Recap
The missile struck. The collision with the star alloy sent a colossal wave surging outward, rocking the ship violently. The ocean trembled.
A blinding light exploded, a miniature sun burning even as it hit the icy water. It blazed through the window, turning their figures into stark silhouettes.
Despite their proximity, the shaking of the ship made it impossible for Long Shiyu to hear anything beyond a muffled roar. The white and orange light painted half of Shen Chaomu’s face, highlighting his sharp features like a portrait.
He smiled. Had he ever been in love? The question didn’t matter anymore. Shen Chaomu was his princess now.
But in that blinding light, he saw Shen Chaomu mouth the words, “No. Never.”
His eyes held the reflection of the setting sun, a bright, burning light.
Shen Chaomu waited until the echoes of the missile blast faded before leaving again. Long Shiyu wanted to go with him, but Shen Chaomu promised to return quickly and helped him tidy his nest of blankets.
“I’m really a fire dragon,” Long Shiyu insisted as Shen Chaomu tucked the quilt around him.
“Of course you are,” Shen Chaomu replied, smoothing the blankets. “But shouldn’t fire dragons be more afraid of the cold?”
“Fire dragons are hot; how could we be afraid of the cold?”
“The greater the temperature difference, the faster the cooling,” Shen Chaomu said. “Basic thermophysics.”
Long Shiyu frowned. “But my fire is endless.”
“If you lose heat continuously, you’ll get colder.”
Long Shiyu pondered this, trying to determine if it made sense. Fire dragons shouldn’t be afraid of the cold, but the princess’s words seemed logical…
Shen Chaomu smiled at his perplexed expression. “Don’t overthink it. Go back to sleep. I’ll be back after checking the bridge.”
Long Shiyu lay in bed, watching as the princess turned off the light and gently closed the door. The room was dark, the sound of the waves hypnotic. He appeared to be still, but in reality…
He was too excited to sleep.
He closed his eyes, and the image of Shen Chaomu filled his mind. His heart fluttered, his tail wagging excitedly beneath the covers. He was consumed with thoughts of his handsome princess.
After a few minutes, he got up and tried to distract himself with a card game on his terminal.
Bomb. Unplayable.
Three with one. Unplayable.
Three. Unplayable.
His tail drooped. The evil dragon was bankrupt again.
He set the terminal aside but couldn’t resist the urge to find Shen Chaomu. He got out of bed and headed for the door. After a few steps, he remembered that Shen Chaomu would be angry if he saw him without his coat. He turned back to retrieve it from the hanger.
As he reached for it, he froze. The pain in his wound flared, and he sensed Shen Di’s presence.
Seconds later, the shadow of vast wings swept across the sea, unnoticed. Long Shiyu followed Shen Di’s spiritual trail, arriving near the Damocles Bridge. Shen Chaomu had been right: the high-precision missile lacked destructive power. The sight before him was one of devastation.
The towering pillar was bent in half, thick black smoke billowing from the impact site, obscuring the stardust. Molten metal had splashed into the icy sea, solidifying into jagged black masses. The star-black iron at the top still glowed red, the air rippling with heat. The wind seemed to ignite as it passed, creating the illusion of a fiery sword plunged into the ocean.
The bridge deck, designed to support thousands of tons, was tilted precariously toward the sea. The immortal spectacle of the Bei En Dynasty was slowly succumbing to ruin.
With the pillar still partially intact, a portion of the lair’s base remained. Hunters swarmed the deck, and the command room buzzed with frantic discussions. The missile needed forty minutes to cool down, and they were unsure of the siren’s next move.
Long Shiyu landed on the side of the pillar, the red-hot metal unable to harm him. Heat and flames were his allies.
From a certain angle, the tilted pillar resembled a small platform. Though still dizzyingly high, it offered a place to rest. The ocean stretched out below, dotted with the lights of warships.
Long Shiyu scanned the empty bridge, his terminal buzzing incessantly. Shen Chaomu must have detected his proximity. But he couldn’t allow Shen Di to reach the princess.
Moments later, other figures appeared on the bridge – dozens of black mantises, led by Black Sickle. Fragments of mermaid bone clung to their scythes.
“Dragon, we meet again,” Black Sickle hissed.
“Are you here for him too?” Long Shiyu asked.
“Blood debts must be paid in blood. He has slaughtered our people. Even if we die, we will defend our settlement’s honor.”
“But you can’t defeat him and the siren.”
“Our strength is limited now,” Black Sickle acknowledged. “We can only test the enemy, again and again. But when Wilpan returns to our clan, all our enemies will perish.”
“Wilpan?” Long Shiyu was startled. “He’s dead.”
The mantises hissed amongst themselves, their communication a flurry of clicks and chirps. “Dragon, you are too arrogant,” Black Sickle finally replied. “The spirits of our settlement are connected. He is still alive…or at least, another part of him lives.”
Long Shiyu recalled the incident in Cassandra. The association hadn’t recovered Wilpan’s body. He had been certain of his kill, but Shen Chaomu, focused on finding him, hadn’t confirmed it. Perhaps that was the oversight that allowed Wilpan to survive.
He didn’t dwell on it, his attention returning to Shen Di. He concentrated, sensing the faint traces of the man’s spiritual energy. Tracking without his own spiritual power was laborious, but he knew Shen Di’s signature intimately, just as he had on the glacier. He would find him.
Long Shiyu spread his wings and soared in the indicated direction, the wind whipping through his hair. A faint melody drifted towards him.
Was that…a ballroom dance?
A lone figure strolled along the tilted bridge deck, clad in a black suit, a crimson rose pinned to his chest. He hummed the waltz, arms outstretched as if embracing an invisible partner. He twirled, his usually meticulous hair disheveled by the wind.
“We meet again,” Shen Di said, a chilling smile on his face, his eyes burning.
The dim, translucent glow of his spiritual energy pulsed around him, casting grotesque shadows that writhed and twisted—a mantis’s scythe, a griffin’s wings, a grotesque horn, the claws of some unknown beast.
As his power surged, the shadows gained form, rising from the ground like phantoms in a horror film. Their faces were contorted, half-human, half-beast, their bodies ranging from ten meters tall to the size of an adult human. Any veteran hunter would recognize these infamous monsters, each a former contender for the throne.
Saliva dripped from their jaws, their panting turning to guttural growls as they lunged toward Long Shiyu, the current king.
A spark of dragon breath ignited in Long Shiyu’s palm, a tiny flame that defied the encroaching darkness. The scene seemed to slow, the light illuminating his face and the grotesque forms surrounding him. A scythe lifted, claws extended, a barbed tail poised to strike. Their eyes, even in shadow form, held a mixture of malice, madness, and a desperate hunger.
Long Shiyu recognized most of them, past rivals and those he had never faced. They had boasted of their ambitions, their desire to overthrow the Dragon King, to rule the universe. But none had dared claim the title of king since he ascended.
Dragon breath flared, Long Shiyu’s eyes burning gold. “A mere rabble,” he scoffed.
Before the flames could erupt, golden snowflakes fell from the sky. Long Shiyu stared, momentarily stunned. He turned and saw the unwavering flame of an oil lamp at the far end of the bridge.
Shen Chaomu, his expression grim, adjusted his black gloves. He slowly walked toward Shen Di.
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