A One-Dragon Service

"Monk, you and I just got here, so we shouldn't cause trouble. Go easy on him—don't beat him to death."

And especially don't pull out his dragon tendons. Your father is the emperor; there's nothing he lacks, least of all belts.

Lu Bei called out a reminder. After thinking it over, he decided it would be safer if he handled things himself.

Gu Zongchen was compassionate, that was true, but he was ultimately a Mahayana Stage cultivator. To the Third Prince, that was an attack from an entirely higher dimension. What if the Third Prince was just a silver-plated wax spearhead—pretty but useless—and died with a single cry?

Or what if the Third Prince was a strong contender to become the next master of the Dragon Palace, constantly locked in open and covert struggle with the First Prince, but had currently been poisoned by the Second Prince's frame-up and could only bring out one-tenth of his strength? What if he died with a single cry?

They were in an unfamiliar place. Who knew how many ways these despicable locals had to die? It was better to be cautious.

Gu Zongchen hit too hard. Lu Bei was different; he had always been good at bullying the weak.

Lu Bei stepped forward and gestured for the lighting technician to stay back and not hog the protagonist's center position. He put on Heart Moon Fox's sinister expression and said, "So you're the Third Prince. I've long admired your great name. My brother and I cultivate in a remote borderland and don't understand the rules of the Dragon Palace. Please be generous regarding our offense."

The Third Prince wore a cold, disdainful expression. A killing intent flashed through his eyes. "Rules are rules. The Dragon Palace and Human Race Cultivators are mortal enemies. Since