Recap
The dragon-hunting family had attempted to study the dragon language, but its ancient script was difficult to decipher. Many concepts were lost in translation, and after years of effort, they had managed to translate very little. With the Dragon Clan gone, the urgency faded.
But they had managed to translate the old Dragon King’s name: Royano, which meant “King surrounded by thunder and lightning.”
Perhaps it was the ferocity of the storm, the way the lightning seemed to tear the sky asunder, that brought him to mind.
But the old Dragon King was dead. Akasa Mo wouldn’t be on the throne otherwise.
Shen Chaomu’s gaze drifted to the head of the bed, where the white flower Long Shiyu had given him rested. Its petals emitted a faint glow.
Long Shiyu mumbled in his sleep, words like “skirt,” “evil dragon,” and “princess’s waist” that Shen Chaomu couldn’t decipher, but they seemed to be part of a pleasant dream.
He smiled. He wondered what the name “Akasa Mo” meant. Perhaps he would ask Long Shiyu someday.
In the driver’s seat, Yang Zhiming sipped his hot milk, his metal leg tapping a rhythmic beat against the floor. The vibrant jungle stretched before them. Ten minutes more, and they would reach the northern plains. Beyond that lay the ruins of the Orcish Dynasty’s capital, a sprawling city built around an ancient tree, now dilapidated but still inhabited.
His terminal buzzed with a message about the mercenaries they had apprehended. Hunter teams were actively investigating.
“Brother Shen,” he called out, “the association sent a notice.”
“Got it,” Shen Chaomu replied from the back.
Yang Zhiming returned his attention to the road, but a flicker of movement in the trees caught his eye. The vehicle’s radar detected no spiritual fluctuations. He dismissed it as a trick of the light, but the movement reappeared a few minutes later.
This time, he was sure he wasn’t mistaken. As a logistician, his spiritual power was weak. “Brother Shen,” he called out again, “could you take a look?”
Silence met his request, punctuated by the faint sounds of Long Shiyu’s card game.
He switched to autopilot and went to investigate. The door to Long Shiyu and Shen Chaomu’s room was ajar. He knocked. “Brother Shen,” he said cautiously, “we might have a situation. I’m not sure if it’s a strange beast…”
“We know,” Long Shiyu’s voice replied calmly. “Don’t worry. You focus on driving; I’ll handle it.”
“Ying,” Shen Chaomu added.
Goosebumps erupted across Yang Zhiming’s skin. He retreated to the cockpit, his heart pounding. He took a long gulp of milk to calm his nerves, finally understanding Fang Qing’s constant complaints about their prolonged “illness.”
Shen Chaomu soon joined him in the cockpit, his demeanor back to normal. “Just some Dead Leaf Monkeys,” he reported. “Not strange beasts, so no spiritual fluctuations.”
“Should we chase them away?” Yang Zhiming asked.
“I’ll scare them off. They’re harmless, just mischievous. They like to steal from tourists. Maybe they like the smell of our vehicle.”
The aroma of Long Shiyu’s potato and beef stew wafted through the air.
Shen Chaomu’s golden spiritual power swept through the trees, branches swaying, leaves falling. The monkeys, their camouflage broken, were revealed, their fur returning to its natural brown. They screeched and fled into the depths of the forest.
The vehicle lurched as it crossed a ditch, then emerged onto a vast plain. Tall grasses, a mix of green and reddish-brown, stretched in every direction, some reaching their ankles, others waist-high.
Yang Zhiming parked the vehicle. Long Shiyu, beaming, carefully pinned the small white flower to Shen Chaomu’s collar.
They stepped out, spotting several orcs in the distance, clad in long sleeves and trousers, accompanied by collection robots filled with various plant specimens. These delicate leaves and flowers, impossible to harvest by machine, fetched a good price in the market.
“Why are they dressed like that?” Long Shiyu asked, curious.
“There are biting insects here,” Shen Chaomu explained. “Insect repellent isn’t very effective, and it’s too much trouble to use spiritual power to ward them off constantly.”
“Oh.” Long Shiyu puffed up his chest. “No insect has ever dared to bite me.”
“Of course not,” Shen Chaomu said dryly. “But you’ve bitten me. Twice.”
Long Shiyu blushed, his tail curling. “I offered to lick your wounds, but you refused!”
Shen Chaomu couldn’t help but recall that moment on the bridge, Long Shiyu’s gentle ministrations, the warmth of his touch. On anyone else, it would have been a blatant seduction. But it was Long Shiyu.
He felt a warmth spread through his chest, a strange fluttering sensation that he quickly dismissed. How had a simple dragon retrieval mission devolved into this?
He grabbed Long Shiyu’s horn and gave it a shake, ignoring the dragon’s indignant squawk.
Fang Qing, eager to gather specimens, was already heading off with Yang Zhiming and his robot assistants.
“Let’s ask those orcs if they’ve seen any Scorching Sun Epiphyllum,” Shen Chaomu suggested.
