Chapter 9: Dragon Training Academy

The head of the Li family and the senior housekeeper had departed. Now, only Li Yunzhi, Luo Xiao, and Zhu Mingliang remained in the grand hall adorned with pearwood carvings.

Luo Xiao waited until the Li patriarch was well out of earshot before slowly rising to his feet.

He took a few steps forward, approaching Li Yunzhi.

"Miss Yunzhi," he began, voice trembling slightly, "I failed you—my duty was not fulfilled, and you suffered because of me. But please, don’t let others’ opinions weigh on your heart. After returning to the Li household, I will strive harder than ever to become its pillar. And when the time comes, I’ll do everything in my power to convince your father to give you to me. I… I, Luo Xiao, truly mean every word. I know this may come across as sudden, even impolite—but I’ll prove it through action. Miss Yunzhi… please, just give me time."

His words came out haltingly, nervous, sincere.

Zhu Mingliang stood nearby, mouth agape.

Did he really wear his feelings so openly?!!

Regardless of how twisted Luo Xiao’s mind might be, there was no denying the genuine emotion behind his confession—and he’d chosen the perfect moment. He wasn’t concerned with Yunzhi’s past. He made clear that he saw her not as a tainted woman, but as someone worthy of love and respect.

Li Yunzhi said nothing. Her expression gave nothing away.

"You don’t need to answer right now," Luo Xiao continued gently. "Just know that my loyalty and devotion are unwavering. You’ve been through so much—you must be exhausted. Zhu Mingliang, take Miss Yunzhi back to her chambers to rest. I’ll go report to the master of the house."

He understood she wasn’t ready yet. She needed space. Time.

"Fine," Zhu Mingliang replied flatly. "Best wishes for your bright future, Mr. Luo."

Luo Xiao nodded approvingly. *Not bad,* he thought. *A decent little brother after all.*

With one last lingering glance at Li Yunzhi, he turned and strode purposefully toward the imperial courtyard where the family patriarch resided. From this moment on—he, Luo Xiao—was officially stepping onto the path of ascension!

Power. Wealth. Women. All would be his.

"Chilian," he murmured, a smile spreading across his face, "remember those who once mocked us? Ha! They never imagined we’d return as Golden Fire Dragons and Dragon Riders!"

He ran a finger over the red jade ring on his hand—a ring whose surface shimmered with an eerie glow, revealing, within its depths, the faint silhouette of a dragon coiling slowly into being.

In Wutu, restraint was wisdom.

What he’d gained so far was only the beginning. And Yunzhi? She would be his—inevitably.

After what happened, few people of noble standing would dare to marry her. That meant if he proved himself worthy under the Li patriarch’s command, securing her hand wouldn’t be impossible.

Back then, Luo Xiao had been nothing more than a lowly gate guard—so insignificant, so forgotten.

Now? Everything had changed.

…

Pearwood Hall

Zhu Mingliang walked to the main seat, picked up the handkerchief left behind by the senior housekeeper, and handed it to Li Yunzhi.

"You’re still bleeding," he said. "By the way… was that man back there… your father?"

Li Yunzhi didn’t wipe the wound. Instead, unnoticed by Zhu Mingliang, a single tear slipped down her cheek—silent, slow, like a thread of silver tracing her skin.

She hadn’t expected to break down. Not here. Not now. Not after holding herself together for so long.

Why did she feel so little resistance toward this man?

Beside her, Zhu Mingliang froze, unsure how to comfort her.

If she were crying rivers, it would’ve been easier. But this—just one tear—meant nothing outwardly. No pain. No sorrow. Only a quiet, unshakable resolve.

And that was what broke him.

She was the victim. Yet everyone saw her as the criminal. After traveling thousands of miles to return home, she was met with scorn.

If blood ties could be severed, the Li patriarch would have done it without hesitation.

This was the sanctuary she’d returned to?

"I’ll help you back to your room," Zhu Mingliang said, keeping his tone polite. "Don’t think about it anymore."

"Right this way."

"Okay."

…

At Yunzhi’s courtyard, Zhu Mingliang was politely but firmly turned away.

He understood. His presence offered no solace. In fact, he was part of the reason she’d suffered.

In a world built on hierarchy and status, if she wanted to kill him to ease her pain, he wouldn’t blame her.

But where should he go now?

He’d been dragged here—into Zulong City-State—out of nowhere.

No identity. No land. No home. No money. Was he supposed to beg on the streets again?

Wait—why did he say “again”?

He’d never begged before!

Yunzhi hadn’t blamed him. But she likely didn’t want to see him either.

