Chapter 219

Thanks to the Mountain Protection Array, not a single disciple of the Celestial Masters’ Hall was injured. As for the civilians outside the city, a few had been grazed by stray lightning bolts—but because they ran quickly and received prompt medical care, there were no serious casualties.

Ironically, the one who suffered the worst injuries was none other than Patriarch Tang Yi.

That last swipe from the dragon’s tail had knocked him clean out of the air. He’d dodged the main strike, but the tail’s shockwave still sent him tumbling down from the sky. Though he didn’t sustain major internal injuries, the impact fractured his leg.

＿|￣|○|||

Still, he had technically been one of the men who helped defeat a dragon of the upper realm. For the sake of the sect’s honor (and because he was now something of a hero), the head of the Medicine Valley personally tended to his injuries and reset his bones.

Thus ended the so-called catastrophe—with zero fatalities.

Everyone, from the sect leaders to the youngest disciples, stood around dazed. Was that… it?

The almighty Dragon Clan of legend had been wiped out by a single array?

Turns out, immortals weren’t nearly as godlike as the stories claimed.

And perhaps… not that smart, either.

But soon, another question arose:

Hall Master Xu stared at the colossal carcass half-buried in the collapsed ruins of the main hall. Repairing the building was already going to be a nightmare, but leaving the body there was even worse—it still radiated residual celestial energy, and if left unattended, it might disrupt the surrounding spiritual flow.

He sighed and turned to the gathered masters. “Fellow Daoists, this dragon corpse cannot remain here. It should be properly disposed of. Perhaps we can—”

He didn’t finish.

Dozens of eyes lit up like lanterns. The other masters had clearly been waiting for him to say that.

The Artifact-forging instructor stepped forward first, voice brimming with excitement.

“Dispose of it? Hardly! Its scales and bones belong with the Crafting Division! With these materials, I can train the students to forge an entire series of divine-grade weapons. One for every disciple, guaranteed!”

The Talisman-crafting instructor jumped in immediately.

“And the blood! The dragon’s blood is saturated with immortal qi. It’s far better than cinnabar for inscribing high-level talismans. With this, my students could finally reach the Golden-Seal tier!”

The Medicine instructor was next, practically rubbing his hands together.

“The tendons and meridian lines are priceless! Perfect for both anatomical study and alchemical refinement. With enough of these, I could brew hundreds of top-grade elixirs!”

Then came the Formation instructor.

“The horns, whiskers, claws—don’t discard them! Those make excellent formation anchors. Give them to my class, and I’ll return you ten new Mountain Protection Arrays!”

Even the Divination instructor wasn’t about to miss out.

“Enough talk! While it’s still warm, I’ll collect the lingering dragon aura. Maybe I can make a few fortune-boosting charms before it fades!”

Hall Master Xu: “……”

Wait—what?!

He’d asked for help moving the corpse, not dismantling it!

Now they were discussing it like butchers carving up a roast.

“That’s a dragon, not a… spare parts pile!” he sputtered. But the others were already brandishing tools, eyes gleaming with unholy excitement.

Seeing that the situation was spiraling, he leapt forward, waving his arms.

“Hold it! Everyone stop for a moment! Bring Le Jun over—he’s the one who just received that celestial sword. Let him do the cutting!”

“……”

And that was that. The once-mighty dragon soon became the Celestial Sect Academy’s all-purpose training resource depot.

The masters even drew up official regulations:

only students who ranked in the top three of their class in the monthly exams could apply to use dragon materials for projects.

(It was, of course, purely to “encourage academic excellence.” Definitely not an excuse to issue more tests.)

The disciples watching from the sidelines: “……”

So this is what our teachers are really like.

(￣△￣；)

In the end, the dragon was stripped completely clean—every scale, claw, and drop of blood put to “good use.”

Only one problem remained: the meat.

The flesh was too soft for forging, too dry for ink mixing, too dense for medicine, and too oily for talisman paper. It was, in every sense, a waste product—nothing but tons of greasy celestial jerky.

