Chapter 24: I'm Here to Kill You

The waterfall dragon curled its tail gently around Little Croc, lifting it with care and placing it softly before Zhu Minglang.

In stark contrast to how it had handled the暴鲶, the waterfall dragon treated Little Croc with astonishing tenderness.

"Woo-ooohhh~" Little Croc whimpered upon seeing Zhu Minglang, its eyes wide with委屈—like a tiny creature who’d just been scolded by the universe itself.

Zhu Minglang sat cross-legged before its massive head, and slowly, a smile spread across his face.

"Little Black Teeth," he said, pointing toward the dragon, "look—even *it* respects you. You did great."

Little Croc was battered, scarred, but still managed to lift its head. It saw the dragon’s neck and proud skull standing tall beside it, most of its body submerged in the deep, shadowy pool below.

A thought flickered through its mind: *If I want to become as powerful as this Azure River Dragon… how can I just lie here whining?*

With a grunt, it dragged itself up again—chin high, eyes defiant. *I’m not giving up that easily.*

It wanted to say: *We fought that暴鲶 together.*

"Teacher Duan Lan…" Zhu Minglang started to leave, but then froze.

There she stood—on a large stone, facing the cliff where the暴鲶 had shattered into dust.

Mist drifted like ghostly breath from the falls, soft and hazy. In the damp air, Duan Lan—the dragon’s daughter—seemed even more ethereal, her silhouette dancing between water and light. Even the thunderous roar of the waterfall couldn’t drown out her quiet, otherworldly grace.

She raised one hand, as if plucking something invisible from the air.

For several long minutes, she stood motionless—then finally, she closed her fingers around something unseen.

Slowly, she turned and walked toward Zhu Minglang and the wounded Little Croc.

"This暴鲶 had nearly two hundred years of cultivation. A cunning beast, hiding here all along. This is its soul pearl. Consider it payment for your little crocodile’s healing. It should accelerate its transformation into a true dragon." Duan Lan handed Zhu Minglang a small, murky crimson bead—no bigger than a thumb.

She was channeling her spiritual energy to stabilize it, preventing it from dissolving.

*This is priceless!*

Zhu Minglang hadn’t expected such generosity—especially not at the cost of so much spiritual energy. She’d literally *harvested a soul* just for him.

Being Duan Lan’s student? Absolutely heaven on earth.

He took the pearl without hesitation and fed it straight to Little Croc.

Beyond raising and training dragons, one of the most powerful skills a Dragon Tamer possessed was *soul gathering and pearl crafting*.

Creatures like the暴鲶—ancient, deep-dwelling monsters—had souls far beyond ordinary spirits. Even after death, their essence remained potent.

With focused spiritual power, a Dragon Tamer could capture that lingering soul, cleanse it of rage and cruelty, and transform it into a pure, nourishing spirit pearl—perfect for young dragons’ growth.

Generally, the older the spirit, the better the pearl. Two centuries? Not guaranteed, but Little Croc would gain *massive* progress—enough to leapfrog past most younglings.

After consuming this pearl, Little Croc wouldn’t just grow—it would *evolve*. The Dragon Gate wasn’t far now…

And with a jar of Frost Blossom Honey from Duan Lan, both dragon pups were set for weeks. No more sleepless nights guarding them. No more frantic hunting.

Finally, peace.

Zhu Minglang sank into a deep, dreamless sleep—ready to wait, patiently, for Bai Qi and Little Black Teeth to grow.

Inside his spiritual domain, time moved differently. For dragons, a year there equaled ten outside. And as Zhu Minglang grew stronger, that multiplier only increased.

If Little Black Teeth had already transformed into a dragon, he could’ve slept through the whole thing and still outpaced every other student’s hatchling.

But alas—he hadn’t.

---

The greatest strength of the Dragon Taming Academy? Its vast library—filled with records of countless dragon species.

To understand Bai Qi’s development, Zhu Minglang spent hours in the archives, searching for details on the Icechime White Dragon.

The reading hall was serene—floors polished to mirror shine, wooden shelves dust-free, sunlight streaming through wide wicker windows like golden velvet.

Cold autumn sun, rare and warm, draped over Zhu Minglang like a blanket.

Books. A glass of water. The academy’s luxury was staggering—even public spaces felt like sanctuaries. A world away from the war-torn, starving wasteland of Wu Tu.

"Both Silver Moon Ying Dragons and Starwind Ice Dragons take about a year and a half to mature," Zhu Minglang mused, flipping between two volumes. "They’re not slow-growing dragons—quite the opposite. Fast bloomers."

"So if Bai Qi carries both bloodlines… he should reach maturity in just eighteen months."

Records on the Icechime White Dragon were scarce. But Zhu Minglang could infer from its dual heritage.

"With the spiritual domain nurturing him, maybe just over a month?"

"Feed him enough Frost Blossom Honey—could cut it down to four weeks."

"But if it’s *pure* Frost Blossom Honey? Twenty days. And his ice feathers and magic will be stronger than ever."

Frost Blossom Honey sold for five gold grains per jar—five times the price of regular honey. And supply? Almost nonexistent.

"Speaking of which…" Zhu Minglang frowned. "Little Black Teeth ate the soul pearl—now his appetite’s gone wild. The big silkworms we prepared are already gone…"

He tapped his fingers against his temple, sinking into the deepest philosophical crisis of his life: *How do I make money?*

Out of habit, he grabbed another book—*Wealth Through Wisdom*.

Then he stopped cold.

The page read: *"Dragon nests are usually piled high with gold and jewels. Raiding one? The fastest way to get rich."*

He slammed the book shut.

Nope. Too risky. Too illegal.

Back to research. He needed more info on Little Black Teeth. Duan Lan had stressed his potential. He owed it to the little guy to plan ahead.

He wandered down the endless corridor of books, sunlight slicing diagonally across the room from the west, cutting through rows and layers of shelves like golden ribbons.

Between the beams of light, a graceful woman strolled—barely paying attention, her gaze drifting like wind through leaves.

Her eyes—brighter than the sun itself—held no urgency, no focus. Just quiet beauty.

She passed a shelf, fingers brushing old spines, pausing briefly… then moving on. No book caught her eye.

Maybe today, she didn’t feel like reading.

Zhu Minglang stood at the intersection of the halls, unable to look away.

He forgot it was rude. Forgot he was supposed to be searching.

*No way…*

*Nan Lingsha?*

*Or… Li Yunzi?*

Last time, he’d thought he was hallucinating—how could he mistake someone else for Li Yunzi?

But now… he was certain.

It *was* her.

Today, she seemed softer—less icy, more refined. Like a scholar wrapped in moonlight.

"Nice to see you again," Zhu Minglang said, as she approached.

"Do you really think it’s coincidence?" she asked, her voice calm, her eyes fixed on the bookshelf—but her words clearly meant for him.

"Yunzi?" A spark lit in Zhu Minglang’s chest.

Yes. It *was* her.