“I didn’t mean anything else.” Wu Zhaohua lowered her gaze, her long lashes casting a faint shadow beneath her eyes.
Her tone was calm and indifferent, as if this really was nothing more than an ordinary invitation.
“Are you saying that between the two of us, even visiting each other’s place is not allowed?”
This was a thorough lie. In truth, her mind was swirling with countless thoughts, but after all she had experienced, she had grown wiser, knowing better than to reveal too much of what she truly felt.
Qin Qingyue stared at Wu Zhaohua, her scarlet dragon eyes nearly spitting fire.
Her black dragon tail thumped anxiously against the ground, the hard scales scraping violently against the smooth floor, sending out waves of piercing, unpleasant sounds that echoed at the rather empty entrance to the secret land, clearly on purpose.
A sense of unprecedented crisis surged up from the depths of her heart, so intense that her chest tightened.
Countless thoughts raced chaotically through her mind:
Flowers? What flowers? In these Four Seas and Eight Wilds, what strange flowers and rare herbs are there that her Dragon Palace does not already possess?
Missing Jiang Huai? What kind of clumsy excuse is that? What exactly is she thinking?!
What made Qin Qingyue’s heart sink and filled her with astonishment was that after a brief pause, Jiang Huai by her side did not reject the invitation as she expected, but instead, a trace of hesitation flashed across his face, and then he nodded lightly:
“Alright.”
“Hmph! Let’s go!” she nearly spat the words through gritted teeth, refusing to look at Wu Zhaohua’s seemingly calm, unruffled face—which in her eyes was nothing but a show of calculated patience—grabbing Jiang Zhun’s wrist and, without giving him any chance to refuse, half-dragged, half-pulled him away with quick steps, not once looking back as they left the Red Dragon Secret Land.
The force and speed of her stride exposed the raging firestorm in her heart.
As soon as they turned the corner, out of everyone’s sight and into a quiet corridor, Qin Qingyue’s agile, powerful dragon tail—covered in glossy black scales—suddenly shot up, winding around Jiang Huai’s waist like an unyielding black rope, and yanked him fiercely toward her.
“Ugh!” Jiang Huai hadn’t expected such a move at all; caught off guard, he stumbled into her warm, soft embrace, his nose instantly filled with her unique fragrance.
“Speak! Tell me clearly! Why did you agree to go with her?!” Qin Qingyue raised her bright, proud face, her beautiful eyes sharp with anger and killing intent, glaring at Jiang Huai who was now right in front of her.
Her soft, supple figure pressed tightly against Jiang Huai, and through their thin clothes, the heat and shape of her body came through with overwhelming force.
“Last time she invited you, didn’t you refuse no matter what? Why did you agree so easily this time?! Give me a reasonable explanation!”
Jiang Huai was bound by both her dragon tail and her arms, so tight that his breathing grew unsteady. He tried to reason with her:
“I really just wanted to see the flowers she mentioned, and her courtyard. Besides, I promised her before that I would finish a few books for her, so this is a chance to settle that old promise.”
“What?! You even have to write things for her?!” Qin Qingyue seemed to explode like a firecracker with a lit fuse, her voice shooting up in pitch, filled with disbelief, fury, and a barely noticeable tinge of grievance.
“You! Have you ever once thought of writing something for me?! Hmm?!”
“You never asked me for anything.”
Jiang Huai felt utterly wronged, still trying to reason with her.
“So if I don’t ask, you won’t do anything?!” Qin Qingyue cut him off, her dragon tail tightening even more around his waist, making Jiang Huai frown slightly from the pressure.
“I’m telling you! She is not allowed to touch you! Not a single finger! And absolutely not…not allowed for you to…Did you hear me?!”
Whenever it came to Wu Zhaohua, her possessiveness instantly flared up, leaving nothing concealed.
“I promise, I really am just going to make up the draft I owe her, look at some flowers and the courtyard, and then I’ll come right back.” Jiang Huai gave his assurance again, his eyes clear.
“Really?” Qin Qingyue locked her eyes on his, her scarlet dragon pupils sharp as blades, as if trying to catch any trace of a lie.
“Absolutely true.” Jiang Huai answered without hesitation.
“Hmph, that’s more like it.” Hearing his resolute answer, the tension around Qin Qingyue eased just a bit, and the pressure of the dragon tail relaxed, though it still refused to let go.
Suddenly, as if she remembered something important, her tone grew proud, unable to conceal her secret satisfaction:
“At least you know your place.”