As they debated whether to bury it, Yun Jiao raised a hand, face perfectly serious.

“…Why don’t you let me try cooking a piece?”

Everyone: “……”

Ancestor, are we… having dragon stew tonight?

Ye Yuan: “……”

Old Man Bai: “……”

———

In the end, Yun Jiao did have it buried.

For one, the old man flatly refused to eat it, claiming he now had “psychological trauma.”

For another, it was a rock dragon—its flesh was as dry and stringy as bark. Even the venerable Patriarch herself frowned so hard her eyebrows nearly tied in knots, declaring it “utterly inedible.”

But one person was thrilled—Ying Lun.

He enthusiastically volunteered to handle the burial. Whistling cheerfully, he hauled away an entire hill of dragon meat to the back mountain.

No one asked what he did with it. But somehow, that “immortal flesh that would never decay for a hundred years” had completely rotted away by the next morning.

A week later, the old man came back from the rear mountain carrying celestial cabbages, radishes, and tomatoes—each glowing faintly with immortal qi. The aura around them was almost as rich as the millennia-aged divine fruits Yun Jiao’s own uncle had once brought down from the Upper Realm.

Curious, Yun Jiao went to see for herself.

The moment she entered the garden, she stopped dead.

Hovering above the vegetable patch was an enormous translucent dragon soul, its serpentine body coiled across the entire field as it exhaled waves of immortal energy over the crops.

Yun Jiao: “……”

The dragon turned, noticing her stare.

“What are you looking at?!” it barked irritably. “Never seen a dragon soul farming vegetables before?!”

“…No,” she said honestly. “Can’t say that I have.”

The spectral dragon snorted, glaring. “Tch! Insolent ant! Stare at me again and I’ll dig your eyes out!”

“……”

“Xiao Huang, mind your manners!”

A calm voice called out, and Ying Lun strolled into view.

The mighty dragon froze mid-air. It immediately shrank back several meters, curling up meekly like a scolded puppy.

Ying Lun smiled warmly. “Ah, little disciple, you’re here! After some cucumbers or maybe a melon today? Or perhaps you’re short on seasoning—need to pull some garlic? I tell you, this batch of garlic—”

“What’s that?” Yun Jiao interrupted, pointing at the translucent dragon hovering above the field.

“Oh, that?” Ying Lun said cheerfully. “That’s the dragon’s soul you gave me!”

“…Excuse me?”

He nodded, utterly unfazed. “You know how dense its body’s immortal energy was. I thought it’d make perfect fertilizer—but the aura was too strong, the plants grew too fast. White Fellow couldn’t keep tending the garden, so I… extracted the soul to help out instead. Big fellow like that—plenty of free labor!”

Then he turned and called out to the dragon, “Xiao Huang! Mind your manners. Little disciple here owns this garden. You’re just a guest—no rudeness, understand? And stop shading the cucumbers and tomatoes all day! You’re blocking their sunlight. The leeks, onions, and ginger are the ones that like the shade, remember? Honestly, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“Yes, yes, honored master!” the dragon soul stammered. It immediately floated over to the opposite side of the garden, coiling itself into a spiral like a mosquito-coil umbrella, neatly shading the seasoning patch.

Yun Jiao: “……”

She stared at the spectral dragon’s shadow on the ground.

“…Why does it have a shadow?”

“Oh, I gave it a bit of life force,” Ying Lun explained casually. “But since it’s lost its body, it now lingers between life and death—not quite a ghost, not quite alive. Convenient, isn’t it? Works day and night! I even gave it a name—Xiao Huang. Cute, right? Anyway, as I was saying—about these leeks—”

As he launched into another long-winded lecture about agricultural balance and qi-infused soil, Yun Jiao could only stare at the dragon soul obediently photosynthesizing over a patch of garlic greens.

She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

The Celestial Masters’ Hall had only harvested the dragon’s corpse.

Ying Lun had harvested its soul.

Truly… he was the real monster.

(End of Chapter)