The night was as dark as ink, thickly dyeing the sky, with only the Xianzhou drifting silently through the sea of clouds like a moving star.
Inside the vessel, the glow of the Night-Luminescent Pearl bathed everything in a gentle, hazy light, softening the world into something ambiguous and private.
A faint, calming sandalwood fragrance filled the air, mingling with the unique dragon scent from Qin Qingyue, swirling at the tip of the nose, stirring a sense of lazy comfort.
Jiang Huai lay bare-chested, sprawled on the soft bedding.
At his tailbone, the newly formed Red Dragon Mark shimmered with a heated luster under the pearl’s glow, reflecting against the icy White Dragon Mark a little further down.
Qin Qingyue wore only a thin, dark nightgown, loosely tied, exposing a wide expanse of snowy, delicate skin and her exquisitely shaped collarbone.
Her black hair spilled like a waterfall beside the pillow, with a few mischievous strands falling across Jiang Huai’s back.
She stretched out a slender, jade-like finger, a hint of playfulness and a subtle possessiveness in her eyes, and gently poked the fresh, still-warm Red Dragon Mark.
Jiang Huai’s body tensed for an instant, brows furrowing slightly, then he twisted his arm back and precisely slapped away her meddlesome finger, his movement carrying a clear note of resistance.
Obviously, he was still burning with embarrassment over being pressed to her leg for the marking in the Red Dragon Clan earlier that day.
Especially when he lost control afterward…
“You love me, don’t you?” Qin Qingyue’s voice was soft, almost bewitching, ringing clearer than ever in the tranquil night.
Jiang Huai buried his face in the pillow, giving a muffled grunt.
After a moment, he said, “I love you.” His voice was a little unclear, but more than audible.
He stayed lying down, eyes narrowed, as if drowsy, or simply unwilling to argue with her.
“Since you love me then,” Qin Qingyue’s lips curved in a triumphant smile.
She returned her hand—now radiating warmth from her own skin—to Jiang Huai’s Red Dragon Mark, this time gently rubbing it, feeling the heat rise from the skin beneath.
“You’ll surely satisfy my requests, won’t you?”
“No.” Jiang Huai replied crisply, raising his hand and slapping her hand away with a sharper “pa” this time.
“You will,” Qin Qingyue insisted, utterly certain.
She propped herself up, her nightgown slipping down to reveal a rounded shoulder, her gaze blazing as she stared at the three marks on his back and hips.
“You have three marks now, don’t you?”
Her fingertip traced, almost touching, the three Dragon Marks.
“Let me see your Dragon Transformation.”
Her voice was open in its anticipation, her beautiful eyes shining in the dimness.
Jiang Huai frowned slightly and turned his head, catching the overflowing curiosity and desire in her gaze—it was just like a child spotting a new toy.
He hesitated for a moment before saying quietly:
“As you wish.”
At his mental command, all three marks glowed at once, each with a faint but pure light.
A deep black, a blazing red, a cool white.
As the light flowed, glossy scales spread rapidly from each mark, crawling across his back, waist, arms, and legs like living things.
Black Dragon Scales were as dark as the abyss, Red Dragon Scales burned like molten lava, and White Dragon Scales gleamed as pristine as first snow.
The three colors wove together into a magnificent and powerful totem across his body.
A small, but sturdy and powerful Little Dragon Tail, covered in tri-colored scales, stretched from his tailbone and awkwardly swept across the bedding.
It felt odd, as if he’d grown another hand.
At the same time, two elegantly curved Dragon Horns, also blending the three colors, sprouted on each side of his forehead.
At a glance, except for his handsome face, he looked no different from a pure-blooded member of the Dragon Race—strange yet captivating in beauty.
“Beautiful.” Qin Qingyue breathed in genuine admiration, her eyes shimmering with infatuation.
She couldn’t resist reaching out, her fingers cool as she softly brushed over the icy White Dragon Scales on his back, then moved to the warm Red Dragon Scales, finally resting on the dark Black Dragon Scales at his waist.
