Mr. Dragon waited quietly for his wife to return, one hand serving as Mengmeng’s pillow. The little bird’s feathers tickled his skin.
The snow outside was falling rather heavily. The courtyard was silent, yet it was no longer filled with the deathly stillness of the past.
He gently closed his eyes and released a faint trace of his spiritual consciousness. The palace, which had once felt desolate and had been nothing more than a place to stay, gradually unfolded before him.
The messy bundles of firegrass in the kitchen had been tidied and stacked neatly together. Various seasonings were arranged in an orderly row on top of the cupboard, while a small sack of spiritual rice had been placed on the shelf below.
The nest of the three little chicks had been moved into the kitchen. A warming stone had been placed inside their cage, and the chicks were currently huddled together, playing some unknown game.
Behind the kitchen in the side hall was a patch of ground that had not been paved with stone. Most of the soil had already been dug up, and a shovel rested nearby.
There was a streak of blood in the corner of the wall, left behind when she had accidentally injured herself. It had already dried into a dark-red stain.
Passing through the long corridor would lead to the main room.
There was only this one room, and everywhere within it carried traces of her presence and her scent.
The courtyard was quite large but had always been terribly empty. Now, however, many young plants had been placed around it.
Most of them were sheltered beneath the eaves, but one or two had strayed beyond the covered area. Their tender shoots swayed in the wind as snow settled on them.
Ah.
So she could be careless too.
A faint smile flashed through Mr. Dragon’s eyes.
He carefully moved his legs. The pain caused by the curse seeped out from deep within his bones, making his face turn pale for a moment.
In truth, he had recovered considerably over the past few days.
The amount of time he could remain awake was steadily increasing, and the fifth fragment of his origin core was almost fully reconnected.
However, most of his spiritual power remained sealed. Using it to fly or even merely to lessen the pain would be far too extravagant.
After all, he currently had no way of obtaining spirit stones.
Everything he had accumulated in the past had been plundered during that battle.
He was being supported by his wife now.
He had to be frugal.
After some more time had passed, he would try going outside and bringing something back.
At the thought of that person, Mr. Dragon felt as though even the pain had diminished slightly.
The tips of his feet rested inside her slippers, while more than half of each foot hung outside them.
Mr. Dragon’s cheeks warmed.
His feet were very large.
His wife had forgotten to buy him shoes.
The moment the dragon moved, Mengmeng lost its warm and fluffy backrest.
The little chirp, still snoring softly, toppled face-first onto the table. Yet it stubbornly refused to wake and continued sleeping soundly.
Mengmeng was still very young and required a great deal of sleep every day.
Mr. Dragon ignored it.
Coldly supporting himself against the table with both hands, he moved carefully. His pale-blue robe stirred in the faint breeze.
His legs had once been powerful, but now they felt as though every bone had been shattered.
The pain began at the tips of his toes and stabbed all the way through his meridians. His muscles were rigid, and even the slightest movement sent agony deep into his bones.
Although his legs appeared intact from the outside, they had already begun rotting from within.
Without using spiritual power, he could only rely on the strength of his arms to slowly drag himself forwards.
He was worse off than an ordinary mortal.
Worse even than a cripple.
Mr. Dragon’s knuckles turned white.
At last, he managed to “walk” beyond the area surrounding the table, but the door was still a great distance away.
Dense beads of sweat had already formed across his forehead from the pain.
He turned slightly and caught sight of himself in the bronze mirror beside the wardrobe.
His face was covered in terrifying curse markings, resembling black-and-red blood flowing beneath his skin.
They crisscrossed densely over his face, stretching from his forehead down into the collar of his robe.
The long hair at his temples had been dampened by sweat and clung to his skin, forming a stark contrast against the deathly pale portions of his face that had not been covered by the curse.
His lips were bluish-purple.
The broken horn on his forehead was savage and hideous.
He looked like a monster.
Mr. Dragon’s pupils contracted.
He knew that he looked ugly now, but he had never seen himself this clearly before.
Looking like this, where had he found the confidence to believe that his wife might feel something more for him?
After all, this was the version of him she had always seen.
Not the appearance he deceived himself into imagining, but a scar-covered, disabled, and hideous dragon.
Bottomless emotions surged through his eyes.
Mr. Dragon suddenly felt disgusted with himself.
She cared for him wholeheartedly, never despising his ugliness or resenting the trouble he caused.
Yet he took advantage of her kindness and lack of vigilance, attempting every day to move a little closer to her and become a little more intimate.
But he…
He wanted to drag her into hell with him.
Mr. Dragon stared at the slightly distorted face reflected in the bronze mirror.
Darkness spread through his heart, and a broken gasp escaped his throat.
He was not completely confident that he could protect her.
And yet, greedily, despicably, selfishly, and overbearingly, he still wanted to be with her.
His desire to possess her was stronger than any desire he had ever felt for anything else.
Cold sweat covered his palms.
A sudden burst of agony erupted from the cursed area behind his knees.
The curse he had been suppressing seized the opportunity to invade, attempting to destroy the fifth origin-core fragment that was about to reconnect.
His consciousness blurred for an instant.
Beneath his long robe, Mr. Dragon’s legs transformed into a dragon’s tail. The scales rapidly withered and turned yellow, tearing through his undergarments.
His long lashes trembled from the pain, and blood slowly spilled from the corner of his lips.
His tainted blood splattered across the floor.
Scales flickered in and out of view upon his face. His gaze became unfocused for several seconds before rapidly regaining clarity.
Mr. Dragon struggled to remain conscious.
He rushed into the courtyard and raised a hand to seal the bedroom door.
The movement stirred up a fierce, freezing wind that blew Mengmeng straight off the table and into the wall.