Truth be told, she’d actually saved his life by bringing him here. Luo Xiao had planned to destroy Little Sang Town entirely.

*If you’re here, make the best of it.* Find work. Earn a living. Preferably somewhere with mulberry trees—Little White Qǐ would wake up hungry and start fussing otherwise.

White Qǐ—the name of the tiny ice worm.

Speaking of White Qǐ—it had been days since it surfaced for air. Rarely seen, it had lain quietly inside Zhu Mingliang’s spiritual realm, preparing for hibernation?

Zhu Mingliang closed his eyes, checking his inner domain.

“Huh… what’s this?”

Inside, something unexpected had appeared—an ice cocoon.

Peering deeper, he gasped.

The tiny ice worm had wrapped itself in its own frost silk, forming a massive, crystalline chrysalis.

Was it transforming?

But White Qǐ had once been a Sky Dragon General—no known creature of such lineage could undergo metamorphosis like this.

The cocoon wasn’t fully sealed yet. A small opening remained at the top.

Through it, Zhu Mingliang glimpsed the world within.

And he was stunned.

The interior was breathtaking.

The outer layers of frost silk wove together with astonishing precision—no chaos, no mess. It formed a masterpiece of order emerging from disorder.

And scattered throughout this icy web were countless ice gems—each glowing like rare white diamonds, or stars scattered across a vast night sky. Perfectly arranged, harmonious, dreamlike.

Even a single strand of frost silk bore ancient, intricate patterns etched along its length.

Inside each ice gem, it felt as though an entire universe had been contained.

All of it converged around a single, radiant spirit—the small, fragile form of White Qǐ, now sprouting delicate wings, its body taking on a graceful, elegant shape, its tail slender and refined.

At the core of the cocoon, White Qǐ drifted in a drowsy slumber. Its half-formed wings stretched gently, and its large, luminous eyes—still wide with effort—gazed at Zhu Mingliang, who had entered its realm.

But the little creature was too tired.

It finally lowered its eyelids.

Then—movement.

The frost threads began to dance. The ice gems lit up like fireflies. As White Qǐ sank deeper into sleep, the world inside the cocoon erupted into motion: a tiny shoot breaking through ice, microscopic flowers blooming, a tree of life unfurling its canopy to shade the heavens. Life, minute and miraculous, was being born.

It felt like creation itself—like the dawn of worlds, like the shifting of continents.

And then, the hole at the top filled from within, sealed shut. The cocoon became whole.

From outside, it looked ordinary—just a frozen lump.

But inside… a cosmos. A world of endless wonder.

And in the center, sleeping like a queen beneath a sea of frost and starlight—White Qǐ.

Who—or what—was it really?

This was probably Zhu Mingliang’s fifth year wandering.

White Qǐ had once been a Sky Dragon.

When Zhu Mingliang was still a boy, he was a prodigy—admired, celebrated, destined for greatness.

But then, overnight—everything shattered.

He still remembered the white frost threads that wrapped half the city.

The giant ice cocoon encasing the Sky Dragon White Qǐ, blanketing the entire town in a sacred, blinding whiteness—as if a divine frost spirit had descended.

That image lasted an entire night.

But by morning, the frost melted under the sun.

The dragon’s body lay lifeless, reduced to water along with the silk. Only one thing remained—a tiny, nearly mindless ice worm, crawling slowly from the wreckage.

Zhu Mingliang stood atop the frozen city, staring at the creature.

A boy couldn’t believe it.

The Sky Dragon—gone.

His own glory vanished. He became just another nameless soul in the crowd, beginning a long, aimless journey.

Years passed. Boyhood faded into youth. Ambition wore thin. Survival became routine.

He’d wandered through countless lands—too many to count.

But White Qǐ? Always by his side. Caretaker and companion. A bond so deep, it felt like family.

For years, White Qǐ stayed unchanged—small, fragile, silent.

Until now.

Just a glimpse earlier—Zhu Mingliang had seen it: wings forming, body shaping, tail refining. A blend of delicate grace and ancient power.

It carried the elegance of a mythical butterfly-dragon. And yet, echoes of the mighty Sky Dragon remained.

There was no doubt.

This was transformation.

The cocoon was its dragon gate.

Break free—and it would reclaim its throne.

And suddenly, something stirred deep within Zhu Mingliang.

His heart—long cold, numb, dead—began to burn.

The Sky Dragon was returning.

After everything he’d endured, anyone with a broken spirit would crave hope. But fear held them back—because they couldn’t see their own future.

Now? That was different.

White Qǐ was coming back.

And with it—his destiny.