Chapter 43: Decapitation Day Part 1

“It’s been a long time. How many times has it been now that I’ve woken up to the sight of humans?” The Candle Dragon licked its dragon claw with an unexpectedly calm demeanor.

“The tenth,” Shi Zui said, staring straight into the dragon’s eyes. She wasn’t even as big as one of its claws—calling their situation a mantis trying to stop a chariot was putting it mildly. “And maybe the last.”

“That tone of yours reminds me of a human friend I had once.” The Candle Dragon gazed at Shi Zui, its voice dropping inexplicably.

“A human friend?”

“Is that so strange? From ancient times to now, every human who’s laid eyes on me has worn a look of grim resolve or sorrow, reciting how many kin and friends I’ve slain. I’m sick of it—bored, like watching the same play repeated for thousands of years. But she was different, so…”

The Candle Dragon chewed on the remnants of an exotic beast in its mouth, its expression twisting into something like a smirk. “So in the end, I buried her in the Ice Sea.”

Ye Jingqiu shivered. You really couldn’t judge a wild beast’s actions by human logic. Being friends with one of them was nothing short of a tragedy.

Shi Zui nodded. “Then it looks like my fate might turn out a little better than hers.”

“You want to pick your own way to die? Human, we crossed paths once on the sea five years ago. You were probably the mightiest of your kind, elevated to godhood amid applause and cheers. But make no mistake—you still know nothing of true power.”

The Candle Dragon gestured toward the distance. “That’s why I suggest you grab those two corpses and get the hell out of here right now. It might buy you a few more days of scraping by.”

A curse. It had to be a curse.

Ye Jingqiu thought, How the hell am I a corpse just for lying down? I was just worn out from playing around with those dragon flame bubbles and needed a breather—is that not allowed? What’s the difference between this and dozing off for two minutes in class, only for the teacher to smirk and declare your finals are toast? This dragon was even more high-handed than her math teacher.

“The truly clueless ones might be you,” Shi Zui murmured. “If memory serves, your last real awakening was back in the seventeenth century. Awakeners were still relying on machine guns and cold steel then. If you’d seen humans wielding elemental weapons five years ago, you might not be talking like this.”

“But right now, it’s just you standing before me.”

“They’re waiting for you outside the Golden Hall’s main gates. All I have to do is complete my mission.” Shi Zui’s eyes began to cloud over with a gray haze, as if some mechanism deep within her had clicked into gear. “Let’s get started. We’ve talked enough.”

A massive stream of scorching flames began to coalesce in midair. The silver box clicked open once more. Shi Zui thrust out her right hand and drew the Celestial Stem Bronze Sword again. Elemental energy surged faster and faster, like a river crumbling off a cliff, roaring forward without return.

Shi Zui moved. Wings formed of Hurricane Blade propelled her like a shooting star, the bronze sword wreathed in black flame bright enough to illuminate the world. Two utterly different instincts erupted in unison. Her exhausted body suddenly sprang back to life in that instant, every bone slotting into perfect alignment.

“Another new instinct?” The Candle Dragon sounded intrigued. “So that’s what you were doing—building up your power. You really don’t have much time left.”

Shi Zui said nothing more. She plunged straight into the Candle Dragon’s Dragon Domain, her sword blade gleaming with unyielding killing intent. Dragon and human clashed with a toll like an ancient bell, drawing open the curtain on what might as well have been the grand finale of a beast arena.

Only one person—or one beast—would make it out of here alive. The overload of elements left Shi Zui dizzy, crimson liquid seeping slowly from the gaps between her bones and flesh. At a time like this, “bleeding” didn’t even begin to cover it. As long as her skeleton held together, she could keep fighting.

Going toe-to-toe with a giant dragon was beyond imagining. Leaving aside the insane size disparity—like an ant toppling a tree—its claws or its tail, studded with bone spikes sharp as spears, could impale a human to the ground in a heartbeat.

Shi Zui charged the Dragon Domain again and again. Five years earlier, she’d faced this dragon alone in the East Sea, but back then she had a whole Base serving as her arsenal. Run out of man-portable missiles? Hook up the heavy torpedoes. Magnetic storm fizzle? Switch to electrostatic discharge.

Blades dulling in melee? No sweat—the priceless sword vault was on standby, ready to supply her with whatever she needed, from Japanese katanas to azure jade swords of the Han dynasty. Auction prices be damned; they were all hers at fire-sale rates!

The problem was, they were deep inside this dragon’s domain now. Xie Pingzhi had all those swords and elemental weapons tied up fending off the exotic beast horde. All that was left for Shi Zui were these eight weathered ancient swords. Truth be told, they weren’t doing much; the real weapon was Shi Zui herself.