The plump chirp struck the wall with a loud *smack* before falling onto the floor, its little bottom slamming against the icy ground.
The pain made Mengmeng leap upright at once.
That awful dragon had thrown this chirp and hit this chirp!
Mengmeng felt extremely, extremely wronged.
It raised one tiny wing in a very human-like manner and wiped the corner of its eye.
After climbing to its feet, it gritted its little beak and prepared to demand justice from the dragon.
However, before its thin legs had carried it more than two steps, a scale wrapped in black mist flew through the window and struck it on the head.
Mengmeng was stunned senseless.
Its head immediately became dizzy, and it felt as though it had inhaled some of the black mist.
A sharp pain spread through its tiny body.
Weakly, it chirped twice towards the half-open window.
The window had already been completely blocked by an enormous creature.
Mengmeng could only see blood rolling down the gigantic scales.
The overwhelming scent of blood made it feel as though it had returned to the days shortly after it had hatched.
All the little chirps that had once played with it throughout the forest had been killed.
Mengmeng…
Mengmeng hurt so much too.
“Chirp… chirp…”
Wanwan.
It would be good if Wanwan were here.
Mengmeng thought it was about to die.
This chirp could barely breathe anymore.
It wanted to rub against her one more time.
Mengmeng weakly opened its tender yellow beak and forced itself to roll over, facing the little nest Mu Wanwan had made for it.
For the first time, tears fell from its large eyes.
…
The sound of scales falling filled the courtyard.
They crashed against the ground, accompanied by agonised dragon roars.
Had Mr. Dragon not previously set up a formation, the tremendous disturbance and foul smell would certainly have attracted attention within three minutes.
However, because of the formation, no one who remained beyond ten metres of the palace could sense anything unusual.
The curse’s backlash, triggered by the reconnection of the fifth origin-core fragment, continued for nearly two hours.
The entire courtyard was dyed red with blood.
The unfortunate seedlings splashed by the tainted blood all withered and died.
The enormous dragon exhausted both his physical and mental strength, but he successfully reconnected the fifth fragment of his origin core.
Had it not been for the curse-relieving spiritual plants his wife had been feeding him during this period, his origin core might already have shattered, causing his body to explode.
Even so, his current condition was far from good.
Most of his meridians had ruptured.
Although he had temporarily suppressed the curse, he would still require a long period of recovery.
Mr. Dragon had not yet recovered from the intense pain when he sensed a familiar aura approaching little by little beneath a bamboo hat.
She was back.
His heart suddenly clenched.
An indescribable panic instantly spread through him.
The enormous dragon ignored the scales falling from his body and desperately began shrinking himself.
But it was too slow.
Far too slow.
—
Carrying a basket on her back, Mu Wanwan bid farewell to Hongye and hurried towards the courtyard.
She had already planned everything.
Once she returned, she would first check on the dragon and the chirp. Then she would go to the kitchen and stew the third-rank spiritual ox bones she had just purchased.
After that, she would complete some household chores, cultivate her spiritual plants, and perhaps refine a batch of pills if there was enough time.
Now that it was snowing, clothes would be even more difficult to dry.
The new undergarments she had purchased also needed to be washed before they could be worn.
Mu Wanwan felt slightly troubled.
Her footsteps left shallow marks across the snow.
She was now a third-rank cultivator, and her control over “force” had reached a certain level.
Although her wood-element spiritual power was not particularly suited for attacking, she could still achieve the effect of lifting heavy objects as though they weighed nothing if she used it correctly.
She was merely not very skilled at it yet.
For now, she only felt that her body was much lighter than before.
Mu Wanwan quickly entered the palace grounds and arrived outside the courtyard.
She did not know whether it was merely her imagination, but today felt very different from usual.
The moment she approached the courtyard gates, the thick smell of blood filled her nose.
Even the sky seemed darker.
A terrible premonition rose in Mu Wanwan’s heart.
She lifted her head and caught only a glimpse of the blurred shadow of a gigantic beast flashing past.
Then the sky returned to pale grey, and snowflakes slowly drifted down, as though everything she had just seen had been an illusion.
The sound of something heavy crashing to the ground reached her ears.
Mu Wanwan shuddered.
No longer allowing herself to think, she opened the heavy lock with trembling hands and pushed open the gates.
An overwhelming wave of blood rushed towards her, accompanied by bloodstained snowflakes whipped into the air.
The force knocked the bamboo hat from her head and loosened her tied-up hair.
A fierce, bloody wind struck her face with a damp, icy chill and splashed dark-red spots across her plain-coloured dress.
The grey-white snowy world before Mu Wanwan seemed to turn crimson in an instant.
The swirling snow stung her eyes.
She raised an arm to shield her face from the cutting wind and struggled to see what lay ahead.
She could only make out a blurred figure and countless withered yellow scales falling from the sky.
She reached out and caught one.
A sharp pain pierced her palm.
Mu Wanwan’s pupils contracted as a tremendous wave surged through her heart.
It was one of Mr. Dragon’s scales.
Was all this blood his?
Growing frantic, she rushed two steps forwards.
The courtyard gate slammed shut behind her.
A powerful current of air pinned her against it, forcing her spine against the door handle.
The pain was so intense that she could not straighten her waist.
Physiological tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.
In a dishevelled state, Mu Wanwan watched the mist filling the courtyard gradually disperse.
A corner of a pale-blue brocade robe flickered before her eyes.
Then she finally saw the person standing in the middle of the devastated courtyard.
Long black hair spilled across his shoulders.
A savage broken horn protruded from his forehead.
His fluffy ears had been stained red.
Terrifying black-and-red markings covered his entire face.
Everything was exactly as she remembered.
Except for those eyes—
Those unfathomably dark, pitch-black pupils.
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