Chapter 26: Ink Jade Flood Dragon |
Saintess Jiang Fuxue took a deep breath and tried a different method.
She no longer attempted to forcibly wrap it with spiritual energy, and instead began to simulate the fluctuations of a centipede-dragon-type spirit beast.
She focused her mind, adjusting her spiritual energy to a low and drawn-out frequency, carrying an ancient cadence—this was a kind of language she had comprehended after studying the sect’s ancient texts and consulting countless elders, one that simulated the way the ancient flood dragon race communicated with its own kind.
The tip of the Ink Jade Flood Dragon’s tail twitched slightly.
Saintess Jiang Fuxue’s heartbeat quickened, and she held her breath.
The tip of that tail merely changed the direction of its curl.
Then, it closed its eyes again.
As if saying: “Noisy.”
Saintess Jiang Fuxue bit her lower lip, her fingertips turning white.
Sweat slid down from her forehead, dripped past her chin, and fell onto her collar.
Her breathing began to grow unsteady, and the output of her spiritual energy became intermittent as well—this was a sign of excessive exhaustion.
Below the platform, Baihu paced about restlessly, letting out low whimpers.
Beast Lord frowned slightly. Several times, it seemed as though he wanted to speak to stop her, but in the end, he still said nothing. Looking at his daughter’s stubborn back, he knew that any interference at this moment would be an insult.
Saintess Jiang Fuxue refused to stop.
How could she stop here? If she retreated now, would she not be admitting before all the cultivators in the world that she was inferior to a disciple of the Lingyun Sect, a sword cultivator sect that knew nothing about beast taming?
She forcibly squeezed out the very last trace of spiritual energy from the depths of her sea of consciousness, compressing it into an extremely fine, pure, nearly transparent thread.
This was her final strike, the trump card she had never shown to anyone else.
That thread carried all her pride and frustration as it lightly reached toward the core consciousness of the Ink Jade Flood Dragon.
The Ink Jade Flood Dragon opened its eyes for the third time.
This time, it did not ignore her. It raised its small dragon head, and those silver-white vertical pupils finally looked seriously at this stubborn human.
Then—
It yawned.
The movement was leisurely and absent-minded, even carrying a trace of lazy elegance.
It opened its tender little mouth, revealing dense rows of teeth. Although the teeth had not yet fully grown in, they already looked incomparably sharp, and then it let out a bored yawn.
After yawning, it lowered its head, rested it on its tail fin, and adjusted into a more comfortable posture.
It fell asleep again.
From beginning to end, it had not displayed any hostility, nor had it shown any intention of attacking or driving her away.
It was simply… completely uninterested.
This kind of “indifference,” not born out of malice, was more discouraging than any rejection.
Saintess Jiang Fuxue’s thread of spiritual power hung suspended in midair, trapped in an awkward dilemma.
She stood blankly before the stone platform. Because of her excessive expenditure of spiritual energy, the spiritual qi within her body had become somewhat chaotic; the silver bells at her ankles drooped weakly, no longer giving off their chime.
Her complexion was far paler than before, and her hair had been soaked through with sweat, clinging messily to both sides of her cheeks.
Silence, long silence.
At last, she lowered her arm and quietly allowed the thread of spiritual energy that had embodied all her painstaking effort to dissipate.
She gave a slight bow toward the Ink Jade Flood Dragon—this was a courtesy of the Beast Taming Sect toward noble spirit beasts; it had nothing to do with success or failure, and was simply out of respect.
Then she turned around.
Without looking back, she walked straight toward Baihu.
Baihu seemed to sense its master’s extremely dejected mood. It whimpered softly and gently rubbed its head against her palm.
Saintess Jiang Fuxue said nothing and mounted the tiger’s back.
The silver bells rang again, but they had lost the clear and pleasing timbre they had possessed when she first arrived, and now sounded somewhat dull.
She did not leave, nor did she look again at the stone platform.
She merely sat quietly upon the tiger’s back, spine straight, like a cold plum blossom standing proudly in the snow.
