Chapter 97: The Dusk Dragon, the Path of Immortality

Luo Si’s dragon wings whipped up a gale, howling through the sky above New Moon Valley, churning the clouds like boiling water.

His shadow had barely swept over the campfire at the valley’s bottom when the entire wolf pack erupted like an oil pit set ablaze.

“Dragon Lord! The Dragon Lord has returned!”

An old wolf-man with half an ear missing suddenly rose onto its hind legs, pounding its chest with its forepaws, producing a drumlike thud.

That sound was like opening a floodgate—more and more wolf-men surged out, some still clutching half-chewed bones in their jaws, others too rushed to remove their sleeping claw-guards.

The wolf pups sleeping in the dens were jolted awake.

They didn’t understand why their elders had all rushed out, howling toward the sky with nearly mournful cries, but driven by curiosity, they followed along.

Amid the wolves’ howls, Luo Si retracted his wings and landed on a clear patch of ground at the heart of the New Moon Clan.

He noticed several young wolf-pups jostling at the front, their eyes wide as saucers.

These pups had clearly never seen him before; they were straining on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of the legendary Dragon Lord, and one particularly bold one even tried climbing onto the roof—only to be swatted back into its den by a female wolf-man.

“Six years and four months!”

Rasell’s voice came forth.

The chieftain’s mane had begun to gray, yet his running posture remained agile; he pushed through the pack and was the first to appear before Luo Si, kneeling down and saying, “I knew you would return. The Howling Moon Clan has waited for your return.”

Meanwhile, the old shaman, supported by Frostfang, limped out of the stone hut and approached slowly.

Luo Si gazed at the old wolf-man, whose fur was nearly all white and whose teeth had dwindled to just a few, and paused slightly.

He remembered the first time he met the old shaman—the wolf-man had been old, but steady on his feet, full of vigor and spirit; now he looked like he might expire at any moment.

These past six years.

To dragonkind, they were but the blink of an eye, the span of a single slumber.

But for a species with a lifespan of only fifty or sixty years, they were a long, long time.

“You’ve grown stronger.”

The old shaman said respectfully, “One day, your dragon wings will overshadow the entire Ser Wilds, making you the peerless great dragon.”

It broke free from Frostfang’s support, trembling, moving slowly, as if trying to kneel to show its loyalty.

Luo Si looked down at the old shaman, his massive wings flexing gently to brace its body.

“No need to kneel.”

He spoke bluntly: “You seem close to death.”

“Thank you for your mercy,” the old shaman murmured, squinting. “Wolf-kind lives briefly. Please understand.”

After a pause, it added, “I can no longer serve you, but I have chosen a worthy successor—wise and sharp, it will use the shaman’s knowledge to serve you in my stead, and the Howling Moon Clan will forever follow in your wake.”

With dragonkind’s lifespan, if it does not die prematurely, and if the Howling Moon Clan does not perish, they will follow.

Under Luo Si’s wings, they will pass through dozens of generations.

The young shaman, the female wolf-man Frostfang, showed no fear; having grown up around dragons, she radiated only curiosity and awe.

She stepped forward to kneel in place of the elder.

She pressed her forehead deeply against Luo Si’s dragon claw, expressing loyalty and reverence.

“By the spirits of our ancestors, the Howling Moon Clan vows to serve forever as your claws and fangs beneath your wings—your enemies shall be torn apart, your lands guarded by us, until the last pup draws its final breath.”

Luo Si gave a slight nod: “I accept your loyalty. Rise.”

Frostfang stood and carefully supported the old shaman again.

Seeing the old shaman’s state, Luo Si suddenly realized: though dragonkind is long-lived, it is not immortal—there comes a day when even dragons reach the end of their lives.

Only after thousands of years, growing strong enough,

can life transcend into immortality, breaking free from the chains of mortality.

And this is one of Luo Si’s goals.

He did not wish to one day become like the old shaman.

Due to dragonkind’s unique physiology, age does not weaken dragons—yet when they reach a certain age, they inevitably enter the “Dusk” state.

Like during Dragon Sleep, dragons grow unusually weary.

A Dusk dragon feels soul-deep exhaustion, a longing to sleep forever; if it truly succumbs to that sleep, it will never awaken.

Eternal sleep is the natural death of a dragon.

Notably, if an Ancient Dragon can resist the Dusk state and wage war against it, it will survive further, evolving into an Elder Dragon, escaping the Dusk state entirely, becoming an immortal life, and stepping onto the Path of Immortality.

Every Elder Dragon stands at the pinnacle of the world.

Beneath the gods, no creature is stronger than an Elder Dragon.

Every dragon aspires to become an Elder Dragon.

As for matching the Dragon God—that is too distant. Even the most arrogant dragon would never set such an unreachable goal.

Luo Si calmed his emotions and scanned the wolf pack.

Frostfang’s oath still echoed in the air when a sudden commotion broke out among the wolves.

Manefire shoved aside the wolves blocking his path and strode to the center of the clearing, flanked by several loyal followers; his red mane burned vividly in the night, like an unquenchable wildfire.

“Dragon Lord!”

Manefire raised his voice: “Since you’ve returned, perhaps you’ll bear witness for me—”

He spun sharply toward Rasell, fangs bared: “I challenge this old fool for the chieftainship!”

The wolf pack erupted in further unrest.

The old shaman gripped his bone staff tightly, knuckles white; Frostfang’s ears snapped upright, her neck fur bristling slightly.

Luo Si narrowed his eyes, calmly studying the unfamiliar young wolf-man.

Though Manefire called him Dragon Lord, his eyes held little reverence.

He stepped before Luo Si—not kneeling, but standing tall, tail held high, radiating unshakable confidence.

“Show respect before the Dragon Lord! Manefire, kneel!”

Rasell’s eyes blazed with anger as he growled, then turned to Luo Si with deference: “Forgive this reckless wolf—he is young and crude, ignorant of respect and awe.”

Manefire grinned, cutting in: “The Dragon Lord won’t care about such trifles.”

“Rasell, stop pretending. You won’t accept my challenge because you’re afraid? Then just admit defeat and hand me the chieftainship.”

He bared his fangs, glinting with cold steel.

“By tradition, the challenge must occur on the night of the full moon.”

Rasell glanced at Luo Si; seeing no objection, he spoke.

“To hell with tradition!” Manefire snapped. “Aren’t you always saying the Dragon Lord’s will supersedes all?”

He turned to Luo Si with an exaggerated grin: “Great Dragon Lord, surely you want to see who the true strong one is?”

He used a respectful title for Luo Si, yet Luo Si felt no reverence in it.

And worse—

He presumed to read Luo Si’s thoughts, speaking as if he knew them.

This displeased Luo Si.

Have you ever been a dragon, to think so casually?

Luo Si stared at the young wolf-man.

He spoke slowly, deliberately: “You mean to say you are the true strong one?”

“Of course!”

Manefire straightened his chest.

What audacity.

Strong one? Luo Si rarely called himself one. He always saw himself as weak—never arrogant, never complacent—so he could respond to every situation with caution and avoid risk.

Now, a tiny wolf stood before him and declared himself a strong one.

It amused him, yet puzzled him.

Where did this confidence come from? No dragon talent, yet dragon arrogance?

Perhaps he had some hidden strength or backing.

(End of Chapter)