Chapter 4: A Torture

**Dragonherder**

Ah, look at me now—just a silkworm farmer.

Living off the silk I sell, scraping by with a quiet, unremarkable life. If nothing goes wrong, next year I’ll marry Xiao Yan from across the street—the girl who makes silk—and settle into a rhythm of ordinary days, drifting along like a leaf on a stream.

Zhu Minglang had long since worn down his dreams. He no longer dreamed of glory. All he wanted was to plant a few mulberry trees, raise silkworms in some forgotten corner of the world where no one knew his name… and just fade away quietly.

Who would’ve thought that one day, he’d end up sharing a dungeon cell with a radiant Valkyrie—the immortal ruler of Yongcheng?
What a chaotic little life this has become.

He closed his eyes, lost in confusion.

Not long after, exhaustion pulled him under.

……

*Zzzzzip… zzzzzip…*

Smells amazing. Is someone frying rolls again?

Zhu Minglang stirred awake, the scent of sizzling oil flooding his senses.

He splashed cold water on his face—then realized: the smell was coming from *his own kitchen.*

The Valkyrie?

She was in the kitchen?

Wait—could she actually cook?!

Unbelievable. She’s been through hell, climbed out of dungeons, walked into palaces, and now she’s in my kitchen?

He stepped into the cramped little kitchen and froze.

There, beside a big iron pot, sat a bamboo tray piled high with golden-brown, crispy little rolls—each one glistening with grease, looking so crisp you could hear them crackle in your mind.

Then he saw it.

His heart shattered.

The Valkyrie stood over the pot, wielding long chopsticks with practiced ease. She dipped each plump, fat silkworm into a bowl of sweet potato flour, then slammed them straight into the bubbling oil. The aroma exploded—rich, savory, mouthwatering.

“My big fat silkworms!!” Zhu Minglang wailed.

“I’m hungry,” she said coolly. “You don’t have anything else.”

These worms were adorable! How could she eat them?!

He’d spent over a month raising them—each one worth a silver grain. That’s how he’d pay for a bride back in town. These weren’t just worms—they were his future!

“You’re so beautiful, so graceful… but why do you make such delicious fried worms?” he cried, tears welling. “Why are you so cruel?”

She took a bite of a golden roll, wrapped it in a fresh green leaf to cut the grease, chewed slowly—and then wrinkled her nose as if swallowing poison.

“Mmm. Too greasy,” she muttered. “I’ve eaten these before. Not my favorite.”

*Too greasy?!* You just ate one of my precious silkworms and called it greasy? And you made that face like you swallowed a lemon?

They were *perfect!* Crispy, rich, divine!

Still, Zhu Minglang couldn’t resist. He grabbed one, wrapped it in a leaf, and took a bite.

“Don’t worry, little guy,” he whispered, stroking the tiny ice worm clinging to his shoulder. “We’re not eating you. These are big fat silkworms—meant to be eaten.”

“Lately there’s talk,” the Valkyrie said, wiping her hands, “that young dragons love eating big fat silkworms. If a creature that eats them shows up, they say it’s a sign—high chance it’ll transform into a dragon.”

“No wonder prices have skyrocketed,” Zhu Minglang sighed. “I thought it was some noble lady preparing her wedding dress with silk thread. But instead… they’re using our silkworms as meat. Poor things must be furious.”

“If eating silkworms can turn you into a dragon,” she mused, “then thousands of souls sacrificed won’t be wasted.”

“Dragons… are that important?”

“Yes.”

“More than you?”

She looked at him, calm, steady. “I’m not even close.”

This world held a strange magic—any living being, no matter how small, had a chance to become a dragon.

But dragons were rare, majestic, terrifyingly powerful. Out of billions of lives, only a handful ever made it.

Legend said every creature had its own Dragon Gate.

Cross it, and you became a dragon—like the sun and stars blazing in the sky, radiant, untouchable.

To a dragon, beasts and spirits that fought over food and territory were nothing more than stinking fish and eels in a filthy river.

“So if dragons are so strong,” Zhu Minglang asked, “why do people keep fighting each other?”

“Because humans have minds,” she replied. “Becoming a dragon isn’t guaranteed. It takes luck, fate, and unimaginable sacrifice. Some people study the signs—seek out young creatures with dragon potential but missing something. They help them cross the gate.”

“…A Dragonherder?”

“Exactly. Humans can become Dragonherders.”

“Think I’d be any good?” Zhu Minglang perked up, suddenly hopeful.

“You raise silkworms well. Very fat ones.”

He stared at her. Even when she wasn’t lying, she looked stunning.

……

Yongcheng.

It was still early morning—sunrise hadn’t come yet—but the sky was already painted in wild, fiery hues. Crimson clouds burned like real flames, casting their glow across streets and rooftops. Even the darkest alleyways glowed bright as noon.

“Run! Run for your lives!”

“Fire! There’s fire everywhere!”

A scream tore through the air, growing louder as a panicked crowd surged toward the city gates—fleeing like animals chased by a nightmare.

*Boom! Boom! Boom!*

Suddenly, a wave of fire swept sideways across the street, slamming into towering buildings. In seconds, homes collapsed into heaps of rubble, flung into the road like toys.

Clothes-wearing townsfolk were pierced through by flaming debris, their bodies bursting into flame mid-sprint—screams echoing through the chaos.

The toothy-faced guard captain stumbled back in shock, drawing his sword. He thought bandits had broken in—raiders burning and looting.

Then came the roar.

From behind the grand mansions, atop the highest rooftops, a massive head rose—bigger than a house. A long, serpentine body unfurled into the sky, scales glowing like molten gold, spewing streams of searing fire from its jaws.

“*Dragon!*”

The guard captain froze, terror freezing his blood despite the unbearable heat.

A golden fire dragon—roaring above Yongcheng’s streets, raining fire down on the helpless masses.

One snap of its jaw—whole streets turned to ash.

One sweep of its tail—walls, towers, temples, shops—all crumbled into dust.

Homes touched by its fire ignited instantly, reduced to smoldering ruins in less than half a minute.

In thirty seconds, the main street was a wasteland.

Some soldiers stood firm—armored, armed, trained. Unafraid.

But the dragon roared.

Their eardrums burst. They fell to their knees, clutching their heads, screaming in agony—before they could even draw their swords.

One swipe of its claw—soldiers, strong and proud, flattened into bloody pancakes.

Even the warriors couldn’t stand against it.

And the common people? They were already running—scattered, terrified, hopeless.

The city became a sea of fire.

The once-proud military force—so confident, so organized—crumbled too. Soon, armored guards fled alongside civilians, abandoning their posts, fleeing for their lives.