Chapter 338: The Predator, Buried

When Ang touched this egg and caused the Dragon God Transformation to extend, everyone assumed it was a Dragon God's egg.

But everyone forgot one thing: besides parental sticks, it's the predator that can awaken potential.

A female's potential peaks most intensely when rats or cockroaches leap at her—predators are often more effective than parental sticks.

And inside this egg lies the predator of the dragon race.

"Predator? Caelius?!" Negril's scales stood on end in excitement.

He was already a death dragon, merely a soul projection, yet even hearing that name triggered a stress response—clearly, the name held immense terrifying power over him.

That name terrified all dragonkind, a fear etched into their bloodlines, yet no modern dragon had ever seen Caelius.

Just as all dragons know how to perform Dragon God Transformation, yet none can succeed—while a gardening skeleton, using a Druid's transformation, managed it perfectly—utterly inexplicable.

Legend says Caelius is a colossal serpent capable of swallowing an entire plane in one gulp, and it adores dragon eggs—swallowing one, then another, then another…

This reveals the absurdity of the legend: how could a serpent that swallows entire planes possibly eat dragon eggs one at a time? Even all dragons bound together wouldn't fill one bite.

Thus, Negril, applying logical reasoning, concluded this legend was nonsense—likely fabricated by the Dragon God to frighten dragons into vigilance.

If it were merely a giant serpent, it couldn't be called a dragon's predator—it doesn't specifically target dragons.

Beyond its serpent form, Caelius has a second form—the Serpent of Misfortune, a shape formed from blood mist; legend says that merely seeing the Serpent of Misfortune infects dragons, causing their bloodline to degenerate and giving birth to a serpent.

Can you imagine the feeling of nurturing an egg for five hundred years, only to have a serpent crawl out?

Not only are five centuries of effort wasted, but you don't know how to face it—because the serpent doesn't know it's a serpent; it believes it's a dragon, the offspring of its parents, a proud dragon, and only wonders why it looks nothing like them.

It's an ethical tragedy. The cruel would kill it outright; the kind-hearted must endure the stares of their kind and grit their teeth to raise it—after all, they've nurtured five hundred years of emotion inside the egg.

This is the dragon race's predator: Caelius, the Serpent of Misfortune.

Ang, in Dragon God Transformation, punched the egg—and space froze. Then, flame cracks spread across the egg's surface. Ang pressed explosive fireballs into the egg at thirteen per second.

The entire egg was covered in flame cracks. The Dragon God Transformation still had time, so Ang continued stacking purification spells around the egg at thirteen per second—so the egg was simultaneously incinerated and instantly purified.

Ang treated this with such caution, yet Negril didn't think it excessive—because the name Caelius terrified dragons beyond measure; the idea of "just seeing it causes infection" was utterly unbelievable.

The claim was absurd, but out of caution, Negril closed his eyes and refused to look.

When the frozen space time ended, all explosive fireballs pressed into the egg detonated at once, accompanied by blinding holy light.

Those nearby saw only endless light; from afar, one could see fire and light erupting forward—*pop*—obliterating everything in front.

The egg vanished completely, not even a wisp of smoke remained.

Negril opened his eyes, dared not look at Ang's position, but turned to Anthony, anxiously asking: "How? Did you destroy it?"

"Destroyed. Not even a speck left," Anthony said, stunned.

Only then did Negril dare turn and look—before Ang, nothing remained. No stone egg, no blood mist, not even a patch of ground—only a deep, conical trench, steaming with the scent of purified holy light.

"Truly not even a speck left! Ang, you're amazing," Negril exclaimed loudly.

But Ang shook his head, staring at the empty space before him.

"What do you mean? Why shake your head?" Negril's heart sank.

Ang realized others couldn't see what he saw, so he immediately sent a thought through their soul link, sharing what he currently perceived.

Only those linked to him could see it: before Ang, a ribbon-like entity composed of soul-flame writhed, like a serpent.

"Mis… Misfortune Serpent!" Negril cried in panic: "I understand! I understand now—why merely seeing it causes corruption! The Serpent of Misfortune is a force of belief! The dragon predator is another god! I'm doomed! I saw it! I'm corrupted!"

The writhing Serpent of Misfortune seemed to hear Negril's cry—it froze abruptly, one end pointing directly at Negril.

The Serpent of Misfortune appeared only as a ribbon, lacking eyes or facial features, yet when its end pointed at Negril, he felt utterly watched.

The next instant, the Serpent of Misfortune lunged forward.

Composed of belief-force, it had no physical form and moved with blinding speed—Negril blinked, and the Serpent was already before him.

Almost as it touched Negril, the Serpent suddenly tensed and halted.

Its form radiated confusion—its front twisted back to see: Ang's massive hand gripped its other end, stretching its body taut.

The Serpent of Misfortune radiated intense confusion—as if wondering why Ang could grasp it, when it was belief-force itself.

Faith-energy, soul-energy, soul-flame, belief-force—all were essentially the same: belief-level forces, inherently formless. Unless one were a god, one couldn't even see them, let alone grasp them barehanded.

But it didn't matter—it was formless anyway; what use was holding one end?

The Serpent of Misfortune's body suddenly elongated, coiling around Negril. Almost simultaneously, everyone present heard a soul-level voice:

"Sweet young dragon, my favorite—add fear, makes sweetness more layered… Ah pfft! Dead?"

The legend of the Serpent of Misfortune had terrified Negril—his face full of "Oh no, I'm corrupted! My child with Nai Aili will turn into a serpent!"—until the Serpent's "Ah pfft" snapped him back to reality.

"Right! I'm dead! I can't have children! Thank goodness! Scared me half to death." Negril snapped awake and looked at the Serpent of Misfortune.

