Chapter 3: Goodbye

The corrosive mist carried a defiling power. 

Whether it was humans or other races, prolonged exposure would lead to unpredictable mutations-let alone absorbing it into one’s body.

Yet before them, a crimson dragon coiled atop the tree canopy, its head raised as it inhaled and exhaled the gray mist. 

Even as backlash wracked its body, scales splitting and blood pouring, it did not pause for a moment. 

The more of the corrosive mist it absorbed, the more densely its wounds spread. 

Golden-red dragon blood rained down, only to evaporate, forming a faint crimson mist that gradually spread outward from the giant tree.

The thick scent of blood flooded Mu Congyun’s nostrils, stirring a surge of violent energy in his chest. 

He quickly sat cross-legged, steadying his breath and mind to resist.

Meanwhile, Shen Qi was nearing his limit in containing the corrosive mist.

But this was still far from enough.

His claws dug deeper into the tree trunk, his serpentine body coiling tighter, squeezing the mutated Divine Prayer Tree and forcing it to continuously summon more of the surrounding mist to resist.

This Divine Prayer Tree had grown here for at least two hundred years. 

Though it had not yet awakened a spirit, it possessed an instinct for survival.

The fear of death compelled it to fight back with all its might.

The tree canopy rustled as more gray mist gathered toward the center. 

The surrounding twisted trees mutated further-humanoid figures bulging from their trunks wailed, and their branches stretched like vines, weaving into a massive cocoon that sought to entrap and suffocate Shen Qi.

The excruciating pain did not deter him. Instead, it ignited his ferocity.

The crimson dragon lifted its long neck, releasing a deep, resonant cry. Within its golden vertical pupils, a faint red glow flickered.

Compared to the century of hopeless struggle in the swamps beneath the No Return Cliff in his past life, this pain was nothing.

Shen Qi swung his tail, his serpentine body arching as he forcibly shattered the layered cocoon with brute strength. 

The broken branches scattered, instantly withering into decayed remnants.

But the movement further split the web-like wounds across his body. 

Golden-red blood poured like rain, revealing glimpses of terrifying flesh and bone beneath his upturned scales. 

Wisps of gray mist seeped out unceasingly-these were remnants of the corrosive mist that could not be refined, violently tearing through his body from within.

Shen Qi turned his head to lick at a wound, his eyes flashing with disgust at the sight of his mottled, ugly form.

This body was still too weak.

The Zhongshan Candle Dragons were descendants of the ancient dragon god Zhulong. 

Upon hatching, their kind possessed strength equivalent to the early stage of the Forgotten Dust Realm, their scales nearly impervious. Yet he was the sole anomaly among them.

A “Heaven-Deficient Dragon,” born without a heart-protecting scale-a rarity seen once in a millennium, yet it had befallen him. 

Frail body, short lifespan, difficulty in cultivation… Shackled by these limitations, his existence had been worse than that of a dog in Zhongshan.

Memories of his past life flickered through his mind like a revolving lantern. 

The red glow in his eyes intensified as he opened his maw wide, forcibly drawing all the corrosive mist in the forest into his body.

The defiling power was violent and untamable, but in his previous life, to seize even a sliver of hope, he had endured a century in the fetid swamps and in the end, he had mastered the method of refining it.

Enduring pain ten times worse than having his tendons pulled and marrow scraped, Shen Qi circulated his cultivation technique to guide the corrosive mist through his body. 

The filthy energy that others wouldn’t dare touch gradually became tamed after repeated circulations.

The remaining mist that couldn’t be transformed washed through his meridians and flesh, seeping out from between his scales. 

After several rounds of this torment, there wasn’t a single intact spot left on his body.

Yet feeling the vast, violent “filthy essence” filling his body, Shen Qi narrowed his eyes and sighed with near pleasure. 

He reveled in this sensation of mastering power, even at such a terrible cost.

Ever since inexplicably returning to this extremely weak juvenile dragon stage, he hadn’t felt this exhilarated in a long time. 

Relaxing, he stretched his body and slowly gathered the energy dispersing around him.

The sacred prayer tree he’d been using as support beneath his claws had been drenched dragon-blood red, its bark pitted and corroded. 

The once lush canopy now clung to life with only a few stubborn branches. 

Withered leaves and branches formed a three-foot-thick carpet on the ground.

The prayer tree seemed to have given up resistance, its branches drooping lifelessly. 

Scanning the ugly reddish-brown bark, Shen Qi frowned in distaste: “How hideous.”

Looking down at his own bloodstained body, his briefly improved mood darkened again. 

