“Dragons…”

Gu Jian’s murmur echoed through the cavern.

The enormous number of serpentine skeletons, many almost completely submerged in the lake of blood while others, larger or piled atop the bones, still remained clearly visible. Every element of that place painted a tragic scene.

Aotian did not know what had happened there, but whatever it was, it had been a massacre.

Mu Luyin, stunned by the sight, swallowed hard upon hearing the word.

“These are really… the legendary dragons?” she murmured, dazed, recognizing the tyrannical and proud aura that emanated from those bones. Even as lifeless remains, the pressure was enough for them to be identified, even if Gu Jian had said nothing.

“Huh? Legendary dragons… well, we can’t quite call them that,” he suddenly replied. But, instead of the confirmation she expected, Elder Gu simply shook his head and pointed toward some parts of the creatures. “Do you see how their skulls only have small protrusions, almost nonexistent? And also, they have no limbs. Even though they’ve turned into skeletons and their limbs could have fallen into the lake, it’s unlikely that happened to all of them. Creatures of this level, even reduced to bones, do not fall apart so easily,” he explained.

“Then… what are they?” Mu Luyin blinked in confusion, unconvinced. She was certain they were dragons.

This time, it wasn’t Elder Gu who answered, but Lei Yun, still holding her hand.

“Elder Gu must be saying they are hornless dragons, a subspecies of dragon with thin blood. Their bodies lack horns, or at most show a small bump in their place, with no forelimbs or hind limbs, looking almost like serpents. Of course, they can still spit dragon breath, roar like dragons, carry dragon aura, and are extremely proficient in flight. They can indeed be called dragons… but they are incomparable to dragons of purer blood, and calling them legendary dragons would be somewhat insulting to true dragons.”

He explained with a shrug, while his thoughts drifted to his past life.

‘Besides, the taste wasn’t bad at all. Haah, I still miss that fragrant Jiao Long meat I secretly ate. Too bad that arrogant guy, Long Zhihao, was my friend, otherwise maybe I would’ve tasted flood dragon meat before dying.’

He thought, recalling an old friend.

Elder Gu calmly nodded in approval of the explanation, while Mu Luyin looked at her Brother Yun with admiration for his wisdom.

In truth, Aotian even regretted having blurted “dragons” so directly when surprised by the sight, losing part of his expert aura.

‘I should’ve said something like: Heeh… little snake skeletons, nothing to see here,’ he thought, slightly disappointed with himself.

Fortunately, he quickly noticed the differences and, using his knowledge as a xianxia reader, identified that it was not a true pure-blooded dragon, salvaging his expert prestige. Even so, he didn’t want to risk being too direct, preferring instead to point out some missing characteristics rather than immediately declare it.

‘Ugh… man, pretending to be an expert is tough. If it were just a contest of fists or cultivation auxiliary arts, I’d crush anyone, but in these areas of knowledge… even as a xianxia reader, how could I possibly know everything in this world? And even if I do know something, like about dragons, who guarantees it’s correct? Damn those two ancestors whose minds I read, couldn’t you have known more?!’ Aotian thought, sweating slightly and even blaming the dead. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn novel✦fire.net

Gu Jian, maintaining his outward calm, turned toward the boy Lei Yun and smiled faintly.

“You know quite a lot. This continent hasn’t had dragons for countless years, and probably not even those little fellows from the Twelve Powers in the sky that day know this much,” he commented with a faint smile, looking at Lei Yun curiously.

Lei Yun froze for an instant, then soon smiled calmly.

“Well, Elder Gu, I just really like to read. And I’ve had some fortuitous encounters, so my knowledge is a bit broader,” he stated, confident and composed.

But inwardly, Lei Yun was nervous.

‘Ugh… damn, I didn’t think dragons could be extinct on this continent. I need to be careful spreading knowledge in the future,’ he reflected, uneasy and uncomfortable.

Aotian, seeing the slight nervousness the boy tried to hide, felt much more at ease.

The scene was almost comical. While one tried to act like an expert, the other was desperately trying to hide that he was one.

On the other hand, Mu Luyin’s heart beat a little faster as she looked at those men who dared call twelve Soul Formation cultivators “little fellows.” Together with everything she had seen so far, she began to suspect things might be far more complicated than she imagined, and that these men might not be simple Golden Cores or even Nascent Souls.

To Lei Yun’s relief, who felt helpless being stared at after exposing himself a little, Elder Gu only nodded and returned to observing the cavern.

From the floating stone suspended on the ceiling, they could clearly see the things below with their spiritual senses, even in complete darkness.

And there, casually taking root over the dragon skeletons, grew various types of spiritual herbs.

Aotian was baffled by this sight.