The Serpent's front writhed wildly, like it had bitten a pile of feces—its entire form radiated pain and revulsion.

It had expected a sweet, tender young dragon, but bit into dried meat aged for millennia—the shock and disgust were indescribable unless experienced firsthand.

But before it could react, its entire form tightened sharply—a powerful pull came from the other end, yanking it backward at high speed.

Ang was furious. If Negril weren't dead—if Nai Aili or White Throat were here—the Serpent of Misfortune would have succeeded.

The Dragon God's bloodline memory had warned him: the Serpent of Misfortune was a formidable predator. He'd been cautious—but still got attacked. Furious!

Sensing Ang's anger, the tiny wraith on his finger emerged—*whoosh! —biting into the Serpent of Misfortune.

"Huh? What's this? No—!" The Serpent of Misfortune suddenly panicked—it felt itself being rapidly devoured, the wraith slurping it down like noodles.

The Serpent's struggles were meaningless—its form kept being sucked away. Even as it stretched longer, it grew thinner—and the wraith swallowed faster.

The entire Serpent of Misfortune was swallowed. The wraith let out a *ha! and burped, then curled back onto Ang's finger.

But not long after, it raised its head again, exhaled, and spat out a blue gemstone—then relaxed.

Everyone rushed over to examine the gem in Ang's hand: a round stone, close-up glowing blue, but from afar, the reflected light formed a vertical blue pupil—like a serpent's eye.

"Thought-crystal?" Du Luo asked in surprise.

Soul-crystals and holy-crystals were both thought-crystals—matter formed from faith-energy, soul-energy, and other belief-based forces. This blue gem was clearly one too.

Negril stared at it, muttering: "So our dragon predator is actually a god named Caelius? His divine technique is the Serpent of Misfortune—dragons who see it give birth to serpent eggs?"

Anthony frowned: "That's incredibly cruel."

Negril shook his head, his mood suddenly lighter. The bloodline's ingrained knowledge had been terrifying—so when the Serpent appeared, his reaction was pure panic, utterly unbecoming of a God of Knowledge. That bloodline fear couldn't be countered by any amount of knowledge.

But if it were merely a god, the situation changed entirely.

Gods—he knew them well. What's scarier than a predator? The Serpent of Misfortune was terrifying—but if it was just a divine technique, it was different.

Divine techniques could be countered. Many were useless—like the Harvest Goddess's…

Similarly, if the Serpent of Misfortune only targeted dragon eggs, it was the most useless technique of all. Just bring a dead dragon—or one past breeding age—and it'd fail.

Fear came from the unknown. Once it entered Negril's familiar domain, he instantly relaxed.

If it was just a god, kill it. Didn't Ang kill gods all the time?

Now the question was: how to find it? Negril turned and asked: "Do any of you know this Caelius?"

Du Luo said: "Caelius? Never heard of it. But this serpent's aura… likely belongs to an ancient god."

Anthony suddenly smacked his thigh: "Now that you mention it, Du Luo, I recall—the Church's ancient god epic did record a primordial deity that made dragons lay serpent eggs. Was it called Caelius?"

"Ancient god epic? Where is it? Let me see." Negril asked curiously—how had he never heard of such a thing?

Anthony spread his hands: "Burned it."

"... ou burned it again, didn't you? You civilization-destroyer." Negril groaned: "Do you remember the content? Do you know where Caelius was? How many ancient gods did it list?"

Anthony thought: "Can't recall how many ancient gods were listed—but I remember the two strongest: Life God and Dragon God ranked first and second."

Naturally—Life God and Dragon God weren't just top-tier among ancient gods; even today, they were among the absolute strongest.

"As for Caelius's location? Since the Church of Light unified the main plane, any god whose whereabouts are lost—check the Church's God Tomb. You'll find them there." Anthony said.

The Church of Light's God Tomb? There was such a place? Where?

"Luna, where is the Church of Light's God Tomb?"

The God Tomb lay in the Void, where all gods slain by the Light Gods were buried—whether ancient or new.

Those who didn't believe in Light were heretics. From its founding, the Church of Light had relentlessly waged war against all heretical gods.

If other gods still lived, it wasn't because the Light Gods didn't want to conquer them—it was because they couldn't defeat them.

For example, Life God lived perfectly fine—the Light Gods never even considered confronting it. Couldn't beat it. Undeath God was fine too. Couldn't beat it.

If Caelius once existed but now vanished, the most likely explanation was that he was buried in the Church of Light's God Tomb.

"Dead?" Negril asked.

"Yes, likely dead. Maybe not even killed by the Light Gods—but by your Dragon God. Why else would he leave a petrified egg in the hatchery? To make all eggs hatch into serpents?"

Anthony shrugged: "Of course not. Probably just meant to trigger your bloodline. Who knew the boss could restore it? Pure accident. No need to panic—the dragon predator is long gone."

That made sense. If there'd been danger, the Dragon God wouldn't have left a predator's egg in the hatchery.

"Then why pass down such terrifying knowledge in the bloodline?" Negril asked.

"Obviously—how else would it trigger your bloodline?" Du Luo said.

…

In an unknown plane, at the moment Ang shouted "Shining Feti," the purple-gold skeleton, frozen in thought, stirred—raising its head blankly, murmuring: "I… I think… my name is Feti? Shining… Feti?"

Feti slowly stood, pacing aimlessly—something was awakening in its soul: "Palace of Rest… Soul Storm… Undeath God…"

"Undeath Godhead… it brings back more memories. Where is the Undeath God?" The purple-gold skeleton stood still for a long time, then remembered something. It walked to a corner, rummaged, and pulled out a statue.

It was a statue with both hands cupped before it. Feti removed the third phalanx of its defective finger and placed it on the cupped palm—immediately, a furry little paw reached out and firmly pressed against the bone.