost bloody sheen. Such a flower was one in ten thousand.
Who had given it to Long Shiyu? And where was Long Shiyu now?
Anxiety gnawed at him. Shen Chaomu’s grip tightened on the rose, its thorns pricking his fingers unnoticed. He tucked the flower away, about to leave and continue his search, when he heard the flapping of wings. Or rather, his heightened senses “heard” it from several kilometers away.
The sound was unmistakable—wings slicing through the air, approaching the ship with terrifying speed. The dragon-hunting instincts ingrained in his blood screamed a warning. This was a powerful dragon, a threat. Was it attacking the ship? Hunting humans? Did it have anything to do with the siren? His fighting spirit surged. He looked out the window, searching the churning stardust—
And saw Long Shiyu fly past.
Shen Chaomu stared.
Oh, he’s fine then.
A moment later, Long Shiyu was clinging to the window, wings folded. “You’re back!” he chirped, his expression a mixture of relief and delight.
Shen Chaomu took a deep breath, reminding himself to be patient with the silly dragon. The orphaned, silly dragon. The weak, helpless, orphaned, silly dragon.
Long Shiyu tried to get back inside, but the window was too narrow. He couldn’t fit through without retracting his wings, and the hull was too slippery to get a good grip. He kicked his feet uselessly, his tail whipping about.
“Your horns,” Shen Chaomu instructed.
Long Shiyu obediently presented his horns and was promptly hauled inside.
“Don’t shake me, don’t shake me!”
Shen Chaomu’s voice was tight with barely suppressed anger. “Didn’t you promise not to wander off?”
“I didn’t wander off,” Long Shiyu whined. “I just went for a little fly. Ahhhh, don’t shake me!”
“I should buy a child leash and tie you up.” Shen Chaomu’s frustration grew. “Why do you always run off? Did you meet someone named Schrödinger or Brown?”
Long Shiyu quickly wrapped his tail around Shen Chaomu’s wrist. “Don’t be angry,” he pleaded. “I’ll be good. Although, I didn’t exactly guard the ship…” His voice trailed off, realizing his mistake. His eyes fell on Shen Chaomu’s hand. The small wound from the rose was bleeding.
“You’re hurt!” Long Shiyu fretted. “Should I lick it better?”
“No, no, no!” Shen Chaomu pushed Long Shiyu’s head away. He was about to speak when he frowned, sensing the unfamiliar spiritual energy clinging to Long Shiyu. The image of that rare, extravagant rose flashed in his mind. He felt a surge of understanding, a suspicion taking root.
He rubbed his brow. “I’ll scold you later,” he said. “We need to go to the engine room.”
“Ying.” QAQ
Long Shiyu followed Shen Chaomu to the Yermak’s engine room.
“His grandma’s ‘Giant’ core is probably destroyed,” Yang Zhiming declared, standing on one foot and using his mechanical prosthetic leg to knock on the railing.
“Can the ship still sail?” Shen Chaomu asked.
“Yes, but it will take time, a lot of time,” Yang Zhiming said. “It’s complicated to explain the hull structure, but simply put, the rear half exploded due to overload, causing the flooding. The core exploded, taking out the main power cabin. The coal and oil reserves also ignited, and the explosion’s heat wave blew out most of our heat dissipation gates.”
“Just tell me what hasn’t been blown up,” Shen Chaomu said dryly.
Yang Zhiming considered this. “Well, the deck is still fine, and the air conditioning works.”
“How helpful. Should we all go down with the ship and have a party with the skeletal mermaids?”
“You’re welcome to,” Yang Zhiming said with a sigh. “Although the fire isn’t completely out, and I can’t fully assess the core area, it’s definitely sabotage. Safety inspections on heavy icebreakers are rigorous. The heat dissipation system and spare pressure compartments can withstand significant overload; the core doesn’t just explode for no reason.”
“The ship is out of commission for now,” he continued. “Even if we tow it back to the shipyard, repairs will take significant resources and at least ten days. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“There are no large-scale glaciers on the three main waterways; traffic is smooth,” Shen Chaomu said. “Losing the icebreaker isn’t fatal.”
“True,” Yang Zhiming agreed, bending down to reattach his prosthetic leg. “But the enemy wouldn’t sabotage the ship without a reason. And the heavy icebreaker is our only vessel that can withstand the skeletal mermaids’ attacks.” He sighed. “They chose a time when you and Uther were both away. I suggest considering salvaging the Pied Piper. The last scan showed that repairing it would be much simpler than fixing the Yermak.”
“Definitely,” Shen Chaomu agreed.
Long Shiyu fidgeted, guilt gnawing at him. Shen Di had lured him away at the worst possible time. He hadn’t considered the consequences, too used to his solitary wanderings. How could he have imagined his absence would jeopardize the princess’s icebreaker?
