Chapter 220

It was a moonless night—pitch-black, the heavens and earth swallowed by darkness.

On the back mountain, a faintly translucent figure opened its eyes. The dragon soul lifted its head ever so slightly, casting a wary glance toward a crude grass hut nearby, where a man appeared to be resting with his eyes closed.

A cold glint flickered in the dragon’s gaze. Slowly, silently, it uncoiled its massive spectral body, keeping its attention fixed on the sleeping figure.

It didn’t know who this man was or where he came from. It only knew that its soul had been forcibly summoned here by him—and that merely being near this person made its entire essence tremble with fear. It wasn’t a conscious kind of fear, but one that came from deep within the soul itself—instinctive, primal terror.

The feeling was maddening. It couldn’t understand why it was afraid. It had thought countless times about escaping, but every time it looked at him, that instinctual dread returned—an unspoken certainty that this man was something it could never defy.

But lately, its soul had begun to regenerate faint traces of life force. It could feel it—a flicker of vitality, a whisper of hope. Perhaps, if it could only escape this place, it could possess a body, rebuild its strength, and once again become a true dragon.

And then it could avenge itself.

The thought filled its soul with rage, twisting its spectral form. Those mortals had humiliated it, slain it, stripped it bare like livestock—how could it ever forget that hatred? That humiliation? It would make them pay.

And its Soul Origin Pearl—that too must be recovered. The Emperor could not be kept waiting any longer.

Determination flared. The dragon soul steadied itself, inching toward the edge of the vegetable field, never taking its eyes off the man in the hut.

He didn’t move. His breathing was steady—utterly unguarded.

Good.

The dragon coiled tightly, gathering all its remaining power. Then, with a single burst of energy, it shot forward.

To its surprise, there was no resistance—no array, no talismanic ward, nothing at all. It passed the edge of the field effortlessly.

He didn’t set any traps?

Before it could ponder that, a lazy voice drifted from behind:

“Xiao Huang, don’t go down the—”

But the rest of the sentence was cut off.

The dragon soul was already gone, streaking down the mountain like a shooting star.

It pushed its speed to the limit, fear clawing at its very core. He noticed me! He’s awake! He’s chasing me—!

Every nerve screamed for it to flee faster.

The mountain wind roared in its ears as it plunged toward the valley below. It could almost feel that terrible presence closing in behind it, that suffocating aura pressing against its back.

Too strong.

It had to get away—now, or it would never escape alive.

It darted through the night, desperate, until a faint orange glow appeared ahead. A lamp.

There—human life!

Through a half-open window, it saw a silhouette moving inside, kneading something on a table.

A mortal!

Its soul thrilled with a wicked idea.

If it could just possess that human—take his body as its own—then no one in this world could harm it. Those Celestial Masters wouldn’t dare strike down an innocent host.

Perfect.

Without a second thought, the dragon soul dove through the window with a crash of splintering wood, shattering the frame to splinters. It didn’t even look at who the person was—it lunged straight for him.

Just as it was about to merge into the man’s body—

Boom!

A blinding golden light erupted. The dragon soul didn’t even have time to scream before it was hurled backward, every inch of its essence sliced apart by the radiance like a thousand divine blades.

Its life force and soul power disintegrated in an instant.

“AAAAHHHHH!!!”

Its scream tore through the night—raw, guttural, filled with pain a hundred times worse than its physical death.

Inside, the man who’d been kneading dough paused.

He turned to look at the shattered window. Then at the flour-covered stove, now coated in ash and splinters.

His dough… was ruined.

The man’s flawless, ethereal features darkened. His expression sank like an incoming storm, and the temperature in the room plummeted. Frost bloomed across the floor in an instant.

He stepped outside.

Each of his slow, deliberate footsteps froze the ground solid.

The dragon soul lay sprawled on the earth, half-destroyed, trembling violently. Before it could even gather its wits, a wave of bone-piercing cold swept over it. Its translucent body began to crystallize, ice creeping across its form.

The terror was overwhelming. It could feel death coming again—this time for its very soul.

“W-wait! Wait!”

A frantic voice interrupted. Ying Lun came sprinting from the side, throwing himself between them.

“Night Abyss! Stop! If you keep that up, it’ll shatter completely! It’s just a bug—why are you getting so worked up over a bug?!”

The cold didn’t lessen.

Night Abyss—his gaze like a glacier—turned his eyes toward Ying Lun and said in a low, dangerous tone:

“It was you who let it out.”

“Uh… well…” Ying Lun froze. He scratched his head sheepishly. “That was… sort of an accident? I didn’t think it’d move that fast, and before I could—hey, hey, what are you—OW! Stop—ah! Not the face! Don’t—my face, damn it!”

Night Abyss clearly wasn’t listening. His boot came down, once, twice, each strike sharp and precise, pounding Ying Lun into the dirt with the measured patience of a man exorcising stress.

“Night Abyss, you petty little—OW OW OW! Stop—okay, I get it! I get it!”

Panic-stricken, Ying Lun flailed uselessly beneath him. When that failed, a desperate thought struck him—his only chance.

“Wait! Don’t forget—this dragon—this dragon was your little apprentice’s find! You can’t blame me!”

The kicking stopped.

Night Abyss froze mid-step.

Ying Lun exhaled in relief, rubbing his bruised cheek. Whatever that dragon had done, it had clearly really pissed Night Abyss off. If not for that reminder, he’d probably have been kicked into the underworld by now.

He quickly pressed on. “Think about it! Your precious disciple dragged this dragon back for a reason. If you kill it now and she sees tomorrow that you destroyed it—she’ll definitely be upset, right?”

Night Abyss’ eyes flicked toward the mangled dragon soul, his expression glacial. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a sharp exhale, he turned and strode back toward the kitchen.

“…Get it out of my sight.”

The words were colder than any ice.

But he stopped attacking.

Ying Lun sighed in relief. Thank the heavens for the little apprentice.

He scrambled up, grabbed the half-dead dragon soul like a sack of laundry, and hurried back up the mountain.

As he poured some yin energy into it to stabilize it, he muttered under his breath:

“Seriously, what were you thinking? I told you not to go down the mountain! You just had to run. And not only that—you ran to the back courtyard of all places! And you just had to crash into him! Of all the people to attack, you pick Night Abyss? Really?!”

The dragon soul trembled pitifully.

Mother of mercy… the mortal world is terrifying. I want to go home.

(End of Chapter)