A minor cleansing spell only removed surface bloodstains. 

Staring at his increasingly unsightly form, his tail thrashed irritably against the trunk.

He needed to bathe immediately, change clothes, and repair his fallen scales.

*

Most of the forest’s corrosive mist had been absorbed, no longer blotting out the sky. 

When the gray fog above dispersed, Mu Congyun realized night had fallen.

He’d been here at least half an hour.

 The dragon, completely absorbed in consuming the mist, hadn’t noticed his presence. 

Watching the suddenly motionless creature, Mu pondered its origins.

Western Frontier Chronicles recorded that before the “Great Corrosion Disaster,” this land housed various ancient races alongside humans, with dragons being the most powerful. 

But after the disaster, these mighty beings declined like human cultivators, leaving only legends behind.

Only races with distant ancestral ties to these ancient species survived-small in number and generally weak, collectively called “yao” (demonic beings). 

As for true dragons, none had been seen for ages.

Yet rumors persisted among major sects that the Candle Dragon clan still lived in seclusion somewhere called “Beyond Heaven” in the Western Frontier, emerging only when major events triggered the “Decree of Ten Directions.” 

But despite numerous disturbances to the Ten Directions Barrier over centuries, the decree had never been issued, leaving Mu no way to verify the tales.

Notably, none of the dragon legends mentioned an ability to absorb corrosive mist. 

If today’s events became known, it would cause an uproar. 

Westerners had lived within the Ten Directions Barrier for a millennium, attempting countless methods without even penetrating the Corrosion Sea.

Even the renegade Fengdu faction, who’d defected from Western methods, merely copied the barrier’s formation diagrams to survive outside it.

But this dragon clan, after absorbing vast amounts of miasma, not only showed no signs of mutation but also retained its consciousness.

Mu Congyun was acutely aware of the significance of this discovery and became even more cautious in concealing his presence, waiting for the other to leave first.

He didn’t dare to look any longer, fearing his gaze might be detected.

Shen Qi, extremely agitated, lashed his dragon tail, pondering the nearest place to go.

There was an inn in Nanhuai Town, but it was small and filthy-utterly unbearable for a dragon.

He would have to make a trip to Dongzhou City instead.

Just as he was about to revert to human form and leave, he suddenly caught an unusual scent amidst the blood—a crisp, herbal fragrance that stood out starkly against the forest’s aura.

The ferocious dragon head snapped around, golden pupils narrowing as a furious voice boomed, “Who dares spy on me?!”

The moment Shen Qi turned, Mu Congyun sensed the danger and, without hesitation, transformed into a streak of sword light, fleeing into the distance.

At the same time, the spot where he had hidden was obliterated by a sweeping dragon tail, reducing all vegetation to dust.

The deafening crash echoed behind him, but Mu Congyun didn’t dare look back. 

Channeling all his spiritual energy, he dashed forward like a phantom.

“It’s you again!” 

Shen Qi shifted back into human form, his surging miasmic energy causing his robes to billow. 

The thought that this intruder might have been lurking long enough to witness his true form made the flames at his fingertips flicker uncontrollably, his killing intent growing sharper.

“Xuan… Ling… Disciple,” he growled, each syllable dripping with malice as he glared in the direction Mu Congyun had vanished. But he didn’t give chase immediately.

Forcing down his rage, Shen Qi clenched his teeth before finally flicking his sleeve and heading toward Dongzhou City.

Fearing he might implicate Jin Ni, Mu Congyun avoided fleeing toward Nanhuai Town.

Only after flying dozens of miles in the opposite direction did he dare to stop. 

Still, he remained on high alert-the dragon’s behavior in the forest had been too bizarre. 

Who knew what unpredictable sorcery might be lying in wait?

He concealed himself carefully, not relaxing until deep into the night when he was certain no pursuit had come.

The time spent hiding had been enough to recover. 

Without delay, Mu Congyun prepared to return to Nanhuai Town by sword, but then he realized something-in his frantic escape, he had unknowingly crossed beyond the town’s boundaries.

Earlier, after entering Nanhuai Town, they had found it impossible to leave by any means, and all communication with the outside world had been cut off.

Yet now, he had exited without obstruction.

Recalling the nearly depleted miasma in the forest and the giant tree stripped bare by the dragon, Mu Congyun formed a hypothesis-the root of Nanhuai Town’s anomaly was likely tied to that mysterious tree.

He took out his communication jade slip, recorded the key events in Nanhuai Town, and sent the message to his master before setting off to reunite with Jin Ni.