Chapter 34: The Bloodbath at the Deep Pool

“Yooouuuu~!”

At that moment, the Ice-Chen White Dragon let out a long, echoing cry, unfurling its magnificent primary wings like a mythical phoenix forged from frost and winter’s breath.

A wave of frigid energy burst forth from its snowy plumage—swift as a storm, sweeping across the ruined forest. The cold water still steaming from the ground froze before the eye could blink, crystallizing into thick, unyielding ice.

*Crack… crack… crack…*

Trees locked in ice. Rocks sealed shut. A blinding white shroud of frost overwhelmed the scorching heat of the Golden Fire Dragon, freezing the serpentine tendrils coiling around it into rigid, icy rings.

The ice cuffs were ironclad—unbreakable. They held the Golden Fire Dragon fast, pinning it to the earth, unable to rise.

Teacher Duan Lan glanced at Zhu Minglang. For the first time, a flicker of hope crossed her face.

Ko Bei saw his chance. He stepped back sharply, raised his left hand palm-down toward the ground, and activated his spirit domain.

On his palm, the domain sigil bloomed into view, casting its image onto the muddy soil below. The earth trembled. Dirt surged upward. Stones flew. What Ko Bei was summoning—a mud dragon—wasn’t as powerful as the Eagle Beast Dragon, but its thick, armored body could endure several full-force strikes from the Golden Fire Dragon.

But this wasn’t just any summoning. It had been a surprise attack. No time to prepare. If not for the Ice-Chen White Dragon and the Azure River Dragon holding down the Golden Fire Dragon, Ko Bei wouldn’t have dared open the imprint at all. Summoning demanded focus—and even a second’s delay could cost you your life.

“Ko Bei, watch out!” Zhu Minglang suddenly shouted.

Ko Bei was nearly finished with the summoning—but then he felt it: a chill crawling up his spine, like a blade being drawn across the back of his neck.

He turned.

A claw.

Sharp. Unnatural. No fingers—just one seamless, jagged blade, like a butcher’s cleaver, slashing straight toward him.

Zhu Minglang saw it too. But he had no other dragon companions. If only the Great Crocodile Spirit were here—he might’ve bought Ko Bei a few precious seconds…

*Shwaaap!*

The scythe-claw tore through Ko Bei’s chest. Blood sprayed.

Ko Bei tumbled to the ground, writhing. But the Scythe-Claw Dragon didn’t stop. It lunged forward, driving its other claw deep into his abdomen. Then, with cruel mockery, it lifted him high—like a trophy caught in the jaws of a predator.

This beast was pure Ro Xiao. Its nature was violence. Bloodlust. And it had been waiting—hidden, silent—just beyond sight, biding its time.

“Run… run…” Ko Bei hung there, not dead yet. His eyes, bloodshot and wide, locked onto Zhu Minglang. He strained to whisper the word.

“Everyone dies.”

Ro Xiao roared again. This time, the target was Zhu Minglang.

Ro Xiao was a madman soaked in blood—but his mind was razor-sharp.

He knew perfectly well that among the three, Ko Bei was the strongest. That was why he’d killed him first—from above, with precision. Every move—the timing, the order—had been calculated.

Even the Ice-Chen White Dragon, which had threatened his life, hadn’t prompted Ro Xiao to reveal the Scythe-Claw Dragon earlier. He’d saved it. Reserved it. For the final blow.

“Yooouuuu…”

The White Qi Dragon sensed the threat. With a sweep of its wings, it sent a gust of wind slicing toward Zhu Minglang. Feathers beneath its wings scattered into the air—transforming mid-flight into sharp, needle-like ice shards.

Hundreds of them. A storm of frozen daggers.

The Scythe-Claw Dragon, weaker than the Golden Fire Dragon and built for stealth, was caught off guard. White Qi, now in its growth phase, was no slouch—its power matched many lower-tier Dragon Generals. The ice storm blanketed every possible path, sealing off the beast’s attacks.

It had planned to kill both Ko Bei and Zhu Minglang in one strike—but now it had no choice but to retreat.

Dodging the barrage, it tried to flee. But not fast enough. A few ice needles pierced its back.

It howled in pain, scrambling into the dense woods, vanishing into shadow.

If only more had struck—those ice shards would’ve frozen its muscles solid, locking its legs stiff, turning its escape into a stumble.

“White Qi, go!” Zhu Minglang snapped, eyes already on the Golden Fire Dragon, struggling free from its icy shackles.

The Ice-Chen White Dragon glided low, swooping toward him.

Zhu Minglang grabbed its claw, leapt up—then soared into the sky.

“Teacher Duan Lan, don’t linger!” he called.

Duan Lan was still stunned by Ko Bei’s death. Only when Zhu Minglang and the Ice-Chen White Dragon shot past did she finally reach out, grabbing his dangling hand.

*Gurgle… gurgle…*

The Scythe-Claw Dragon wasn’t letting them escape so easily.

With unnatural speed, it scaled a towering tree, leapt from the canopy—and transformed mid-air. Its claws split open like bone-shears, slashing two icy arcs through the air, aiming to cleave Zhu Minglang and Duan Lan hanging beneath the dragon.

“Grrraaahhh!”

Just in time, the Azure River Dragon appeared. Its tail whipped up from the forest floor, slamming into the Scythe-Claw Dragon like a battering ram, sending it flying.

The beast crashed into a pile of rocks, screaming, limbs twisted, bleeding.

“Teacher Duan Lan—recall the Azure River Dragon! Now!” Zhu Minglang yelled.

If they lost distance, the dragon would be trapped on the battlefield. They couldn’t afford to stop. Once the Golden Fire Dragon broke free, none of them would survive.

Duan Lan raised her hand. The imprint flared on her palm. Beneath the dragon, the earth erupted—forming a massive, glowing sigil, a portal wide enough to swallow a mountain.

The Azure River Dragon shot through it, vanishing into her spirit domain just as the Ice-Chen White Dragon soared higher into the sky.

“You think you can run?” Ro Xiao laughed, wild and cruel.

The Golden Fire Dragon had already melted through its ice restraints. Its limbs were numb, but a single breath of flame would restore its strength.

Crawling free from the frost, it spread its wings—ready to chase.

Then came a roar.

A mud dragon, wild-eyed and enraged, charged straight at it.

“Damn beast! You’re asking for death!” Ro Xiao screamed.

This was the second dragon Ko Bei had summoned—just before dying. The Eagle Beast Dragon was gone. His master was dead. The mud dragon could’ve fled back to the wilds. But instead, it charged forward—fueled by fury, driven by loyalty.

But it was only a Dragonling. Fighting a high-tier Dragon General? It was suicide.

And Ro Xiao was furious—not because it was weak, but because it had delayed him. Cost him time. Time he couldn’t afford.