Chapter 18: Clash of the Dragons

**Chapter 17: Ice-Crimson White Dragon?**

**Li Family Imperial Courtyard**

A long, supple scale-armor robe hung loosely over his shoulders. Pale hair fell like mist on either side of his face. Luo Xiao stood on the arched bridge between the Imperial Mansion and the Military Academy, his gaze drifting unconsciously toward the layered pavilions, winding gardens that twisted through silence and shadow.

He’d always found himself here—back when he was just a servant, sneaking past these towers to catch a glimpse of the autumn nan trees beyond, and the silver-tinted roofline of a small, elegant villa nestled among them.

He’d thought becoming one of the hundred commanders in the Li Clan would finally give him a chance to be near Li Yunzhi. But after that day—when he’d confessed his feelings—she hadn’t shown her face again.

“Captain Luo,” said Lady Kong Tong, the family’s junior mistress, her voice smooth as silk, “we all understand your heart. It’s not that we’re unwilling to let you see her. But Yunzhi has been under house arrest by her father. This matter touches the honor of our entire clan. The master doesn’t want any more talk—especially not about that… *unseemly incident*.”

Luo Xiao bowed slightly, then spoke carefully. “I have a suggestion, Madam. If the head of the household could arrange for Miss Li’s marriage, and if we spent a little coin to spread rumors that some outsider from another city deliberately slandered the Li family—blamed it on foreign intrigue—then no matter whether people believed it or not, the scandal would fade fast.”

Lady Kong smiled faintly at the man before her, eyes glinting with approval. “A clever idea. I’ll bring it to the master’s attention. He’ll consider arranging a match soon.”

“Thank you, Madam!” Luo Xiao’s voice cracked with surprise and hope. If she agreed, the odds were suddenly in his favor.

She handed him a scroll sealed with red wax. “This is your official commission. The Nine Cities of Wutu have risen in rebellion, trying to seize our Eastern Xiu Fortress. Our army’s already deployed. You leave tomorrow. Let the rabble of Wutu learn what true power looks like. They claim heaven is unfair—gave them barren soil? Then let them know who *really* holds the sky.”

Luo Xiao took the scroll with both hands, reverence in every motion. He had long harbored resentment toward the Wutu outcasts. And this mission? Perfect. Brutality was the fastest way to break rebels. Fear would ripple across the wastelands like wildfire. Other cities would cower in dread for years, too afraid to stir.

“Unlike your previous minor victories,” Kong Tong added, “this one will raise your name throughout the city. You’ll be remembered.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Madam. Or the master,” Luo Xiao vowed.

“Oh—there’s something else I wanted to ask…” She paused, as if remembering something.

Luo Xiao stopped mid-step, turned, and bowed again, waiting.

“The man who returned with you… do you know him?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Never mind. Forget it.”

Luo Xiao frowned. “Zhu Minglang? Isn’t he from our clan?”

“No record of him in the family register,” Kong Tong said coolly. “Who told you he was one of us?”

“Miss Li Yunzhi,” Luo Xiao replied, eyes narrowing as he weighed the words.

“Enough,” she said. “Go to Eastern Xiu now. We’ll discuss this later. I need to verify his identity. If Yunzhi was framed, there may be enemies close to her.”

Luo Xiao bowed once more, then turned to leave. His expression darkened as he walked away.

If Zhu Minglang wasn’t truly part of the Li family… why would Yunzhi lie?

---

**Dragon Taming Academy**

Inside the dormitory, Zhu Minglang nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw it—the cocoon had split.

*It was alive.*

Gently, he pulled the drowsy little creature from his spiritual domain. His heart pounded as he cradled the newborn dragon in his arms, eager to see its form.

“Wait… not an Azure Dragon?” he whispered, stunned.

The creature—once a pure-blooded Ice-Azure Dragon—was different now.

It still carried traces of its old self: sleek, icy scales, a long body, a slender tail like a waterfall serpent. No wings. But now… *wings*. Massive, feathered wings, folded tightly against its back.

