The Feeling of Soaring Freely Is Truly Wonderful!

Qing Hongyuan traced a final arc through the air, tucked his wings, and landed steadily on the ground.

The moment his feet touched the soil, he looked up at the sky, fragmented by the canopy above, and suddenly laughed.

At first, it was just the corners of his mouth curling upward, then his mouth widened to reveal his teeth, and finally, he burst into hearty laughter.

"Hahahaha—"

The laughter echoed through the valley, startling several birds resting in the treetops.

Qing Hongyuan laughed until he was doubled over, tears nearly streaming from his eyes, but he did not care.

He had lived for over forty years, and this was the first time he knew what it felt like to fly.

The wind whistled past his ears, the ground retreated rapidly beneath his feet, and the sky stretched infinitely above his head. That sense of freedom, that exhilaration, was beyond words.

"Father, take it easy." Qing Mufeng landed back on the ground, watching his father laugh like a child, and could not help but smile himself.

Qing Hongyuan finally managed to stifle his laughter, reached up to wipe the sweat and tears from his face, and looked at his son, his eyes shining like two stars.

"Feng'er, you fly around every day—is this what it feels like?"

Qing Mufeng thought for a moment and nodded earnestly: "More or less, but I'm not as excited as you when I fly."

"That's because you've been flying since you were six!" Qing Hongyuan patted his son's shoulder. "Your father here only learned at forty-something; how could I not be excited?"

Liu Yunlan walked over and looked her son up and down. The old lady's eyes were slightly red, but her tongue remained sharp: "Getting this happy over one flight—no ambition."

Qing Hongyuan chuckled, not bothering to argue.

Shen Wanqing walked to her husband's side and reached out to straighten the collar that had been ruffled by the wind.

She said nothing, but the tenderness and pride in her eyes were more moving than any words.

Qing Zhengyue stood to the side, watching his son's face, which was still beaming with joy, and nodded slightly.

The old man did not laugh, but the satisfaction in his eyes could not be hidden.

"How does flying feel?" he asked.

"It's incredibly convenient," Qing Hongyuan said. "The speed is more than twice as fast as on the ground, and the turning is very agile. The aerial view is wide, and the situation on the ground is clear at a glance. And—"

He paused, organizing his thoughts.

"If you can't win, you can run; if you can win, you can chase. Before, on the ground, if you encountered a fast enemy, you couldn't catch them and you couldn't escape. It's different now; the sky is vast for birds to fly."

Qing Zhengyue nodded and turned his gaze toward Liu Yunlan and Shen Wanqing.

"You heard him. The value of flight capability is not just mobility; it is a means of survival."

Liu Yunlan was lost in thought.

The old lady's Martial Soul was the Emerald Jade Snake, leaning toward poison arts and healing, and speed had always been her weakness.

If her sixth Spirit Ring could grant her flight, her survivability would increase significantly.

If she couldn't win, she could run; if she couldn't be caught, she could fly. No matter how strong the enemy, they would be helpless against her.

Shen Wanqing was thinking the same thing.

Her Martial Soul was the Jade Orchid, a pure support-type Spirit Master without any attack or displacement skills.

If her fifth Spirit Ring could grant her flight, her safety on the battlefield would be greatly improved.

A flying support-type Spirit Master was worth far more than one running on the ground.

"Title Douluo can fly too," Qing Hongyuan said, "but that's a matter for after level ninety. We are still too far from being Title Douluo to hope for that yet; we can only rely on external forces—Spirit Rings—to assist us."

Qing Zhengyue nodded slightly.

His son was right; the flight of a Title Douluo was achieved through the external release of Spirit Power, a capability only possessed by experts above level ninety.

Of the five members of the Qing Clan, he was the highest at level sixty-nine.

There were still twenty-one levels to go before reaching level ninety.

Given his age and talent, whether he could reach level ninety in this lifetime was an unknown.

But Spirit Rings were different.

Spirit Rings were visible and tangible.

As long as one found a suitable Spirit Beast and absorbed the right Spirit Ring, one could obtain flight.

This was the most realistic path.

After the joy subsided, they began to process the carcass of the Wind Wood Dragon.

A thirty-thousand-year Spirit Beast was a treasure trove, its value far exceeding that of the five-thousand-nine-hundred-year one from before.

Qing Zhengyue took charge personally, dismantling the Wind Wood Dragon blade by blade.

Qing Hongyuan and Qing Mufeng helped with the moving and sorting, while Liu Yunlan and Shen Wanqing were responsible for storing the dismantled materials into their storage rings.

This dismantling took nearly half an hour, focusing on precision.

The scales—the scales of a thirty-thousand-year Wind Wood Dragon—each were the size of an adult's palm, their edges shimmering with a dark golden luster, possessing immense defensive power.

These scales, once taken back, could be crafted into top-tier armor.

Qing Zhengyue peeled them off one by one, the total count reaching over two hundred.

As for the skeleton, the frame of the Wind Wood Dragon was as hard as iron, especially the row of spines along its back; every single one was a natural weapon.

Qing Zhengyue dissected the skeleton into sections, stripped away the flesh to reveal the white bone, and carefully stored them away in his ring.

The blood—the blood of a thirty-thousand-year Wind Wood Dragon contained rich soul power and was a precious material for refining high-grade medicinal pills.

Liu Yunlan took out a dozen jade bottles, filled them with the blood one by one, sealed the stoppers tightly, and tucked them away into her ring with the utmost care.

The Wind Wood Dragon had four legs, and each leg contained a dragon tendon; tough and elastic, they were the finest material for making bowstrings.

Qing Zhengyue extracted all four dragon tendons intact and checked them once more to ensure nothing had been missed.

Tendons, meat, internal organs, eyeballs, teeth, dragon horns...

Every single item was carefully classified and stored.

Even the teeth of the Wind Wood Dragon were pulled out one by one; there were over twenty sharp fangs, each one glinting with a cold light.

Liu Yunlan stood to the side, taking inventory of the materials. The old lady's eyes shone like a child's, and she kept muttering, "Good stuff, such good stuff."

Shen Wanqing helped nearby. She wasn't as professional as her mother-in-law, but she carefully stored every piece of material into her ring, separating them by category to make organizing easier once they returned.

Qing Hongyuan was responsible for moving the heavy items. The body of a thirty-thousand-year Wind Wood Dragon was massive, and even when divided into dozens of pieces, each part was quite heavy.

However, with his strength as a level 56 Soul King, moving these things was not a struggle for him.

Qing Mufeng was in charge of assisting, going wherever he was needed.

He collected the scales that had fallen off the Wind Wood Dragon and stacked them one by one.

After counting, including those his grandfather had peeled off, there were over two hundred and sixty pieces in total.

With these scales taken back, there would be enough to make a set of armor for every member of the family, with plenty left over.

Qing Mufeng stacked the scales and looked up at his family members, who were all busy at work.

Division of labor was clear, and everyone was performing their duties.

This was a team.

Just as he was putting the last stack of scales into his storage ring, his finger brushed against a scale at the junction of the Wind Wood Dragon's spine and neck.

The texture of that scale felt wrong.

It wasn't hard and cold like the other scales; instead, it was warm and possessed a faint pulsation, as if there were liquid flowing inside it.

Qing Mufeng's finger froze.