This human-shaped engine of destruction had bloodlust in her eyes. Her bronze sword was drenched in dragon blood. Xu Xianyue’s Azure Lamp had been a godsend—the stark azure glow raced up the dragon’s spine, forcing it to split its attention. Otherwise, Shi Zui would have been dragon chow long ago.

Even the dragon’s ancient scales doubled as weapons. Elements churned through every inch of Shi Zui’s body. Scales gashed deep wounds that laid bare the glistening white bone beneath, only for aether elements to flood in the next second, stitching the damage back together.

Cells multiplied at impossible speeds. Her heart thumped powerfully, pumping fresh blood. This wasn’t some fragile flesh-and-blood frame anymore; she was like a pocket watch handcrafted by a nineteenth-century artisan, every gear meshing with flawless precision.

The agony was like lingchi—death by a thousand cuts—torn asunder and mended in endless cycles. If this weren’t Shi Zui’s own doing, the Candle Dragon might have suspected it was some vicious instinct of its own making.

The dragon’s claw came crashing down with the force of ten thousand tons. Shi Zui gritted her teeth. She gave up any thought of evasion and raised her longsword high. Driving it through that claw just might throw off the beast’s balance.

The black shadow grew ever denser until it came to an abrupt halt, just a hair’s breadth from Shi Zui’s sword hilt. Her mind hadn’t even begun to process the reason when her battle-hardened instincts took over in the next instant. She whipped her sword upward, cleaving straight through the giant dragon’s foreclaw. Scorching dragon blood sprayed in all directions, white steam hissing from the wound like a geyser.

The dragon did begin to list to one side. But it wasn’t because Shi Zui had pierced its footpad. It was Ye Jingqiu.

Ye Jingqiu stood tall atop the dragon’s spine, gripping her sword. Loteria hadn’t picked the wrong person—this seventeen-year-old girl could truly stand shoulder to shoulder with Shi Zui and Constance. She drew a second ancient sword.

Han Gaozu’s White Dragon Slaying Artifact finally saw the light of day once more. The history books weren’t entirely accurate, after all; perhaps some clerk’s hand had trembled as he wrote, changing the dragon’s color in the ancient records.

But that was no great matter. At least this sword could truly kill it!

Ye Jingqiu seized the blade with both hands and drove it downward with savage force. Azure Flame licked at her pant legs and the sword itself. She hammered a hole right through the Candle Dragon’s spine—an unimaginable feat of strength. Perhaps it was the sheer will to survive at work.

The agony of a shattered spine went far beyond a mere fracture. Exotic beasts were living creatures too, and this Candle Dragon had a full central nerve running through its spinal cord. The Azure Flame swarmed like army ants scenting fresh blood and flesh. It eagerly burrowed into the breach, igniting what the ancients had called the “dragon tendon.”

It was torture straight out of Satan’s playbook. The Candle Dragon finally unleashed a deep, furious roar. This Azure Flame might as well have been the ninth dragon-slaying divine weapon. Its hind claws teetered on the brink of total loss of control.

Yet in that instant, the dragon made the optimal choice. It leaned into the tilt, uncoiling its massive body in an attempt to crush the insignificant ant on its back beneath its ten-thousand-ton frame.

But she had two opponents.

“Listen, I’ve loaded the Candle Dragon’s combat parameters into the Will Ring…” In the final moment before the dragon crashed to the ground, Shi Zui unleashed Hurricane Blade and swept Ye Jingqiu away. She moved to thrust her wrist ring into Ye Jingqiu’s hand, only for her words to be cut short.

“Are you telling me to take the Will Ring and run?”

Having downed two emergency rescue pills, Ye Jingqiu had stanched her bleeding for the time being. On the surface, at least, she looked far better off than Shi Zui. She locked eyes with her: “And then watch you lie there like Teacher Xiao Xu, not knowing if you’re dead or alive?”

Shi Zui faltered for a heartbeat. This was the first time she’d heard Ye Jingqiu speak to her like that—calm on the surface, yet seething beneath, like a volcano on the verge of eruption, barely containing its fury.

Some say that brushing with death is the quickest path to growth, whether it’s your own or someone else’s. The former makes you confront what you truly want—what you must do. The latter ripens the mind overnight.

Ye Jingqiu had endured both in short order. Suddenly, Shi Zui realized she could no longer think of her merely as a little teammate. This was an awakener who had reached out and yanked her from beneath the dragon’s claw.

But the Candle Dragon wouldn’t grant them time for heartfelt exchanges. This wasn’t some language exam with two and a half hours to wax poetic—it was an Asura Field, where every second was a roll of the dice with death.

A claw lashed out like lightning. The Creator was unfair indeed; in granting this beast its colossal frame and godlike power, God had also bestowed blinding speed. The dragon’s hooked talons exploded forward with cheetah-like force, afterimages slashing through the air. The two women were forced apart.