Alduin, the Dragon Lord, continued solemnly, “If you are willing to bear the responsibility of protecting the Dragonkin, I shall personally conduct the bloodline conversion ritual for you.”
Arrogance. That was Lu Qiuchen’s impression of dragons.
They foresaw the coming apocalypse. They knew players were here to change fate. And yet, even as they sought help, they still clung to their insufferable pride—treating aid like a favor bestowed from above.
Lu Qiuchen felt a twinge of irritation. But as a player, why should he fuss over an NPC’s attitude? Besides, the rewards were clearly worth it. He talked himself down internally.
[Please consider carefully. This choice will significantly affect future story progression. Your character’s attributes may change as a result.]
The system’s prompt appeared right on cue, followed by detailed information on the bloodline conversion ritual.
Bloodline Conversion Ritual:
Allows hybrid dragons to undergo a lineage upgrade, evolving into true pureblood dragons. The transformation is akin to a full-body rebirth and is highly sought after by many draconic hybrids.
However, the ritual is rare due to the immense cost—it requires precious materials and the vital blood of adult dragons.
“I accept,” Lu Qiuchen replied, looking straight into the eyes of the ancient dragon.
To him, there was nothing to hesitate about—after all, gaming was about seeking novelty and thrill. A chance to control a dragon from a first-person perspective? Absolutely unmissable.
Of course, some players had a contrarian streak—choosing to go against the developer’s intended flow just for the sake of it. It was like playing a normal dating sim but wanting the heroine to fall from grace, or playing an H-game only to stubbornly aim for a chaste route.
“Even though I’ve deliberately suppressed my dragon’s aura, you are the first hybrid to dare meet my gaze. Truly, the prophesied Dragon of Destiny is no ordinary being.”
Alduin gave a slow, approving nod in response to Lu Qiuchen’s firm answer.
‘It’s not that I’m extraordinary—it’s just that your Dragon’s Presence is getting 90% debuffed as a negative status effect.’ Lu Qiuchen grumbled inwardly.
He didn’t actually feel any pressure.
He had only noticed a debuff labeled [Dragon’s Might] in his status bar—and something as intangible as mental oppression? Who could say if it was even real?
Around him, the gathered dragons responded. Some took flight from their caverns, while others rose on all fours, watching Lu Qiuchen with kindly, approving eyes.
“Your bloodline traces back to the Silver Dragons, though it’s quite diluted. Joining the Silver Dragon lineage would be the most appropriate choice. You can choose a different lineage, but doing so will involve some additional pain during the ritual.”
“If you opt for another clan, the process will require extracting your Silver Dragon blood first. It’ll be extremely painful and may even cause some damage to your psyche,” a nearby red dragon added helpfully.
“I’ll join the Silver Dragons,” Lu Qiuchen replied without hesitation.
Between the coal-mine aesthetic of the Black Dragons, the bloated, round-bellied Green Dragons, and the grotesquely spiny Blue Dragons, he far preferred the elegance of the Reds and Silvers.
Red Dragons had the most balanced builds—but among the purebloods, they were the smallest. It felt like they’d always be a head shorter in an argument.
And in the real world, Lu Qiuchen already had enough height-related trauma.
The silver dragon had a slender body, yet its wings were broad and full. Its shimmering silver exterior exuded both mystery and nobility—truly the dragon of Lu Qiuchen’s dreams.
Seeing that Lu Qiuchen had made his choice, Odoyin ordered the various dragons that had crawled out of their caves and gathered around, “Those of the silver dragon clan, stay. All others are dismissed. Meeting adjourned.”
As the gathered dragons slowly dispersed, only Odoyin, Lu Qiuchen, a handful of silver dragons, and a few visibly larger-than-average “mature” dragons remained.
Now that Lu Qiuchen had agreed to become a member of the dragon race—and had even received the acknowledgment of the Dragonlord himself—the remaining dragons enthusiastically introduced themselves.
The system promptly unlocked a new section of the “Monster Compendium.”
Black Dragon King Tupac, Red Dragon King Andala, Green Dragon King Morpheus, Blue Dragon King Kalmer.
Silver Dragon King Impart, the vigorous silver dragon Ophi, and the newly adult silver dragon sisters Andona and Andora.
Lu Qiuchen noticed that once a dragon introduced itself, the yellow “???” floating above their heads would change to display their names—though he still couldn’t see their levels.
He could only guess that when there was a massive level difference, even friendly units would have their levels hidden.