As they approached, Long Shiyu’s attention was immediately drawn to the orcs’ lunchboxes. While he stared longingly, Shen Chaomu made their inquiries.
The orcs, their tiger ears twitching, conferred amongst themselves, their expressions growing curious.
“Isn’t that one pinned to your collar?” one of them finally asked, pointing at Shen Chaomu.
Shen Chaomu looked down at the flower Long Shiyu had given him. “That’s not it. The Scorching Sun Epiphyllum looks different.”
“It is. You tourists rely too much on your information.” The orc chuckled. “Yours is just underdeveloped. Leave it in the sun for twenty minutes, and it will bloom.”
“Thank you.” Shen Chaomu paused, then added, “Be careful out here. There are mercenaries active in the area, converging on this plain. Report any suspicious activity to the Hunter Association.”
“Got it, got it.”
They returned to the off-road vehicle. “So we can go back now?” Long Shiyu asked.
“Yes,” Shen Chaomu replied. “But how do you always stumble upon these strange things? The Flamingo Lily was the same.”
“I don’t know. I just think they’re special.”
Shen Chaomu chuckled. “Maybe you’re a strange dragon yourself. Birds of a feather flock together, as they say.”
“Okay.” Long Shiyu readily accepted this assessment.
They were about to leave when Yang Zhiming messaged. Fang Qing had found the escaped bird and was now in hot pursuit. They wouldn’t be back anytime soon.
“Why don’t we explore the forest?” Long Shiyu suggested.
“Let me store this flower first.” Shen Chaomu carefully placed the epiphyllum in a specialized container, then messaged Romeo with an update before joining Long Shiyu outside.
“I’ll find you more flowers,” Long Shiyu promised, eager to begin their exploration.
“You’ll probably find something strange instead,” Shen Chaomu predicted.
“No way.” Long Shiyu’s tail swished happily.
They ventured into the forest, heading north. The leaves gradually shifted to shades of red, their vibrancy varying with the seasons. Summer brought a fiery intensity, while winter muted the colors to a velvety richness. Now, in autumn, the hues blended, creating a unique beauty.
Dead Leaf Monkeys reappeared, lurking in the trees, their curiosity tempered by caution. They kept their distance.
Long Shiyu scanned the undergrowth for interesting flowers, but none seemed worthy of his princess.
“Do you know what ‘Akasa Mo’ means in dragon language?” Shen Chaomu asked, remembering their earlier conversation.
Long Shiyu froze, then wrapped his tail around Shen Chaomu’s wrist with a nervous “Ying!”
“Why are you so scared?” Shen Chaomu chuckled. “He’s not going to attack you.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything,” Long Shiyu insisted.
“Really? But it’s your language.”
“I’m not very educated,” Long Shiyu said, feigning innocence.
“You’re lying again.”
Long Shiyu refused to elaborate.
“Well, you must know what your own name means,” Shen Chaomu pressed. “‘Long Shiyu’ doesn’t sound very draconic.”
“I have a dragon name,” Long Shiyu admitted. “The two names have the same meaning. I just translated it into Alliance Standard.”
“What does it mean?”
Long Shiyu squirmed, realizing his princess hadn’t noticed he was being asked the same question. “It means…it means I can only breathe fire, so the ‘rain’* in my name balances it out. Ahhh, don’t shake me!”
*(Yu is rain in chinese)
Shen Chaomu, having grabbed his horn, relented.
“It refers to the rain of light,” Long Shiyu explained.
“What’s the rain of light?”
“Let go of my horn first.”
Shen Chaomu released him.
“Didn’t I tell you I was born from the stars?” Long Shiyu said. “On the day I was born, all the stars rained down.”
“How can stars rain? I’ve never heard of light rain.”
“Well, they did.” Long Shiyu nodded earnestly. “You need an umbrella in that kind of rain, or your clothes will be stained with color.”
He described the scene – a miracle born from the universe, stars melting, showering the world in vibrant colors, each drop a shimmering light.
Shen Chaomu was captivated by the image, the impossible beauty of it. He looked at Long Shiyu, his eyes shining with an otherworldly light.
If there really is a rain of light, he thought, then its brilliance must be contained within this young man’s eyes.
“What does ‘Shi’* mean?” he asked.
*(Shi 拾 is to pick up/gather/collect: I infer his name probably means to collect/gather rain. The Long 龙 just means dragon.)
Long Shiyu’s tail twitched nervously. “I don’t know. I’m an illiterate dragon,” he mumbled.
Shen Chaomu: “…”
They ventured deeper, the gurgling streams and vibrant leaves guiding their path. Red hues dominated the canopy now, casting a warm glow. Dead Leaf Monkeys grew more numerous, their hands clutching cameras, snacks, fruit, and plastic bags.
“We must be near their lair,” Shen Chaomu observed. “They like to bring their stolen goods back here.”
“I like hoarding things too,” Long Shiyu said excitedly. “Like crystals and princesses.”