“It’s not for nothing that I’ve been thinking about giving you a one-of-a-kind gift these days.”
“A gift? What gift?” Jiang Huai’s curiosity was piqued.
Qin Qingyue, however, now deliberately kept it a secret, her rosy lips curving up into a sly arc:
“What’s the rush? You’ll find out when we get back.”
The two bickered and pulled at each other, their mood oddly softened, as they made their way back to the grand and splendid main palace of the Red Dragon Clan.
At this moment, the Ancestor of the Red Dragon, who had looked exhausted from the earlier turmoil, seemed to have been nursed back by Chilong Hall Master Chi Hong with some secret clan spell, appearing noticeably more spirited.
Although still weak, she could now curl around Chi Hong’s slender wrist, eyes half-closed in lazy repose.
As for Wu Zhaohua, who had issued the invitation, she was nowhere to be seen—clearly, she’d already left.
Qin Qingyue’s bright eyes flickered, and she immediately set her sights on Chi Hong, who was carefully supporting the ancestor.
She strode over, pulling Jiang Huai along, and spoke with complete confidence, getting straight to the point:
“Chilong Hall Master, if I’m not mistaken, you personally promised that for the mishap in your Red Dragon Secret Land, you’d give us proper compensation, correct?”
Jiang Huai, standing beside her, looked genuinely puzzled:
“Compensation? What compensation? When was that said?”
Chi Hong heard Qin Qingyue and paused for a moment.
Then she elegantly tucked a stray strand of her bright red hair behind her ear, her charming, mature face revealing an expression of resignation—as if she knew there was no avoiding this—before nodding decisively:
“Yes, Palace Master Qin is correct. Chi Hong did indeed make that promise.”
“This incident put Young Master Jiang in danger, so all losses should be borne by our Red Dragon Clan.”
Even if Qin Qingyue hadn’t brought it up, she’d already prepared a generous gift to express her apology and gratitude—after all, Jiang Huai had risked himself to bring back their ancient ancestor safe and sound.
The safe return of an ancient ancestor was something beyond ordinary value.
“Very well! Since the Hall Master is so righteous, then I won’t be polite!” Qin Qingyue grinned, satisfaction and slyness glimmering on her lips, and stated her demand plainly:
“I don’t want any ordinary trinkets. I want your heart’s blood, to inscribe on him a unique Red Dragon Mark of your clan.”
“Hmm?” Chi Hong was momentarily stunned, clearly not having expected such an unusual request.
“Red Dragon Mark?”
Qin Qingyue couldn’t be bothered to explain further. She reached out and signaled for Jiang Huai to lift his clothes at his waist.
Though embarrassed, Jiang Huai obeyed under her insistent gaze, revealing a tight abdomen where a winding, fierce Black Dragon Mark shone with a faint black light, brimming with domineering power.
“Just like this one—the pattern can be different, but it must contain your own true power as a Red Dragon Mark,” she pointed at her earlier “masterpiece.”
Upon seeing the Black Dragon Mark, infused with Qin Qingyue’s pure power, Chi Hong’s beautiful face took on a troubled look.
“This…” she hesitated. Dragon heart blood was incredibly precious, each drop containing vast power and the imprint of their bloodline—vital to any dragon.
As the clan leader, how could she give it so easily? Especially to be “marked” on someone else?
Chi Hong instinctively glanced down at the ancestor curled on her wrist—though still a bit weak, those ancient eyes held a trace of anticipation.
Then she looked at the stubbornly expectant Qin Qingyue, weighing her options.
In the end, she bit her full lip and relented: “Alright.”
“Since Palace Master Qin asks, and it’s to thank Young Master Jiang for saving our ancestor, I’ll give it.”
Inside Chi Hong’s private chamber, the atmosphere was somewhat delicate.
Countless gentle red crystals set into the walls glowed with warm, soft light, bathing the compact room in a hazy, ambiguous glow.
“I wonder, Palace Master Qin, where exactly do you wish the Red Dragon Mark to be placed on Young Master Jiang’s body?” Chi Hong suppressed the awkwardness of leaving such an intimate mark on a man, keeping her composure as clan leader as she asked calmly.
Yet her gaze inadvertently swept across Jiang Huai’s taut, smooth lower back.
Qin Qingyue sat grandly on a wide chair draped with some unknown, soft beast fur.
Without much thought, she reached out and unceremoniously tugged Jiang Huai’s clothes further up, indicating a spot just below the lower back, beside the tailbone:
“Right here, next to the White Dragon Mark.”
