Chapter 987: Equal Exchange

With a dragon’s roar, the heavens and earth turned gray and white, as if all color had faded—and with it, the vitality of all surrounding creatures vanished.

The once fearsome dragon pack instantly froze into lifelike statues: some roared with bared fangs on the ground, some soared with wings spread in the sky, some eyes filled with terror, others still puzzled why their fear-gaze had no effect on the tiny, supremely beautiful hairless monkey.

The only splash of color left among the dragons was Dorothy herself.

Thus, the entire dragon pack was netted like insects trapped in amber.

The sisters who had just arrived a hundred li away were unaffected; they all stared at the now monochrome region.

Time magic.

Though the sisters were all geniuses in their respective fields, none among them possessed the talent for space-time.

Space-time reigns supreme; fate holds the highest honor.

Even Sophilia, with her peerless fate power, could not help but envy the power of space-time.

After all, space-time power is simply too convenient and useful.

Euphelia, watching her daughter’s invincible display, faintly smiled, unable to hide her pride.

Hmm, this is my daughter. Dragon mom proudly hands-on-hips.jpg

Though Long Ma appeared stern and impassive on the surface, her mind was already running meme loops.

After all, who isn’t still a girl inside?

Mavis beside Long Ma’s expression gradually turned to shock.

She wasn’t astonished that the young mistress could cast time stop—she’d heard of it before. The Grand Inquisitor Joker’s signature ability, besides that godlike violence, was precisely this space-time power.

She’d actually been debating whether to offer the young mistress a little guidance on her time magic, but her complicated emotions had kept her from acting.

But until now, she’d only heard of it—this was the first time she’d witnessed the young mistress’s time stop firsthand.

Undeniably, the mastery was flawless. At such a young age, she’d already cast this forbidden spell instantly—her proficiency must already rival that of a Saint. Truly remarkable.

Even she, once hailed as a once-in-ten-thousand-years genius in time magic, had only learned this forbidden spell at sixteen—and her proficiency was nowhere near this level.

No wonder—she’s Euphelia’s daughter. She carries the same spirit as her mentor.

But that wasn’t what shocked Mavis. What truly stunned her was…

“Why does the young mistress’s time stop look so familiar? It’s practically identical to my own secret style.”

Mavis’s mind trembled with disbelief.

Witch magic has long since matured into a complex field; even the same spell has countless schools, for as a thousand readers see a thousand Hamlets, each witch interprets a spell differently.

Though the final effects may appear similar, a true master can instantly discern the school behind any spell.

Mavis was, of course, a master of time magic—but now she doubted herself.

No matter how she looked, the young mistress’s time stop was unmistakably the Mavis School—she herself had founded it; she couldn’t possibly be wrong.

But when did I ever teach the young mistress? How come I don’t remember?

Did I lose my memory? Or did the young mistress learn it from someone else?

But I’ve never taken a disciple—my school demands extraordinary talent and insight. I’ve never found a worthy successor…

At this moment, the Time Dragon Witch’s mind grew chaotic.

Magical lineage is a matter of utmost importance to any witch—that’s why the master-disciple bond is so vital in the witch world.

Material inheritance may be spent within a few generations, but a magical school’s lineage can endure for millennia.

Back then, Euphelia sought a child not merely to inherit her estate, but to carry on her combat style.

Mavis, too, had long sought a worthy successor. Though young and not in a hurry, the thought had always lingered.

And now, the perfect candidate had appeared.

Though Mavis racked her brain, she couldn’t fathom how the young mistress had learned her school—yet she knew for certain she hadn’t taught her.

And since she hadn’t personally taught her, yet the young mistress mastered it so well, this proved the girl’s talent and insight were terrifyingly high.

Any master seeing such a prodigy would be stirred—Mavis, at least, found herself utterly captivated.

But why—why her? Why the young mistress?