‘Okay, fine, spiritual plants don’t need light, or even soil, really. As long as there’s an environment rich in spiritual energy, they are nourished directly. The reason soil is useful in a mountain’s spiritual garden is because the earth accumulates spiritual energy in large amounts, helping the plants grow better when they take root, but it’s not mandatory. So, plants growing in complete darkness and on skeletons, fine, but…’

Gu Jian’s lips twitched at that moment, revealing Aotian’s internal thoughts.

‘… where the hell did the seeds come from?!’

The idea just wouldn’t fit in his head, it seemed absurd.

Normally, spiritual plants were born from mutations of common plants exposed to spiritual energy over long periods of time. But in that environment, where even cultivators could barely survive, normal plants would die instantly. Therefore, those herbs could only have come from spiritual herb seeds. Only then could they resist the energy and grow there.

‘Err… well, could someone have planted them? A pretty strange place to set up a spiritual garden, but extremely effective for high-level herbs. Honestly, I’ll just put this one in the “too weird to bother” box. I’m not here to figure out how herbs appear out of nowhere. Maybe it’s something like the ancient storage rings of these dragons, which exploded after long erosion by the Dew of the Dragon’s Lament, scattering items upward, with seeds and herbs that ended up falling on the skeletons and blooming… yeah, let’s go with that.’

Aotian came up with a far-fetched explanation and then left the matter aside, shrugging wisely.

‘In any case, this is a good place. The strong spiritual energy, together with the protection of the formations, has isolated it from the impurities outside. Although there are still more impurities here than in the common cultivation environment outside the Shadowfallen Burial Mountain, it’s the same amount as outside the main mountain, which is already much better than within its boundaries.’

He reasoned, noticing that his body was no longer invaded by impurities, and that the talisman was cooling down, with nothing to do.

While reflecting, he continuously created missions to evaluate the level of danger. Although some indicated “very dangerous,” the majority were surprisingly safe.

Taking a confident step forward, Gu Jian left the floating stone and, consequently, the protective formation, immediately becoming exposed over the vast sea of Dew of the Dragon’s Lament.

The scorching temperature, together with the aggressiveness of the energy that lingered in the air, attacked his roots and body, trying to destroy him from the inside out with its overwhelming power.

Immediately, he focused one mind on operating the cultivation technique at 90% of his roots’ capacity, leaving 10% for flying and carrying out other operations.

All the while, he kept creating missions to test the environment and prevent his avatar from being caught off guard while collecting herbs and refining energy. At the first sign of danger, he would stop the cultivation technique to be ready for combat.

The other avatars soon descended from the stone, and when the couple prepared to follow, Gu Jian raised his hand, stopping them.

“You two, don’t leave. The energy here is even stronger than in the Dragon Lake. Your bodies can’t endure prolonged exposure. We’ll look for herbs and explore the situation, and you can remain inside cultivating.”

He spoke seriously and continued advising:

“These formations not only protect you, but also pacify the energy, making it controllable instead of the wild beast it normally is. This way, you can cultivate safely, as long as you’re not greedy and don’t draw in more energy than you can handle. The quality of the energy here is even better than the central stone of the Dragon Lake, where the little red-dressed girl was sitting before we kicked her out. Basically, you’ve gained the great opportunity you came seeking, and you can improve in peace until the mountain closes.”

Gu Jian — or rather, Aotian — finished his advice under the couple’s attentive gazes and nods.

Seeing that they understood, he didn’t wait any longer and turned around, leaving with the avatars, only leaving one last phrase:

“Of course, this is only my advice, and each of you knows your own capabilities best. If you wish to step out of the formation and believe you’re able, don’t hesitate.”

His voice echoed in the air as the couple watched the ten men scatter, beginning to explore the skeletons and collect the herbs growing over them.

…

Landing softly on the enormous skeleton of a dragon, Yang Shi walked along the large spine until he approached the skull, which resembled that of a serpent.

There, flooding the skull and turning it into a vegetal dragon, some bushes full of crimson roses grew, as if they had been dipped in blood.

The plants’ roots wrapped around the skull, descended into the blood lake, and plunged into it.

‘What a powerful adaptation. These plants evolved to the point where their roots can endure diving into that terrible lake of energy without exploding, and even nourish themselves with it.’

Aotian observed in awe, while controlling Yang Shi to caress the roses. His eyes gleamed as he identified something among the flowers.

‘Damn, Bloodheart Fruit! That bastard tiger is in luck! Who would’ve thought I’d find the final missing ingredient for his evolution pill so easily. And the quality of these Bloodheart Fruits is extremely high, reaching Formation-Tier. They should serve for his first, second, and even third evolution, if he keeps following the path of the Blood Tiger.’

He thought, smiling faintly as he retrieved the crimson fruits, full of purple veins resembling a macabre heart, from among the roses.

After collecting them without harming the plant, he turned and looked toward a distant point swallowed by darkness—too far away even for his spiritual senses to reach.

He wondered what could be so terrifying there.

[Mission: Delve North of the Dragon Cemetery

…

Danger Level: Very Dangerous]

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