Odoyin and the Silver Dragon King arranged for the bloodline transformation ceremony to be held the next day and dispatched the four dragon kings to prepare the necessary materials.
Fortunately, most of the key ingredients could be found on Dragon Island, and the rest weren’t particularly rare.
However, since the freshness of some ingredients would affect the transformation’s success rate, the four dragon kings had to travel overnight to collect them.
After discussing a few details about the ritual, the four dragons took their leave from Odoyin and exited the Elder Council chamber.
As it turned out, the silver dragons were the rarest among the pure-blooded dragon clans.
The other four clans—such as the black and blue dragons—each had over a dozen adult dragons, while the larger red and green dragon clans had more than fifteen adult members each.
The silver dragons, however, had only six adults.
Two of those six were a newlywed couple who had gone on a honeymoon to the glaciers of the Northern Sea several years ago. Given how dragons behaved, it was likely they wouldn’t return to Dragon Island for decades.
Although pure-blooded dragons were few in number, that wasn’t really a concern when considering the dragon race’s extremely long lifespan.
A dragon could live for nearly ten thousand years, with some even exceeding that. A single adult dragon could annihilate a fully-equipped battalion of battle mages.
The title of “strongest fighting force” in the world of Eternity was no exaggeration. Just a few centuries ago, a wyrmling had been captured by the once-powerful royal family of the Sama Empire.
An accident during its training resulted in the wyrmling’s death. Three days after the dragons learned of this, that massive empire—which had occupied half the southern continent—was reduced to history.
Now a provisional member of the silver dragon clan, Lu Qiuchen was invited by the Silver Dragon King Impart to their territory.
The younger of the two sisters, Andora, eagerly volunteered to serve as his temporary chauffeur. With that, the group of dragons set off, flying toward Dragon Vein Peak at the center of Dragon Island.
Silver dragons wielded ice magic and preferred living underground or in cold climates.
Naturally, the peak—rising over 5,000 meters above sea level and perpetually snow-covered—had been claimed as silver dragon territory.
Even with his faint trace of silver dragon bloodline, Lu Qiuchen’s cold resistance was only slightly better than that of a normal human.
The icy, magically-enhanced dragon homes were still too harsh for him.
Taking this into account, Andora arranged for him to stay in a “guesthouse” partway up the mountain and warmly invited him to dine with her.
Unlike the other dragons, silver dragons didn’t just feast on meat, eggs, and milk—they also had a fondness for hard diamonds.
In this regard, they were similar to black dragons, who had a particular preference for minerals.
Lu Qiuchen politely declined Andora’s kind invitation. It was already 8 p.m. in the real world, and before logging in, he hadn’t added any nutrient solution to his gaming capsule.
The system had already detected that his body was entering a state of hunger and had sent out a warning notification, but Lu Qiuchen had ignored it in favor of progressing the storyline.
The moment he logged out, his stomach began loudly protesting. Just as he was about to head to the kitchen to grab something to eat, he noticed that the capsule’s internal screen was displaying several missed calls from Zhang Cheng.
Both the Eternity Company’s game capsules and helmets came integrated with mainstream social media communication functions, allowing players to receive external calls even while immersed in the game.
Still, eating came first—no matter how urgent something was, it had to wait until after dinner.
Lu Qiuchen ignored the missed calls, took off his gaming gear, stiffly maneuvered his body out of the capsule, put on his glasses, and changed into his pajamas.
There was a brief period of bodily disorientation upon regaining consciousness in the real world, but it would pass within about 30 seconds.
This was a minor side effect of full-dive holographic gaming. The technician who’d installed the capsule had explained it as a normal aftereffect.
The sky outside hadn’t completely darkened yet. Bathed in the last rays of sunset, Lu Qiuchen stretched his limbs, turned on the lights, and let the warm yellow glow fill the room.
He lived in a 60-square-meter apartment in the city center of S City.
The place had one large bedroom, a living room, a bathroom, a toilet, a kitchen, and a small balcony—and it was entirely owned by Lu Qiuchen.
When he’d been accepted into the prestigious S University a year ago, his parents had gifted him the apartment, located in a bustling commercial district.
However, Lu Qiuchen didn’t spend much time here—he only stayed during summer and winter breaks or on the occasional weekend.
It had been mentioned earlier that Lu Qiuchen’s family background was average—though that was only in comparison to his dormmates.
In their four-person dorm, the eldest, Wang Cong, and second eldest, Zhang Cheng, were both from wealthy families.
Lu Qiuchen’s parents were corporate executives, and only the fourth roommate came from a relatively modest background. But compared to most college students, Lu Qiuchen’s life was still quite privileged.