The Time Dragon Witch gazed at the young mistress, who ruled the entire chicken-serpent dragon pack with invincible grace, her eyes growing more complex.

Admiration, regret, disdain, envy, admiration again…

My long-awaited successor—why must it be her?

In the end, a thousand words dissolved into a sigh.

In the center of the dragon pack, Dorothy, of course, knew nothing of the thoughts outside. She was now pondering how to deal with the dragons.

“We came here to hunt, so obviously we kill them and take their eyes.”

The Fairy King spoke as if stating the most obvious truth.

After all, she was the embodiment of Dorothy’s martial soul and draconic nature—survival of the fittest was nature’s purest law.

But sadly, the Fairy King was merely an embodiment. Had she been allowed to act as she wished, she’d have aimed straight for the serpent’s head and delivered a fatal strike—but the target had been abruptly changed, redirected toward…

And she’d already had her fun; the rest didn’t concern her.

At the moment of time stop, Dorothy had already reclaimed control of her body.

She looked down at the statue-like serpent head in her hand, then frowned.

“Do I really have to kill it?”

She hesitated.

If these were mindless dragon beasts, she wouldn’t have thought twice—but these were intelligent sub-dragons.

If killing were necessary for survival, she wouldn’t hesitate—but killing merely for profit? Suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

After all, one reason she didn’t want to become an Armed Witch was precisely this—the witch race’s transformation from dragon hunters into new dragons began with this very hesitation.

Was she now about to repeat the same mistake?

It might seem hypocritical—after all, she’d happily eaten dragon meat before. But most of the ingredients she’d seen were already corpses, rarely alive. This chicken-serpent sub-dragon, however, was very much alive.

There’s an ancient saying: “A gentleman stays far from the kitchen.” It doesn’t mean gentlemen don’t cook—it means that if a gentleman sees his food alive, he might find it hard to eat. So he avoids the kitchen, so he never witnesses the suffering of his meal, and thus eats without guilt.

Dorothy now understood the ancient gentleman’s heart.

“Heh. In the end, it’s just human hypocrisy.”

She mocked herself, then “thawed” the serpent head in her hand.

The once black-and-white serpent head regained its color, instinctively letting out another desperate dragon roar—trying to warn the rest of the pack to flee, never to fight this “monster” again.

But only after roaring did it notice the strange stillness around it.

As a weak, uneducated sub-dragon, it didn’t understand time magic—but its long life had taught it the power of such feats. Its deep serpent eyes flickered with despair.

It knew—the entire dragon pack was finished.

Having lived so long in this pasture world, it knew full well that its entire kind were merely livestock, raised and harvested at the world’s master’s whim.

When it had once, through a strange encounter, evolved from a mindless beast into a sentient sub-dragon, the thought had haunted it daily—and now, the fear that had tormented its entire life had become reality.

Its herd had reached its slaughter date.

They say snakes don’t cry—but now, tears welled in the eyes of this ancient, near-dead sub-dragon.

Sigh. All its careful efforts to nurture its kind… had only doomed its children.

Enough. Perhaps this was fate. The law of survival of the fittest—sub-dragons like them, evolved from beasts, understood it better than anyone. But understanding didn’t mean acceptance.

But what could one do? The world had always been cruel—and always would be.

And from the ancient bloodline inheritance it had gained upon becoming a sub-dragon, it knew: every other world was the same. The entire Western Universe operated this way.

Weakness was the original sin. The strong were meant to trample all.

But it refused to accept such a fate. It was an old thing, nearing death—what did it have left to fear?

Now, it defiantly opened its jaws and roared at the terrifying enemy before it. For its kind, it had lived cautiously its whole life. Now that all was lost, it refused to die in cowardice.

Dragons were the strongest warrior race. Even as a sub-dragon, it had its pride. It wanted to die as a dragon warrior—on the battlefield.

It was a warrior. Not livestock.

But ideals are beautiful—reality is cruel.

