Chapter 17: Icechien's White Dragon?

Knowing the patterns of the斑懒 fish demons, and with Little Croc’s power skyrocketing, wiping them out was now just a matter of time.

Break their formation first, then strike hard—pick them off one by one. The once-smart fish swarm turned into panicked, mindless flounders. After that, it was pure chase and slaughter. After all, the斑蓝 fish demons were no match for a crocodile dragon like Little Croc.

The student assignment was complete. Zhong Minglang received his golden grain.

To reward Little Croc, Zhong Minglang decided to head to Fengdi Town himself, planning to buy fresh, high-quality silk worms from the local sericulturist. He’d also pick up some fresh flower honey—just in case Xiao Baiqi’s ice cocoon was about to hatch. It couldn’t be more than a few days away now.

“Hey,” said the peach vendor at the bridge, her skin the color of dark wheat, “you’ve been gone a whole month since you crawled out of the lake. What happened?”

Zhong Minglang looked at her, his smile widening. “You still owe me a basket of peaches, kid.”

She blinked, then glanced down at the badge on his chest—sure enough, the emblem of the Dragon Taming Academy.

“You’re really a student from the academy? Where’s your dragon?” she asked.

“Never mind that. I want the freshest, biggest, juiciest peaches you’ve got,” Zhong Minglang said, his mood suddenly light. All the old grudges melted away in an instant.

“Alright, alright—you win. We’ve got plenty. When I’m done selling today, come on over and take what you need,” she said, surprisingly generous.

“Deal. Oh, by the way—where can I find good silkworms? And any place selling top-tier flower honey?”

“My house,” she said without hesitation.

Zhong Minglang stared. “Wait… you sell peaches, right?”

“Why can’t farmers be a family business? My parents grow and sell peaches. My third brother raises silkworms. My seventh uncle collects honey. In Fengdi Town, there’s nothing our family doesn’t sell!” She said it with pride.

“Fine, fine. If your goods are good, I’ll make all my future purchases from you,” Zhong Minglang said.

“Just so you know—we don’t do credit,” she added.

Zhong Minglang frowned. Was he really that look like a deadbeat? “Cash only. Up front.”

After finalizing the price, Zhong Minglang exhaled deeply.

Finally, the first meals for both little ones secured!

“Little brother,” the peach girl said, voice suddenly soft, “you must be really short on cash, haggling over such a small amount. You know that riverboat inn over there? They’ve got not just beautiful women—but men too. If you’re truly desperate, maybe you should give it a try. You’re not bad-looking. You’d probably charm those lonely, widowed matrons. Don’t end up broke again like last time we met.”

“…???” Zhong Minglang clutched his chest, wincing.

Another defeat.
Utterly crushing.

It hurt.

“Nian Nian, did you save any honey peaches for Auntie?” A gentle, melodic voice came from behind.

Just hearing it sent a shiver through him—like a warm breeze brushing across the soul. Instantly, he could picture every detail of the woman behind it: grace, elegance, beauty beyond words.

“Of course! Of course!” The peach girl’s tone shifted instantly—sweet as syrup. She pulled out a neatly wrapped bag of large, glistening honey peaches, her cheeks glowing. “You’re so beautiful, Sister. Even as a girl, seeing you makes my heart race!”

Zhong Minglang’s eyes nearly popped out. The same girl who’d just been sharp-tongued and sarcastic now sounded like a sugar-coated angel?

“Actually,” the woman replied, her voice poised yet laced with quiet allure, “I prefer girls who are soft and sweet.”

And that voice—there was something hauntingly familiar about it.

Curiosity burned through him. He turned.

One glance—and his entire body went electric.

He’d imagined a beauty before, but this? This was beyond imagination. Her face—ethereal, luminous—was like starlight given form. For a moment, Zhong Minglang forgot how to breathe, staring at her in stunned silence.

She noticed his gaze, smiled faintly—just a polite, graceful curve of the lips, the kind taught in noble households. Then she returned to chatting with Nian Nian.

“Did you come here just to see me?” Zhong Minglang tried to sound casual, though his pulse betrayed him.

Li Yunzi.

The woman standing before him was unmistakably Li Yunzi.

Her galaxy-strewn eyes. Her plump, honey-peach lips. He’d spent an entire night beside her—he’d never forget her. Even if her outfit today was completely different—dressed like a refined lady of high birth—her unique, breathtaking beauty was unforgettable.

“Do we know each other?” she asked, her gaze returning to his face, voice cool, neutral.

“Uh…” Zhong Minglang froze, caught off guard.

Was she pretending not to remember? Did she want to erase everything? Become strangers?

“Little brother,” Nian Nian chimed in, switching effortlessly between venom and sweetness, “your pickup lines aren’t even as smooth as a toad’s croak. Your poor brain must be broken—she’s so magnetic, even someone clearly unstable can’t resist.” She giggled.

“Alright, alright,” the woman laughed softly, lifting the bag of peaches. “I’m heading back to the academy.” She turned and walked toward the White Rock Bridge, her steps steady, her silhouette fading into the sunlight.

Zhong Minglang watched her go, confusion clouding his face.

“Who was that?” he turned to Nian Nian.

“Nan Lingsha,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you *really* from the Dragon Taming Academy? You’ve never heard of Nan Lingsha? She’s one of the most famous beauties in the region.”

“I’m self-taught,” Zhong Minglang admitted. “So… Nan Lingsha? Is she from the Li River Dragon Academy?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Nian Nian warned. “She’s the eldest daughter of the Nan family—royal blood, like a phoenix. Focus on surviving, not dreaming. Plenty of students in the academy go mad because their spirit beasts never evolve. Just because you’re in the academy doesn’t mean you’ve made it.”

“Nan family?” Zhong Minglang muttered, baffled.

Even though the woman’s aura and expression had been subtly different—softer, more delicate—the face… it was *her*. No doubt.

Nan Lingsha…

That name… hadn’t his father mentioned it once? From the Li family?

Sisters?

But no sisters looked *this* alike.

Zhong Minglang shook his head.

Probably just a dream. A daydream under the golden sun. His mind playing tricks—mistaking one face for another.