Inside the Dragon Temple.
“Seeking your own death!”
The Emperor’s voice was no longer old and raspy; it had become a reverberating roar filled with overwhelming pressure.
Golden light flowed around his body, and the dragon scales erupting from his skin shimmered with a daunting, cold glint.
He took one step after another toward Shen Luolin. Every footfall produced a dull, thundering boom, as if a moving mountain were approaching.
Shen Luolin’s chest heaved violently. The draconic pressure washing over him was so intense that his bones groaned under the unbearable weight.
The Emperor, in his state of Partial Dragonification, possessed power that far exceeded his imagination.
However, at that moment, Shen Luolin suppressed his fear into the deepest part of his heart, transforming it into a state of extreme calm.
He stared at the inhuman being before him, his gaze as cold as frost. He flipped the longsword in his hand, pointing the tip directly at the Emperor’s left ribs.
There, the golden dragon scales slightly opened and closed, revealing an extremely inconspicuous gap.
The moment he saw that gap, a buried memory flashed back like a bursting dam.
It had been during a bloody battle at the northern border. He had been besieged by several heavy-armored Orc warriors and was nearly exhausted.
At the height of his despair, a burly figure had blocked his path like a mountain. It was the leader of the Frostwolf Knights, Old Commander Rhine-Cid.
Rhine-Cid’s dragon claws had easily shredded the enemy’s armor, but he did not linger on the fight. Instead, he suddenly turned his body and roared at him in a sharp, low voice, “Luolin! Cover my left ribs! The seam of the dragon scales… that is our only weakness!”
In that moment, Shen Luolin had seen a gap that had slightly opened due to the intense combat beneath Rhine-Cid’s indestructible scales.
That was the absolute trust of a comrade entrusting his life to another.
Rhine-Cid had laid bare his own—and indeed, the entire dragon-kin’s—greatest weakness before him.
And now, that trust had turned into the sharpest blade in his hand, aimed at the Emperor!
He did not respond to the Emperor’s mockery; he only gave his answer through action.
The longsword cut through the air, letting out a clear, ringing chime.
Shen Luolin’s figure was like a bolt of lightning. He evaded the indestructible scales on the Emperor’s front, and his blade pierced toward the gap with a cunning angle.
This strike had no flourish; it possessed only precision and ruthlessness.
Where the sword’s tip touched, the golden light suddenly shattered. The hard dragon scales were actually unable to close completely at that moment, and the blade forced open a tiny crack.
“Hiss—!”
The Emperor let out a pained hiss. His voice was no longer a majestic roar, but one filled with unbelievable anger and shock.
His body trembled violently, and he staggered half a step back. His right claw instinctively clutched the spot where he had been stabbed.
A single drop of golden blood seeped from the crack, shimmering with an eerie light in mid-air.
He lowered his head to look at the golden blood, then looked up at Shen Luolin. Within those vertical pupils burning like lava, there was an unprecedented tremor of shock.
He had never imagined that a mere mortal, using a piece of ordinary iron, could wound him in his state of Partial Dragonification.
“You…!”
The Emperor’s voice carried a hint of uncontrollable trembling. It was not fear, but the extreme rage of being insulted.
He suddenly withdrew the hand covering his wound. The golden blood danced on his fingertips as if it were alive.
Shen Luolin did not give him a chance to breathe.
He knew well that once the Emperor regained his composure, he would never have such a golden opportunity again.
He gripped his sword tightly. The blade created a trail of afterimages as he attacked the Emperor’s unhealed wound once more.
His swordsmanship, at this moment, was like the bitterest wind of the North—leaving no room for error and granting no chance for life.
Enraged, the Emperor’s body erupted with golden light, and his draconic pressure swept through the entire Altar like a tsunami.
He no longer held back. His golden vertical pupils locked onto Shen Luolin, and every inch of his muscles tensed as he channeled the energy within the temple, which had become so dense it was almost viscous.
The Energy Crystal in the center of the Altar also trembled violently, emitting a hum as it funneled a continuous stream of power into the Emperor.
Shen Luolin’s figure swayed in the middle of the violent draconic pressure, yet he did not retreat.
The patterns Rhine-Cid had mentioned regarding the eruption and withdrawal of dragon-kin power flashed rapidly through his mind.
He was like a ghost, weaving between the complex stone pillars and the energy vortexes of the Altar. Every step landed on a node of energy flow, allowing him to narrowly evade several of the Emperor’s heavy attacks at the minimum cost.
Every dodge and every parry was like a precisely calculated move on a chessboard, leading the Emperor’s berserk offensive into a dead end before using the momentum to strike back.
The Emperor swung his dragon claws, bringing with them bursts of sharp wind. The hem of Shen Luolin’s clothes was torn several times, but he was never hit directly.
That inhuman speed and power were barely deflected and dissipated by Shen Luolin in a series of incredibly dangerous maneuvers.
“Little bug! Do you think these petty tricks can contend with a true dragon?!”
The Emperor let out a world-shaking dragon roar, his patience finally exhausted.
He no longer concerned himself with the terrain of the temple. His body suddenly turned into a golden blur, his speed surpassing the limits of Shen Luolin’s reaction time.