It had just bared its venomous fangs when a massive slap landed squarely on its face.

“Be quiet. I’m still trying to convince myself not to kill you. Don’t give me a reason to.”

Dorothy snapped at the old serpent head.

Serpent head: “???”

Dragons may be killed, but never humiliated.

The chicken-serpent sub-dragon, now with nothing left to lose, didn’t understand—it only grew angrier.

It couldn’t take another second. It would explode with this monster.

But just as it prepared to detonate its body, it met the gaze of the beautiful monster before it.

Then, it felt exactly what other prey felt when pinned by their fear-gaze.

No—its own fear-gaze couldn’t compare to this monster’s gaze. In this beautiful monster’s dragon eyes, the sun literally dwelled.

The chicken-serpent sub-dragon felt a blazing sun rise before it—its boundless light and heat made it understand its own insignificance, and grasp the terrifying greatness of the monster before it.

No—it didn’t understand at all. This phantom sun was nothing like the ordinary sun hanging in the sky of this pasture world. This was something far more terrifying, beyond comprehension—a true unspeakable entity.

Merely gazing upon this sun, it felt its struggle was laughable. How could it ever dare challenge such a being? To this entity, even proud pure-blood dragons were no more than livestock—or worse, being chosen as livestock was itself a honor.

The poor sub-dragon’s consciousness nearly shattered under the sun’s glare. Its reason teetered on zero—it was going mad.

Just as it was about to fully lose itself, become a fanatic worshipper of this sun, and willingly sacrifice itself as an offering to this great being for the sake of supreme glory—the cold sun suddenly grew warm.

Yes, like a rare winter sun breaking through frozen earth, the light softened, the world turned beautiful. The sub-dragon’s consciousness felt as if returning to its mother’s arms—calm, content, blissful.

It was about to drown in this supreme happiness. In this cruel world, there was no better place. This was the only redeeming light in the black abyss. It willingly chose eternal sinking, refusing to awaken.

But it awakened anyway.

"Alright, are you willing to talk with me properly now?"

It heard a calm, beautiful Dragon tongue spoken beside its ear.

Having regained its clarity, the Cockatrice Dragonling looked again at the beautiful monster before it, and its serpent eyes grew serene; it nodded gently, even reverently.

How could a monster be so beautiful? This was clearly the incarnation of the Great God upon earth.

"I want some of your serpent eyes, but I don’t particularly want to kill you outright—what do you suggest I do?"

It heard the divine incarnation ask, sounding slightly perplexed.

Hearing the god’s distress, the Cockatrice Dragonling seriously considered the matter.

"I am willing to offer my own serpent eyes as a sacrifice to you, my lord, and I am willing to have some of the young ones do the same—only ask that you spare a few bloodlines for our kind."

It answered with sincerity.

Yes, in its mind, sacrificing a portion of its members to secure the future of the entire clan was a very worthwhile trade.

Its mind was clear now, not brainwashed—this was simply how it had always operated.

The Cockatrice Dragonling was never a powerful dragon-beast; survival in this world often meant facing countless predators. Whenever such times came, sacrificing a few dragons to hold the rear or lure away hunters was perfectly normal.

Yet, after making this suggestion, it noticed the god, who had seemed confused moments before, suddenly seemed to understand—her entire being glowed with light, a warmth like the sun that had just shone upon them.

"Never mind. What’s the difference between me doing this and you offering it? I’ll let you go soon, but I may need to observe you a little—specifically, I want to study the mechanism of your Fear Eyes. Of course, this won’t harm your power."

"Let’s make an equal exchange."

Dorothy said this.

Yes, equal exchange—the foundation of alchemy, and the truth of the world.

The answer to her troubling question had been clear all along, hadn’t it?

Why must there be life or death, master or servant?

Let us simply make equal exchanges.

The House Witch has an epiphany.

Qian Bao: In this other world, I've come to bring you warmth.