Her touch was reverent, almost feverish with possessiveness, especially when her finger slid—seemingly by accident—across the spot where tail met body.
Jiang Huai shuddered, his scales seeming to bristle, and a suppressed groan escaped his throat.
“Don’t touch.” His voice was hoarse, edged with strain.
“You’re mine, why shouldn’t I touch you?”
Qin Qingyue grew even more excited, even tugging curiously at the Little Dragon Tail, feeling its resilient strength and a surge of wordless satisfaction in her heart.
“Wonderful. You can even look like a dragon now.”
It was as if this made her feel their connection was even deeper—he belonged more completely to her world.
“I’m not yours. Stop touching me.” Jiang Huai snapped, twisting away and hiding his tail from her reach.
Today in the Red Dragon Clan was already utterly humiliating!
Right in front of Chi Hong…
Every time he thought of it, his face burned.
And Qin Qingyue’s proud, look-what-I-have expression left him helplessly exasperated.
“You’re talking nonsense again.”
Qin Qingyue was amused by his childish action, scooting closer so her warm breath tickled his ear.
“Can’t you just indulge me?” she began to plead, voice soft.
“No.” Jiang Huai’s back stayed to her, his tone resolute.
“Just transform, come on.” Qin Qingyue refused to give up, twirling a strand of his hair between her fingers, her voice coaxing.
“Since you can become a dragon, you must be able to become a Little Dragon too, right?”
By “Little Dragon,” she clearly meant the young dragon form.
“I’ve never even seen a male cultivator’s Little Dragon. Show me, will you?” she continued, blinking her Dragon Eyes in a pitiful, innocent act.
“If you became smaller, you’d be so cute—you could probably even trick that old woman Chi Hong!” she teased, her words laced with mischief.
As a Dragon Race member, she knew too well how rare this form was.
If Jiang Huai could transform into such a shape, for certain Dragon Race women with special “protective” desires, the allure would be deadly.
The Dragon Race had no male hatchlings, let alone ones that could take human form.
Refine! Refine him thoroughly! The little abacus in her mind was clicking away at full speed.
Jiang Huai slapped her hand away again, his tone sharper with absolute refusal:
“I’m telling you, I won’t indulge your peculiar hobby.” He paused, almost gritting his teeth.
“I can’t become smaller, got it?”
He felt it his duty to defend his dignity and put a stop to these bizarre Dragon Race customs—he had to start with himself!
At that, Qin Qingyue grew anxious.
She sat up abruptly, her nightgown sliding completely off her shoulders, exposing her heaving chest as she spoke in frustration:
“How can you be like this, how can you!” she repeated, as if unable to accept his rejection.
“Hurry up and get smaller—just a little!” She even pushed at his shoulder, half-acting spoiled.
“Though that part doesn’t need to shrink, just your body’s enough.” That part still needed to be useful.
Instead, Jiang Huai was amused by her reaction. He slowly turned around, leaning against the headboard, the tri-colored scales glimmering under the light, his Dragon Horns standing out even more.
The corners of his mouth quirked up teasingly: “You can try pressing me down on your leg again.”
He was referring to her usual method of overpowering him.
Qin Qingyue choked, knowing he meant her vastly superior cultivation—she had, indeed, done so many times before.
But now, looking at his laughing eyes and those dazzling Dragon Scales, she found herself reluctant to actually use force, feeling more stifled and disappointed by his refusal than anything else.
“Fine, don’t change!” she huffed, then suddenly wrapped herself up in the blanket, turning her back to him in a decisive sulk.
A black, scale-covered dragon tail poked out from the bundle, thumping the bed restlessly, each muffled “pa” showing her extreme agitation.
Jiang Huai knew her too well.
The way that tail lashed, he could tell her mind was still fixed on seeing him as a Little Dragon.
He wasn’t in any hurry, just quietly leaning against the headboard, his eyes on her turned back.
The thin nightgown traced her slender yet powerful waistline, her shoulder blades clearly outlined.