Shen Luolin only felt a flash of golden light before an irresistible force slammed into his chest.
The sword in his hand let out a wail as it was shaken loose. It flew out of his grip, spinning until it crashed against a distant stone pillar with a crisp clang.
His body flew in the opposite direction, his back slamming heavily against the stone wall at the edge of the Altar. The massive impact caused a sweet taste to rise in his throat, and a mouthful of blood sprayed out, splashing against the cold stone wall in a shocking display.
He struggled to stand up, but he felt as if his internal organs were being overturned. Every bone in his body felt as though it were falling apart.
The intense pain made his vision darken, and his consciousness began to blur.
Suddenly, the bloodshot eyes of Rhine-Cid during his final moments flashed through Shen Luolin’s mind.
The man who had once been unrivaled was then hanging by a thread, yet he had used the last of his strength to grip Shen Luolin’s hand. ‘Luolin… my daughter, Moyin… she’s still alive… please… you must find her and protect her… do not let her end up like us…’
That heavy entrustment was weightier than any oath.
The first time he had seen Moyin was in the depths of a cold mine.
Back then, her silver hair was a mess, and her thin frame was curled up by the fire. Her eyes held the vigilance and defensiveness of a wild beast.
He had used a piece of smoked meat and half a loaf of black bread to tear through her facade of ferocity, revealing the cowardice of a starving child.
Later, she had clumsily pulled his frozen feet into her arms, using her dragon-kin body heat to warm him.
That shy, filial heart of a young girl had allowed even his icy logic to feel a sliver of warmth.
He even remembered her using that clunky dagger to carve a wooden figure that was ugly yet full of spirit—and that sudden kiss.
That pure emotion, which transcended self-interest, had once felt foreign to him, yet he had been unable to resist it.
However, all those warm memories were eventually frozen in that chaotic mess of snowy slush.
He had seen her back pierced by a halberd. As she was being brutally dragged away, those silver eyes had pierced through all the hideous, greedy faces, through the swirling snow and firelight, to give him one last desperate, shattered look.
There was no longer any hate or love in them, only a dead, silent snowy plain burned to ashes, and a silent but deafening question—
‘So it was you.’
The Emperor’s figure slowly solidified in front of him. A massive dragon claw was raised high, carrying the power to destroy everything as it lunged straight for Shen Luolin’s chest.
Before the claws could even fall, the oppressive wind pressure tore his clothes. The cold aura of death completely enveloped him.
“It’s over!”
The Emperor’s voice was filled with a victor’s cruelty and disdain.
Just as those claws were about to tear through Shen Luolin’s chest—
“ROAR—!!!”
A more violent dragon roar, filled with primal fury, suddenly exploded from the entrance of the Altar!
The sound pierced eardrums and shook souls, making the entire Dragon Temple tremble!
In the next second, a silver stream of light, carrying broken stones and wild winds, crashed into the Altar in an utterly domineering fashion!
Shen Luolin barely raised his head. Through his blurred vision, a slender figure appeared, surrounded by boiling Silver Dragonflame, her eyes as red as blood.
Her silver hair danced wildly. Without a moment’s hesitation, she charged straight at the Emperor.
Her goal was clear, and her killing intent was heaven-shaking, as if she wanted to tear everything before her into pieces!
The moment she charged toward the Emperor, her crimson eyes inadvertently brushed past Shen Luolin. The glance was incredibly brief.
However, that intense hatred, so thick it nearly ignited the air, made Shen Luolin’s heart turn cold.
As expected, the crimson in Moyin’s eyes was not only aimed at the Emperor but also at him.
Her sudden appearance broke the silence of death and interrupted the Emperor’s assault.
The Emperor’s dragon claw froze in mid-air for a brief second, forced back into a defensive position.
He turned around, and for the first time, genuine shock appeared within those lava-burning vertical pupils.
He felt a draconic aura from Moyin that was so vast it was terrifying. That was not some artificially refined bloodline; it was the purest, most primitive power of the dragon-kin.
“This… this is impossible!”
The Emperor’s voice was full of disbelief.
He had thought that the bloodline of the dragon-kin had long since withered away. How could Moyin, who had been half-dead, erupt with such powerful strength?
If so, what was the point of him slaughtering every dragon-kin within the Empire’s borders?
The Emperor and Moyin were now locked in a world-shaking duel.
Silver Dragonflame and golden draconic pressure collided violently in the center of the Altar, producing deafening booms.
The energy within the Dragon Temple went completely berserk. The luminescent stones on the walls flickered on and off, and rubble flew everywhere, creating a tempestuous storm within the small space.
Taking advantage of this chaotic window, Shen Luolin endured the intense pain and adjusted his state.
Shen Luolin knew exactly what his actions toward Moyin meant.
He did not seek Moyin’s understanding. He only desired to forge a world where this young girl, who had suffered so much along the way, could live a stable life.
Even if the price was his own life, he would not hesitate.
As for her hatred, he had no regrets; he accepted it sweetly.
Shen Luolin’s gaze swept over his sword that had been knocked away, then toward the Energy Crystal that was continuously spinning in the center of the Altar.
This death trap was far from over.
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