“You! Qin Qingyue! You…” Jiang Huai flushed red, embarrassment and protest rising up at once.
But before he could say a word, Qin Qingyue silenced him with a sharp, threatening glare.
“What do you know?! The placement is critical—it’s all about the flow of fortune and dragon power.”
Qin Qingyue lifted her chin, entirely self-assured.
She then leaned in, whispering fiercely into Jiang Huai’s ear so only he could hear, her possessiveness clear as day:
“Besides, from head to toe, every strand of your hair belongs to me.”
“Where the mark goes is up to me to decide. All you have to do is be good and do as I say.”
Chi Hong followed Qin Qingyue’s gesture, her eyes landing on Jiang Huai’s lower back, right beside the delicate, icy-blue White Dragon Mark.
Her pupils constricted.
Black Dragon Mark, White Dragon Mark…and now a Red Dragon Mark? Judging by things, even that unique Sect Master might…
This boy’s body really is a gathering place for all the storms.
But as her gaze swept over the intricate, cold White Dragon Mark left by White Dew, seeing its beauty and purity stirred up her own competitiveness as the Red Dragon Clan’s leader, a touch of pride not willing to be outdone.
She straightened her elaborate gown, a knowing, challenging smile appearing on her mature, charming face.
With swaying, elegant steps, her curvy hips moving naturally, she approached Jiang Huai’s side.
“Very well…” she drawled, a hint of lazy allure in her voice.
“Since Palace Master Qin has chosen, Chi Hong will inscribe the mark right there.”
She reached out a slender, jade-like finger, its tip glowing with heated dragon power, and lightly touched the sensitive skin at the center of Jiang Huai’s lower back.
The moment her finger touched down—before she even began—an intense, pure Red Dragon aura poured into Jiang Huai’s skin, impossible to resist.
“Mm…” Jiang Huai’s body shuddered involuntarily, a tightly suppressed groan escaping his throat.
The marked area was right next to the White Dragon Mark, and now the opposing powers—extreme heat and cold—clashed and mingled at this narrow border.
At once, a strange, violent energy reaction erupted, like ice water poured into boiling oil.
Chi Hong grew solemn, focusing all her will on her fingertip.
She drew forth the purest Red Dragon power, extracting from her heart three drops of deep red blood, sparkling like the finest rubies, as if molten magma flowed within—brimming with vast vitality and searing force.
The drops hovered at her fingertip, not quite liquid but rather like three condensed, dancing flames, radiating palpable energy.
With her dragon-powered finger as brush, and her heart’s blood as ink, she began to draw intricate lines on Jiang Huai’s taut skin.
Every stroke sent burning pain through Jiang Huai, as if seared by a branding iron.
Yet within the pain, the immense vitality and the unique bloodline mark of the Red Dragon also seeped into him, tingling all the way to his soul.
The burning dragon power in her blood fought with Jiang Huai’s own yin-yang qi and the lingering cold of the White Dragon Mark, their clash igniting wild, endless turmoil in that small space.
The extreme contrast of ice and fire tormented Jiang Huai, testing his endurance to the limit.
He clenched his teeth, sweat beading on his brow and trickling down his temples.
He could feel, with piercing clarity, Chi Hong’s burning finger moving across his most sensitive skin, pressing and tracing elaborate lines.
This harrowing, dual torment of ice and fire surged through him again and again, mercilessly battering his nerves and resolve.
Chi Hong focused deeply as she completed the final, most complex piece: the core Red Dragon scale representing the heart of the flame.
She could feel Jiang Huai trembling violently, his muscles tight as steel, his blood boiling like lava beneath her touch—a testament to the sheer shock he was enduring.
Understanding all this, the corner of Chi Hong’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
As she finished the last stroke—at the precise instant the Red Dragon Mark formed and drew in the power of heaven and earth—
Jiang Huai’s body convulsed sharply, his willpower shattered by the agonizing, soul-deep clash of ice and fire.
Unable to hold back, he let out a long, muffled groan, fraught with pain and a hint of inexpressible release.
Chi Hong’s motion faltered for an instant at the sudden surge of energy.
On the back of her hand, something faintly…
Chi Hong lifted her gaze, a hint of mischief in her eyes as she looked at Jiang Huai—his face was flushed, eyes glazed and unfocused from the onslaught, breath ragged.
She then turned to Qin Qingyue, who was frowning slightly, and teased with a sly smile:
“Palace Master Qin, it seems your husband isn’t holding up very well.”