He remembered the delicate, butterfly-like membranes inside the ice cocoon. Now they’d grown into powerful, broad wings, each feather tipped with fine, crystalline frost. The wing bones were segmented—flexible as fingers—allowing it to fold backward like a moth, or snap open with explosive force. It could dart through the air like a storm, weave through danger, or tuck itself close like a graceful swan.

Yet it still bore the essence of the ancient dragon: serpentine neck and torso, feline limbs with sharp claws. No hard scales—just soft, silken silver fur covering its body, gleaming like polished silk all the way to its tail.

And its tail—long, flowing, like a girl’s braid down to the tip. Was it naturally shaped that way? Or had the ice clinging to it simply grown outward?

Zhu Minglang studied it closely, feeding it honey with gentle care.

What fascinated him most? The tail. As the little dragon sucked hungrily at the spoon, the white braid slowly curled upward—like a question mark. Then, suddenly, snapped straight down. Silence. Stillness. For minutes, nothing.

Overall, it was less fierce than before. More elegant. Every feather, every frost-laced scale, every inch of skin radiated a quiet, otherworldly beauty.

“What kind of dragon are you?” Zhu Minglang murmured. “White-winged Yinglong? But there’s something… older. Something deeper. Could it be… *Ice-Crimson White Dragon*?”

The shape resembled the Yinglong—mythical, celestial—but the frost-feathers matched those of the Ice-Dragon lineage. And only one legend came to mind: the Ice-Crimson White Dragon, said to dwell in the frozen heavens, where sky and ice meet in endless silence.

“Yip-yip-yip~”
The tiny dragon chirped—soft, high-pitched, almost like a baby’s whimper. Was it hungry? Or just born with that sweet, innocent voice?

Zhu Minglang had prepared plenty of honey—rich, fragrant, golden as sunlight.

The little dragon stared at him first, then at the spoon. Its eyes sparkled with delight.

“More, little one. Grow strong,” Zhu Minglang coaxed.

It leaned forward, its tiny head covered in soft white fluff, and began lapping at the honey like a kitten. Slow, tender, careful.

Finally, full and content, it didn’t go back into the ice cocoon.

Instead, it climbed slowly into Zhu Minglang’s arms, wrapping its long tail around its body, folding its wings tightly over itself like a blanket. Then, with a sigh, it nestled deep into his chest—peaceful, warm, utterly trusting.

Within moments, soft breathing filled the room. The dragon slept soundly, curled like a dream.

Zhu Minglang couldn’t help but smile. He felt less like a dragon trainer and more like a man who’d adopted a clingy, fluffy kitten. A real dragon. But one that loved cuddles.

Of course, he knew the truth: breaking the cocoon meant rebirth. The dragon had returned to infancy.

Most dragons grew slowly. True giants lived for thousands of years. From hatchling to maturity could take generations of humans.

That’s where a dragon rider’s role became vital.

First, a human’s spiritual domain acted like a greenhouse—accelerating growth even while the dragon slept. Second, this growth didn’t cost a single year of life. Feed it special foods, gift it rare spirit fruits, and even the weakest hatchlings could leap past their vulnerable stage in weeks.

This Ice-Crimson White Dragon was young—still fragile. But sleep more, eat more honey, and it would change daily. In less than a month, it would be ready for battle.

“Damn it—I forgot today’s monthly class!” Zhu Minglang groaned, realizing too late.

The academy ran on loose rules. Morning lectures were optional. Students came and went as they pleased. Free access to training grounds, meditation halls, even healing herbs.

But things like selecting new hatchlings from the Dragon Vault, or getting healing potions or rare food? That required earned credits.

Credits were rarer than gold. The academy’s Grand Storehouse held legendary treasures—some said even dragon eggs. Hatch them, and you’d get a true dragon.

Zhu Minglang hadn’t visited the Grand Storehouse yet. Not because he didn’t want to. But because he’d spent his meager credits on food and money. Why waste time staring at treasure you couldn’t afford?

Morning classes cost one credit. But the monthly grand lecture? Free. Attendance was mandatory. Skip it, and you lost points.

Time to go.

Zhu Minglang adjusted his robes, smoothed his hair. The big class promised rich content—and he’d never seen anyone outside his dorm. Especially the girls. What did they look like? Were they as dazzling as the legends claimed?