Through the lingering heat in the engine room, he sensed Shen Di’s spiritual energy. He wondered if Shen Chaomu, with his superior abilities, could also detect it.
The wound on his abdomen throbbed. It was an unpleasant reminder of his connection to Shen Di. He needed to eliminate Shen Di here and now, prevent him from ever getting close to Shen Chaomu again.
Long Shiyu silently licked his little canine teeth, and then quietly looked up at his princess.
The princess is still so pretty.
Long Shiyu’s mood immediately improved again.
Shen Chaomu simply nodded and said to Yang Zhiming, “Let me know the status of the core, and I’ll discuss salvaging the Pied Piper with Lu Shanhuai.”
“Okay.” Yang Zhiming rolled up his sleeves and joined the firefighting effort, shouting to the other hunters, “Hurry up, we might be able to save more equipment.”
Long Shiyu returned to Shen Chaomu’s room. Despite the tilted deck, Bei En’s maritime safety measures were excellent. The crippled ship wouldn’t sink for now, and there was no risk of further explosions. The hunters could still move around safely.
During the video conference with the other commanders and hunters, Shen Chaomu kept Long Shiyu within sight. Long Shiyu lay on the soft carpet, playing cards on his terminal. The position grew uncomfortable after a while, and he had just gotten up when Shen Chaomu grabbed his tail, pulling him back down.
“Ying!” Long Shiyu whispered.
“Can we decide about the salvage operation within three hours?” Shen Chaomu asked, his face serious as he tugged on Long Shiyu’s tail. “I’ve brought Uther back; either of us can ensure safety during the salvage.”
Unable to break free, Long Shiyu lay on the floor and continued his game. No one suspected that their esteemed leader was holding a dragon captive during the meeting.
When the meeting finally ended, Shen Chaomu turned off the terminal and released Long Shiyu’s tail.
“Are you going to sleep?” Long Shiyu asked, sitting up. “You’ve been busy all day.”
“Yes.” Shen Chaomu glanced at the time. “But in four hours, I’m going to the shipyard. Yang Zhiming concluded that someone used spiritual power to destroy the core. They must be familiar with the ship’s structure—fast, accurate, and ruthless. They destroyed the most critical components and sabotaged others along the heat dissipation channels.”
“Okay. Can I go to the shipyard with you?”
Shen Chaomu hesitated, then said, “You have to. Otherwise, next time, I’ll find you spinning next to the siren.”
“I’d never do that!” Long Shiyu said, aghast.
Shen Chaomu, unconvinced, tightened his grip on the dragon’s tail.
Ten minutes later, Long Shiyu had built another nest on the bed.
“Where’s my bedtime story and goodnight kiss?” he asked. Then, considerately, “If you’re too tired, you can owe me the story. Just a goodnight kiss will do.”
Despite his frustration, Shen Chaomu couldn’t help but indulge the silly dragon. He turned off the light. As he wracked his brain for a suitable princess-themed story, he recalled the extravagant rose and Long Shiyu’s demonic spiritual energy.
He was certain Long Shiyu wasn’t involved in the attack on the Yermak, but the same spiritual energy lingered in the engine room. And Long Shiyu had repeatedly declared, “I like my princess the most!”
Shen Chaomu shifted uncomfortably. He was struck by the realization that he knew so little about Long Shiyu’s past—who he had met, who he cared for, what he had done. He didn’t want to pry, but perhaps Long Shiyu already had a princess in his heart, the one who had given him the origami rose.
He had selfishly kept Long Shiyu by his side, and though his feelings had changed, he had never apologized. He had been waiting for the right time, but that was just an excuse. He wasn’t usually like this, but when it came to Long Shiyu, he seemed to lose his composure.
Now that he recognized this, he had to address it, no matter how difficult. It was a matter of respect, a fundamental part of his character.
“Before the bedtime story, Long Shiyu,” Shen Chaomu began, “there’s something I need to say.”
“Okay,” Long Shiyu replied, propping himself up on his elbows, his tail wagging excitedly.
“I owe you an apology,” Shen Chaomu said, choosing his words carefully. “I was wrong. I forced you to stay with me for my own purposes. But you should have your own life. So, after the Bei En incident…” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go our separate ways.”
His heart ached as he spoke, but he also felt a sense of release. He should let Long Shiyu pursue his own desires—sparkling gems, towering castles, and beautiful princesses. After all, if the protagonist of the fairy tale was an evil dragon, then the dragon-slaying hero was the villain, wasn’t he?
Silence fell, punctuated only by the sound of the waves outside.
Long Shiyu’s tail stilled, hanging limply in the air. He looked at Shen Chaomu, starlight reflecting in his eyes, shimmering with unshed tears.
“Don’t you want me anymore?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
___
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