NOVPUBThe dragon's obsidian eyes lingered on Shan Yifeng, his expression uncharacteristically gentle.
"As for you…" he said, "your seal is a different story. Crimson Dragon blood flows faintly through your veins. You'll need to find one of their kind to fully awaken it. But for now—" he gave a slow, approving nod "—I can unseal part of it. Help you control it. Even guide its fusion with your own bloodline. That much, I can offer."
Shan Yifeng turned to the white fox instinctively, seeking confirmation.
White Fur met his gaze and gave a rare, sincere smile.
"He's speaking the truth, young man. Dragons have been called many things, arrogant, prideful, ancient, divine, but liar has never been one of them. You can trust him."
Shan Yifeng took a deep breath, then nodded. "Alright. Can you unseal it now?"
The dragon's smile deepened, a flash of mirth glinting in his dark eyes.
"Of course. I watched you both climb those stairs earlier, I'm not foolish enough to send you to your death right after knowing that."
White Fur gently unfurled her tails and wrapped them around Shan Yifeng, cradling him protectively before lowering him next to the towering black dragon, Midas Touch.
Midas descended, graceful and regal, then extended a single hand and touched Shan Yifeng lightly on the forehead. 𝚗𝚘v𝚙𝚞b.𝚌𝚘m
A warmth spread instantly. Shan Yifeng's eyes glazed over as he slipped into a trance.
"Don't resist it, boy," the dragon's voice echoed in his mind. "Let the energy settle within. Let it find you."
And then, as if the heavens themselves whispered blessings into the air, the world changed.
The ground beneath Shan Yifeng pulsed with life.
Tiny shoots burst through the soil, growing rapidly, vines twisting, weaving upward around him like a living cocoon.
From those vines, flowers began to bloom in delicate succession:
Roses unfurled, deep crimson and full of quiet power.
Daffodils opened in bright, golden pride.
Jasmines released their soothing scent like whispers on the air.
And then—impossibly—lotuses appeared, shimmering faintly with a soft, ethereal glow.
A hush fell over the mountaintop while the wind held its breath.
Even Liu Mei, who had been bouncing in place in excitement, froze, eyes wide with awe.
The dragon murmured, almost to himself, "A harmony of spirit and blood. Rare. Very rare…"
Shan Yifeng stood motionless, surrounded by a garden that should not exist.
Meanwhile Midas quietly sat down upon a nearby stone, his gaze settling on White Fur.
"Care for a little chat?" he asked, his tone surprisingly casual.
White Fur turned her head to Liu Mei, seeking silent permission.
Though clearly puzzled by what was happening, Liu Mei gave a vigorous nod.
"Go get him, White Fur! And if he tries anything weird, you have my permission to kick his scaly butt!" she added, grinning and raising her fists like little paws.
White Fur chuckled softly at the absurdity of it, then exhaled deeply.
In the next moment, her form shimmered—white light wrapping around her like silken threads in the wind.
Where the majestic fox had once stood, now stood a woman of breathtaking grace.
Her hair was long and silver-white, cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight.
Her eyes held the calm of ancient forests—soft, thoughtful, and deep beyond measure.
A faint silver glow shimmered at her fingertips, and a robe of flowing white silk hugged her form, embroidered with patterns of wind and leaves that shifted gently as if alive.
She was beauty not of flesh, but of presence—a serene majesty that made even the sky seem to still in reverence.
Liu Mei's jaw dropped. Her eyes widened like saucers as she stared, momentarily robbed of all thought.
So stunning—so otherworldly—that her voice squeaked in her head like a tiny bell:
I can't let Master see her. I definitely won't. Nope. Not happening.
The panic set in instantly, as if her position as "most beautiful person Master knows" was under immediate and devastating threat.
Meanwhile, Midas gave a low whistle, clearly impressed.
"You've aged well, Fox. I remember when you were not even old enough to speak."
White Fur sat beside him, her smile tinged with ancient memories.
"And I remember when you had two heads and couldn't decide which one to breathe fire from."
Midas chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Touché."
"What is it you wish to speak about?" White Fur asked, her voice calm and graceful.
Midas didn't answer right away. His black eyes flicked to Liu Mei, still watching the garden of flowers surrounding Shan Yifeng.
Then, with a wave of his hand, a translucent barrier shimmered into existence, silencing the world beyond them.
He turned back, his voice low, almost hesitant. "Is it alright… if I become one of her soul bonds?"
White Fur raised a brow, amused. "Oh? And here I thought you said earlier that she was too weak to tame someone like you?"
Midas cleared his throat and looked away. "That... was different. This and that—completely different things."
White Fur gave a small laugh. "She won't mind. She already likes you. You'll be fine."
Midas exhaled in relief. "Alright then… She has the Myriad Beast Physique. Anyone else know yet?"
White Fur shook her head gently. "Not yet. Perhaps her master."
"…Her master?" Midas frowned.
"Yes," White Fur replied calmly. "Both those children are being trained by someone. Their master is… rather capable."
The dragon paused, visibly unsettled. "So… I'm going to have a grandmaster above me?" He folded his arms, muttering, "Not sure how I feel about that…"
White Fur's lips curled, amusement flickering in her eyes. "No one's forcing you."
Midas looked off to the side, clearly mulling it over. Then, with a huff, he muttered, "Still… I have a reputation to uphold. Unlike you. I mean, aside from you your whole race is extinct, so—oops."
The moment the words left his mouth, he froze.
A silence colder than frost wrapped around them.
When he dared look up, White Fur hadn't moved, but something was clearly different now.
Her smile was still there, soft and polite… but now, it also dripped with quiet malice.
Her eyes—once serene—now shimmered like ice under moonlight, sharp enough to cut.
The very air seemed to still. The gentle wind around them died. A phantom pressure crept in like the slow breath of a predator.
Midas, one of the last of the great dragons, felt it down to his bones.
That smile.
That wasn't a smile of grace!
It was a farewell....
The dragon swallowed slowly, every instinct in his ancient body screaming the same word.
Run.