Shen Chaomu was about to reply when he noticed a syringe clutched in a monkey’s hand. Golden light flakes snatched it away. The startled monkey screeched, its fur flashing back to the color of dead leaves, and fled.
“Arc Bird blood again,” Long Shiyu confirmed after a sniff.
It was the same blood they had found in the mercenary camp. The type of blood refined depended on the raw materials available to the purifier. This explained why the mercenaries often received the same type of blood, like the recent Arc Bird and the mermaid blood in Star City. Mercenaries like Augusta, who exclusively used high-purity, single-species blood, were rare.
Shen Di must have close ties to the Church’s inner circle. Could it be Lilith? Shen Chaomu frowned, considering the possibilities. He wrapped the syringe in a white cloth, intending to submit it for analysis later.
As they progressed, the monkeys’ loot grew more diverse: pots and pans, syringes, even a bullet and a pair of foul-smelling socks. It seemed they had raided another mercenary camp.
“Let’s head in that direction,” Shen Chaomu said, pointing deeper into the forest.
Fifteen minutes later, they found the abandoned camp. The mercenaries’ vehicles were gone, leaving only scorch marks and a tattered tent. Shen Chaomu transmitted the coordinates, and the patrol team confirmed they were on their way.
Long Shiyu paused before a massive tree, its gnarled roots thicker than a man’s torso. It appeared to be a dead end, a wall of roots and stone blocking their path. But he could smell a strange beast.
Shen Chaomu’s spiritual power also detected an anomaly. Golden light flakes sliced through the roots, and the Dead Leaf Monkeys erupted in a chorus of angry shrieks. They leaped through the branches, a few even launching themselves at Shen Chaomu, their attacks easily deflected.
Minimizing damage, Shen Chaomu cleared a path through the roots. A narrow passage, dark and damp, with faint footprints in the muddy floor, was revealed.
They descended, the path leading downward as if toward the earth’s core. Spiritual power parted the tangled roots. After five minutes, a faint light appeared ahead.
A few more steps, and they emerged into a hidden clearing. Crimson leaves blazed overhead, the trees forming a fiery circle. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the canopy, casting a warm glow on the red earth. Young monkeys peered from behind the leaves, their curiosity outweighing their fear.
The path behind them, the ancient tree and the narrow tunnel, gave this place the air of a secret sanctuary. And in the center stood a statue bathed in dappled sunlight.
A knight, his greatsword planted firmly in the ground, stood tall and proud, his face obscured by his helmet, his armor a stark black. Beside him stood a warhorse, also clad in black armor, only a few white hairs visible, its eyes intelligent. Flanking the knight were statues of a young man and woman from the White Deer tribe, their forms lifelike.
A stone tablet bore the inscription, “The Black Knight and the Guarded.”
It should be the name of this statue, inspired by the legend of Tabu thousands of years ago.
Several young monkeys slept peacefully at the statue’s base, startled by their arrival, they scurried behind the knight’s legs. Both Shen Chaomu and Long Shiyu sensed an unnatural aura emanating from the statue.
The area was littered with traces of mercenary spiritual power. Shen Chaomu’s golden light flakes parted the thick layer of leaves, revealing a variety of herbs: buckthorn, white owl flower, golden tail vine… In Cassandra, the mercenaries had used similar materials, guided by their “boss” and their knowledge of dragon alchemy, to awaken Wilpan.
“Shen Di again,” Shen Chaomu muttered. They were too late. What strange beast had been awakened this time?
A sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, sending crimson leaves swirling like a rain of butterflies. And as if in a dream, the black knight statue stirred.
The armor trembled, shedding dust and leaves. With a metallic groan, it began to move. A hand gripped the greatsword, a leg shifted, a knee bent with agonizing slowness. The knight’s fingers twitched, his head and shoulders rotating as if stretching stiff muscles.
The armored warhorse whinnied, tossing its head and stamping its hooves.
The statue had come to life.
Shen Chaomu pulled Long Shiyu behind him, the oil lamp flaring to life. Golden spears materialized, surrounding the knight.
“Ah, cough, cough,” the knight rasped, clearing his throat.
With surprising ease, he lifted the massive greatsword and hoisted it onto his shoulder. The metal clanged against his armor, and his voice boomed through the clearing. “Welcome, visitors! Harassed by the monkeys, were you? Hahaha!” He erupted in a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry, don’t be ashamed! Welcome to Tabu!”
Young monkeys clung to his armor, their fear forgotten. The knight’s laughter deepened.
“But my friends,” he said, his voice still booming, “could you tell me the time?”
Shen Chaomu, his golden spears poised to strike, glanced at his terminal. “Four in the afternoon,” he replied.
“Four o’clock already?” The knight’s tone shifted, his movements stiff and deliberate. “I’m afraid I can’t stay to chat. It’s time for afternoon tea. Have you seen the children? They’ve wandered off somewhere in the forest.”
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