Chapter 28: The Teacher Sent Me to Patrol the Mountain

……

The courtyard was empty now, the clan members having dispersed.

Today’s arrangement had been utterly unexpected. Some pitied Li Yunzhi; others couldn’t hide their glee.

“Honestly, I thought the Lady would just marry her off to some servant or other—put an end to all that scandal and save face for the family. But instead, she’s being sent as a concubine? How tragic,” murmured Mu Qing, her voice dripping with false sorrow.

Yet her cheeks—pale and porcelain-white—seemed to glow with barely suppressed delight.

Li Yunzhi had overshadowed so many talented young women in the clan. Now, it was her turn to fall.

“At least she’ll be a city lord’s concubine. If she plays her cards right, she might end up better off than any of us proper little misses,” someone said.

“She’s certainly not lacking in… flexibility,” another added with a smirk. “After all, she once bent over for a beggar. Who knows what else she can do?”

“Keep your voice down—she’s coming this way,” Li Kongxi warned.

Now, the younger women of the clan flocked around Li Kongxi and Mu Qing like moths to flame.

Li Yunzhi walked alone down the steps, her back straight, her gaze steady. The soft rustle of silk and whispered barbs from the crowd of cooing beauties reached her ears clearly.

She glanced at the girls who’d thrown stones while she was still bleeding—her expression unreadable.

But they flinched anyway, instinctively edging closer to Li Kongxi and Mu Qing.

Who knew what madness might burst from her?

Yet she did nothing dramatic. She turned toward another gate at the far end of the courtyard—not the path leading back to the Li ancestral estate, but one that led straight to the military camp.

Li Kongxi watched her retreating figure and let out a cold snort.

Still, the moment he thought of how far apart their lives were now, his lips curled into a bright, triumphant smile.

…

A stone bridge. A few skeletal willows. Li Yunzhi stood at the edge, watching the silver and red carp below swirl through the water, churning it into a murky mess.

Soon, a towering commander in silver-black armor approached.

Commander Cheng saw her standing there and quickened his pace.

“Yunzhi? You’ve been waiting for me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. Her eyes were clear, sharp—unshaken by the humiliation she’d endured earlier in the hall.

“Your father still lets that little mistress sway him. Since he didn’t object, how can you be handed over to the enemy like this—just to buy a hollow truce? Ah, Yunzhi… I’ll help you escape. Go far away. Find a real man, live a real life. Don’t come back. This clan isn’t worth your sacrifice.”

His voice trembled with pity—and frustration.

Even if she hadn’t come to him, Cheng had already planned to spirit her away.

He was a man of war. He knew full well: marrying Li Yunzhi into the Lingxiao City Ling family meant becoming a prisoner of war—especially since she’d killed so many of their kin on the battlefield.

To go there would be worse than death.

Hearing those words, a faint warmth stirred in Li Yunzhi’s chest.

Someone still cared.

“Uncle Cheng,” she said softly, “I don’t want to run.”

“No running? Then you’ll endure that shame? You’re a woman. You’re still young. This clan doesn’t deserve your entire life for some pitiful peace treaty. Don’t worry about the front lines—I’ll die before I let those beasts cross our borders!”

He sounded almost desperate.

“Uncle Cheng,” she said gently, “do you know why the Wutu rebellion never ends? No matter how many we kill, the unarmed rebels keep charging forward—without fear, without reason?”

Cheng frowned.

What was she thinking? She was barely surviving herself, yet she worried about the stability of the祖龙城邦?

“Wutu is barbaric,” he replied. “Their people haven’t awakened. Our land is fertile, vast—too tempting. They’re driven by greed, egged on by traitors.”

Li Yunzhi shook her head. “The rebels can’t be wiped out. Not by bloodshed.”

“You should worry about yourself, Yunzhi.”

“I won’t run,” she said, calm as still water.

The deeper you sink into mud, the more you struggle, the faster you drown.

Not long ago, she’d been lost—unsure of who her true enemy even was.

Now, she saw them clearly.

They were rising to the surface—grinning, eager, clawing their way up to crush her underfoot.

…

Winter was near.

For a full month,祖龙城邦 hadn’t seen a single drop of rain. Even the famously rich Lichuan Plain—once lush and green—now showed cracks in the earth, parched and thin. Without the nourishment of the three great rivers, it would have turned to dust long ago.

Zhu Minglang remembered when he first arrived here—blue skies, endless fields, golden wheat swaying in the wind.

After spending over a month at the Dragon Taming Academy, the world outside had changed.

Now, the plains were a dull yellow. Leaves lay dead and brittle across the ground. In the distance, the mountains—once a hazy green—had turned a jagged line of silver-white, majestic yet mournful.

“Aaah-choo!”
Li Shaoying wrapped himself tightly in his woolen coat, but the biting wind slicing through the air still made his nose burn red, tears and snot threatening to spill.

Zhu Minglang glanced at him sideways. He had no idea why this guy was even on this field trip.

Then he noticed: Li Shaoying and Nan Ye were riding a fake bird-dragon together.

Ah. That explained it.

All thirteen students sat atop their own flying pseudo-dragons, gripping reins in both hands, high above the earth.

Below them, the desolate plain stretched endlessly—barren, windswept, frozen. The wind cut like knives against their faces and ears. Li Shaoying clearly had never flown before—he didn’t even know how to brace himself.

Thirteen pseudo-dragons carried the students—some already true dragon riders, others like Li Shaoying and Nan Ye still beneath the Dragon Gate.

Two teachers accompanied them. One was Ke Bei, the safety instructor—the same man Zhu Minglang had met days before. The other was Professor Duan Lan, responsible for summoning clouds and rain.

And then there was one more: the teaching assistant.

That was Zhu Minglang.

Duan Lan, Ke Bei, and Zhu Minglang rode together on a giant eagle-beast dragon.

It had the broad back of a lion, the chest and head of a massive eagle. Over five meters long. Sitting on its back felt like lounging on a plush animal-fur recliner—luxury beyond compare.

Truthfully, Zhu Minglang hadn’t expected *him*—the guy who’d just shown up to “help out”—to be chosen as assistant.

“Can the Azure Dragon really control wind and clouds? Feels like it should be the true dragon king,” Li Shaoying mused.

He wore a simple tunic—plain, unadorned, no embroidery, no insignia. Compared to the flashy robes of other dragon riders, he looked painfully poor.

But what could he do? These were his best clothes. If not for the sudden emergence of dragon traits in his ox spirit, he’d still be herding cattle back home.