It was mid-August, right after the start of autumn, but it was still one of the hottest times of the year. The evening air was heavy with heat.
Lu Qiuchen grabbed a bottle of soda and a couple slices of toast from the fridge, then pulled out his phone and ordered takeout.
Just as he set the phone down, Zhang Cheng called again.
“You little punk! You really dared to ignore my calls this afternoon!” he started off with a scolding tone.
“I didn’t see them. I think I need to tweak the settings to accept external calls while in-game. I’ll fix it next time I log in.”
“Alright, fine. But Kid, let me tell you—this game is absolutely insane. I’ve never seen a game that starts players off in a prison and keeps them locked up for hours with no way out.”
“Me and another poor sucker got dropped in some border town or whatever, and the moment we landed, the guards grabbed us and threw us in jail. I mean seriously, how is anyone supposed to play like that?”
“We were in jail for a few hours. Two NPCs were guarding us, but they wouldn’t respond to anything we said—might as well have been wood blocks. In the end, I just chatted with that guy for a while, then logged off.”
Hearing Zhang Cheng’s story, Lu Qiuchen almost laughed, but he also understood—Zhang Cheng was clearly feeling frustrated and had no one else to talk to.
The content of the closed beta wasn’t allowed to be shared online anyway; everyone had signed an NDA, and with the power the Eternity Group held, no one dared mess with them.
“How did it go for you? Which starter village were you assigned to? Did you also end up in jail? What’s your name in the game? Still using Lu Qiuchen? I searched for your name and couldn’t find it.”
The flurry of questions reminded Lu Qiuchen that he hadn’t followed through on their agreement. He felt a little guilty.
“Uh, I wasn’t put in jail. I’m outside, doing fine. Still using the name Lu Qiuchen. You really couldn’t find me?”
Something suddenly occurred to him.
“When exactly did you log out of the game?”
“Hm… probably around 4 in the afternoon,” Zhang Cheng recalled. “After logging off, my auntie dragged me out shopping. I just got home.”
This “auntie” referred to Zhang Cheng’s biological older sister, Zhang Yu. Two years his senior, she was tall, elegant, stunningly attractive, and obsessed with shopping.
Zhang Cheng had been her designated bag carrier since high school. Fortunately, during the second half of their first year, Zhang Cheng met Lu Qiuchen and they became friends.
From then on, the bag-carrying duties were shared, easing Zhang Cheng’s suffering considerably.
Back in their second year, Zhang Cheng and Lu Qiuchen had once rejoiced together when Zhang Yu got accepted to a prestigious university up north—far from home. Otherwise, Zhang Cheng would’ve never known peace on weekends.
But the good times didn’t last. Just last year, Miss Zhang Yu, the model student, started an internship at a company in S City. And the “Bag Boys” were back in business.
In fact, during their 1 PM call, Zhang Cheng had complained that Lu Qiuchen bailed on him a few days ago.
They’d made plans to go eat at a self-serve BBQ place, but Zhang Yu suddenly showed up and whisked Lu Qiuchen away to serve as a pack mule.
Some people might think tagging along with a beautiful woman is a dream gig, but Lu Qiuchen wasn’t so thrilled.
The only reason was: his bare height was a few centimeters shorter than Zhang Yu’s. If she wore heels, the difference was even more noticeable.
Thinking about all this, Lu Qiuchen couldn’t help feeling a bit envious. That pair of siblings had hit the genetic jackpot—great looks aside, they were both super tall. Zhang Yu stood at 178 cm, and Zhang Cheng was just shy of 190.
“That explains it. I probably hadn’t set my name yet at that time.”
“Why? You used to slap a face together faster than I did. What took you so long this time?”
“This was my first time playing a full-dive VR game! Of course I wanted to take it seriously and customize everything.”
“But still—two whole hours? Were you doing things to your avatar or something?”
“I only spent like an hour on the customization, okay?” Lu Qiuchen was speechless. My dear bro, think about it—how would that even work in a full-dive game?
“Ha! I got you to admit it. You said five minutes, but you flaked on me again. It’s going in my notebook.”
Come on, I never even promised you that…
“Wait, that’s not right. You said you only spent one hour. I searched for your name before I logged off.”
“Didn’t you only get to set your nickname after starting the main quest?”
“What nonsense is that? What kind of online game lets you add friends before setting a name?”
Lu Qiuchen had a sudden realization—of course! Zhang Cheng got thrown into jail right after entering the game. He never had the chance to even start the main quest.