Chapter 12: The Blooming Dragon

“Ruuu-ruuuu~~~~~~”

Suddenly, a feeding trough snapped open, spilling a chaotic mix of food inside. Hearing the sound, the playful little spirits nearby scattered like startled sparrows, paws scrambling toward the trough.

Dinner’s here!

The bigger, older ones—those born earlier and stronger—claimed the prime spots without hesitation, stuffing their bellies until they waddled around like overstuffed bales. The smaller, weaker ones circled anxiously, jostling for space. One lucky push, and they’d finally squeeze in—only to be shoved out after two bites.

Zhu Minglang glanced at the trough’s contents: leafy greens, chunks of chicken, fruit, meatworms, big bones… Honestly, it was richer than what most common folk in Wutu got on a good day.

“Meat silkworms?”

Then he spotted something familiar—his own massive, plump silkworms, raised over the years. Oddly, almost every other spirit ignored them completely—even birds showed no interest.

After the frenzy, only rotten scraps and a few neglected meat silkworms remained. That’s when Zhu noticed a small, jet-black crocodile spirit, eyes sharp with suspicion. It sidestepped three sturdy little wolf spirits, snatched a fat silkworm in its jaws, and bolted.

The wolves saw it instantly—and gave chase, snapping and tearing at the tiny croc.

Still too young to fight back, the black croc darted through the dirt with surprising agility, shaking off three of them. But the fourth—a full-grown puppy-sized wolf—cornered it right at its den. Before it could even swallow the silkworm, the wolf pounced, pinning it down.

“Even here? Bullying?” Zhu shook his head, grabbed one of the wolf spirits by the scruff, and tossed it aside like trash.

The black croc scrambled free, lunging straight for the silkworm now smeared in mud. No hesitation. No judgment. It devoured it in three quick chomps.

“You wanna stick with me, little guy? Whether you turn into a dragon or not—I can’t promise that. But I *can* promise you endless meat silkworms. I’m a professional silkworm farmer,” Zhu said, scooping up the muddy little croc.

Up close, it was oddly adorable—big, clumsy head, thick little body, not quite ugly, more like “endearing in a rugged way.” Its skin was smooth, unlike most fierce crocs, which looked like they’d been dipped in goosebumps.

“Here,” Zhu said, pulling another untouched silkworm from the trough. “One more. Deal’s sealed.”

The croc didn’t waste a second—it tore into it like a starving animal.

Zhu tried offering chicken next. Nothing. Not even a sniff. The croc only cared about meat silkworms.

That reminded him of what the Valkyrie had once said: some true dragon hatchlings were obsessed with meat silkworms during infancy.

But then he noticed something—on the croc’s forehead, a tiny bump. He touched it. Hard. Bone-like.

An unformed horn.

Horns? Crocs don’t have horns. Only dragons do.

Well… then you’re *definitely* one of them.

A little ugly. A little dark. Doesn’t matter. You’re not here to charm anyone or perform tricks.

Just need you to be tough. Strong. Ready to fight.

The cold aristocrat was already growing impatient.

Li Shaoying glanced at Zhu’s new spirit, puzzled. The nobleman didn’t even glance over. He wouldn’t deign to choose a spirit here.

…

With the soul bond sealed, the black croc was officially Zhu Minglang’s spirit companion.

Next came housing. The aristocrat clearly wasn’t joining their group—he had his own private compound.

Zhu and Li were assigned to a large courtyard complex: a shared training ground, twelve wooden cottages lined up neatly, clean and comfortable. Behind them, a separate zone for spirits too wild or strange to be absorbed into the spirit realm. Students customized these spaces based on their spirits’ needs.

Since this croc was semi-aquatic, Zhu dug a small pond surrounded by soft, clean mud. If he was adopting it, he’d make sure it had everything it needed.

Everything set, Zhu was surprised to find that meals were already prepared—three times a day, ready to eat in the dining hall. And if students had money, they could spend freely in Fengdi Town.

He laid out his bedding, night deepening. After a long hot bath, his body felt light, refreshed—tiredness washing over him like a wave.

He collapsed into bed, exhausted. His mind, finally free of the weight it had carried for so long, sank into a dreamless, deep sleep. In his dreams, he wandered back through the old dungeon—same stone walls, same silence.

…

Morning light filtered softly through the window. Outside, voices rose sharply—harsh commands echoing across the yard.

Some eager boys were already training their spirits, pushing them to evolve into dragons as fast as possible.

Xiaobai Qi would probably take a few more days. Zhu savored the rare peace, but the sounds of morning drills stirred something in him—memories of his own youth, of ambition, of fire.

Maybe… it was time to get serious again.

“Woo-wooo! Ooo-ah!”

From behind the house, the pond echoed with the croc’s high-pitched cries.

Zhu snapped back to the present. Time to check on his new little friend.

“You want to train too? Yeah, you’re still weak. How about a swim in the pond first?” he said, crouching down.

He held out his hand, palm flat on the sand. The croc climbed up his fingers with practiced ease, then hopped gently onto his shoulder, settling there like a living backpack.

As Zhu stepped outside, the croc’s round, wide eyes scanned everything—the people, the trees, the yard, the other spirits.

Three parts curiosity. Seven parts caution.

“You’re growing,” Zhu said, opening a box. He picked out a fresh, plump meat silkworm with a bamboo skewer. “You’ve gained weight already—just one day!”

The croc swallowed it whole, no chewing.

Stepping out, Zhu immediately noticed a group of young men and teens gathered nearby, whispering intensely. Probably classmates.

“She’s breathtaking in person—like a goddess from heaven. What kind of cruel fate is this? Why would the gods treat her like this?” one said.

“Wait… heard she was an old beggar?”

“No way. I heard she was just a young wanderer.”

“Ugh, you know nothing. In a place like Wutu, where order means nothing, someone like her—so beautiful, so pure—would be a temptation to anyone. Think about it—if you were the jailer guarding her, wouldn’t you lose control too?”

“Stop! Please stop! She’s my sun and moon! Don’t talk about her like that!”

“Nobody’s holding you back. Why do you look so excited? I swear, your drool’s dripping.”

Inside the dormitory, the conversation raged early in the morning—already a scandal spreading through the entire academy.

Zhu walked past them, frowning.

How did it get so twisted?