Even in failure, she had to maintain her dignity.
Up in the stands, Elder Sun laboriously opened his wide mouth and muttered in a low voice, “Is this Ink Jade Swallowtail Dragon really that hard to deal with?”
By instinct, he turned his head to look toward that moonlight-white figure.
Lu Fengmian gazed at the stone platform, gazed at the sleeping little dragon, and also gazed at the stubbornly straight back on the tiger’s back.
He withdrew his gaze, his expression still calm.
But the fingers hidden within his sleeve slowly tightened.
It was his turn.
The figure on the tiger’s back had not yet gone far, and the sound of the silver bells was sparse and intermittent, as though it were an unwilling lingering echo.
The whispers in the stands did not cease; some were sighing, some were trying to smooth things over, and others were watching him with varying degrees of intent.
That disciple of the Lingyun Sect—“He didn’t do anything, and yet a spirit beast took the initiative to approach him.”
Lu Fengmian lowered his eyes and looked at the fingertips the Bloodfeather Owl had rubbed against earlier.
Then he stepped forward and walked toward the stone platform.
The buzzing in the stands paused for a moment, then erupted again like a swarm of exploding bees.
“He plans to try?”
“Even the Beast Taming Sect’s Saintess failed, and he still dares…”
“Isn’t the Lingyun Sect just a sword cultivator sect? How does he dare?”
“Young people are ignorant of the vastness of the world.”
Lu Fengmian turned a deaf ear to all of it.
His moon-white robe brushed over the stone steps. His footsteps were light, without the slightest hesitation.
He stopped before the stone platform.
The glow of the barrier reflected upon the side of his face, outlining a profile as calm as water.
He did not immediately look at the little dragon, but instead raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the stone platform and the viewing stands, across those faces filled with shock, suspicion, or simple curiosity, before finally settling upon the figure in the center of the high platform.
The Beast Taming Sect’s Sect Master, Perfect Lord Jun Wanshou.
Lu Fengmian clasped his hands before his chest and bowed. “This junior, Lu Fengmian of the Lingyun Sect, requests permission to try.”
Perfect Lord Jun Wanshou looked down at him.
The Sect Master’s gaze was heavy, and he did not answer immediately.
He looked at the Golden Core cultivator before him, who was still too young, took note of his composed bearing and calm eyes, and recalled the scene of the Bloodfeather Owl jumping of its own accord into his palm.
He also recalled his daughter’s slightly reddened eyes when she left the stone platform.
“…Granted.”
Just one word.
Lu Fengmian bowed again, then straightened and turned toward the gleaming stone platform.
In the stands, Elder Sun had already gripped the railing so hard that cracks had appeared in it.
He did not dare make a sound, did not dare move, and did not even dare breathe; he was afraid that if he took a breath, the old life lodged in his throat would burst right out with it.
Disciple Lu.
He wailed inwardly.
“This old man’s face, this old man’s career as an elder, and whether this old man can hold his head high before these old fellows for the next ten years… all of it depends on you!”
Lu Fengmian could not hear Elder Sun’s inner thoughts.
He merely stood quietly before the stone platform, lowering his head to look at the little dragon curled up in the spirit spring at the center of the barrier.
The Ink Jade Swallowtail Dragon was still coiled up, its tail loosely wrapped around itself, its head resting on its tail, its eyes half-closed, looking lazy and difficult to approach.
Lu Fengmian was in no hurry to release spiritual energy or simulate any frequency.
He merely moved a thought—Affinity of All Spirits, activated.
There was no spiritual qi fluctuation, nor any spectacular scene. No one even noticed that anything had happened.
Only the Ink Jade Flood Dragon.
Its head, which had originally been resting on its tail, moved.
Those eyes slowly opened. It was no longer as indifferent toward Saintess Jiang Fuxue as it had been before; on the contrary, it turned its head around.
It looked toward Lu Fengmian.
That moon-white figure was reflected in its vertical pupils.
Elder Sun sucked in a breath of cold air and nearly choked to death on the spot.
There was a reaction! There was a reaction!