Atop her head, the pair of delicate black Dragon Horns glimmered under the pearl light.
He silently counted down. Five, four, three…
Sure enough, before he reached “one,” Qin Qingyue couldn’t hold back.
She shifted, showing just half her face and a single, unwilling Dragon Eye, muttering:
“Can’t I just take a look? Just once—let me see what a male Little Dragon is like?” She settled for a “just looking” compromise.
“No.” Jiang Huai propped his face on his hand, his smile growing, deliberately teasing her.
He found her scratching, desperate look far cuter than her usual lofty Palace Master demeanor.
“Fine! I’ve truly been blind to trust you!” Qin Qingyue was completely provoked.
She kicked out, sending most of the blanket flying, and her black dragon tail, brimming with fury, smashed down hard.
“Boom!”
With a muffled bang, the massive, steady Xianzhou actually rocked sharply, everything inside the cabin knocking together with a clatter.
The commotion startled Su Yingman and Tang Zhaoxue in the neighboring cabin, making them glance at each other in confusion—wondering what kind of “intense sparring” the Palace Master and her husband were up to now.
Jiang Huai watched her throw her tantrum, both exasperated and amused.
Deciding to tease her more, he adopted a casual tone and joked, “Hmm, maybe I’ll show Wu Zhaohua instead—she probably doesn’t have your kind of… quirks.”
No sooner had he finished than he realized his mistake.
In an instant, the air in the sleeping chamber seemed to freeze.
Even the slow-burning sandalwood seemed to stop wafting.
A formless, suffocating pressure emanated from Qin Qingyue, rapidly filling the room.
Silence. Dead silence. Only their gradually louder breaths could be heard.
Jiang Huai felt his scalp prickle. He forced a laugh, trying to fix things:
“Haha, I was kidding, Qingyue, don’t take it seriously.” A sharp, almost tangible red light flashed inside the bed curtains.
The source was Qin Qingyue, who’d turned her head just slightly.
Her once-deep Dragon Eyes were now full dragon pupils, blood-red and swirling with a frightening storm and icy anger, locked on Jiang Huai’s face.
“What did you say?” Her voice was very soft.
Jiang Huai’s heart thumped—he knew he’d gone too far.
He quickly put on his most flattering smile, reaching out to embrace her waist:
“I was joking, really, just teasing you, my wife…” “Heh.”
A cold, humorless laugh escaped Qin Qingyue’s throat, cutting him off.
She turned around slowly, with an oppressive aura.
Her black hair danced behind her, shadowing most of her face—only her blood-red Dragon Eyes burned in the darkness.
“Tell me the truth, Jiang Huai.” Her voice was terrifyingly calm.
He was frozen in her presence, Adam’s apple bobbing, and instinctively responded, “Mm?”
“I’ve actually—” Qin Qingyue slowly raised her hand, already covered with fine black Dragon Scales. Her fingertips had sharpened into a half-transformed Dragon Claw.
“—long since had enough of you acting this way.” Her tone was full of pent-up dissatisfaction and an overwhelming need to control.
“What are you doing?!” Jiang Huai sensed danger, tried to retreat, but it was too late.
Qin Qingyue pounced with lightning speed.
Her Dragon Claw grabbed Jiang Huai’s ankle, yanking his legs apart, while her other hand pressed down hard on his shoulder.
Using her absolute strength, she easily pinned him face-down on the bed.
“I’ll show you what it means to be a good husband—how to call me Master Mother properly!” Her voice rang above him, commanding and tinged with excitement.
Jiang Huai struggled, his tri-colored Dragon Scales flashing, his tail thrashing, but against Qin Qingyue’s might, it was like a mayfly shaking a tree.
She pinned his lower back with her knee and forced his head into the pillow with her Dragon Claw, leaving him barely able to breathe, much less speak.
Then, Jiang Huai suddenly felt something tighten around his neck—an icy, flexible sensation pressing against his skin.
Something leather-like, fastened with a hard metal clasp, snapped into place with a crisp click, fitting snugly around his neck, trapping him securely.
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