What Are You Lost About?

Night had soaked through the entire bedchamber. Outside the window, the moonlight was faint, casting a pale glimmer through the gauze curtains onto the straight edge of Zhong Shenxiu's bed. He lay flat amid the soft bedding, with none of his usual battle-hardened chill about him. Only the confusion surging endlessly within his heart wound around his mind layer by layer, leaving him in a hazy, unreal dreamlike state.

He was only fifteen or sixteen this year. For the first nine years of his life, he had been immersed in endless nightmare battles every day.

There had been no rest, no warmth—only unending combat, shattered dragon phantoms, biting and collisions. Darkness and spear-light had occupied his dreams year-round, freezing his temperament far too early. He did not know how to laugh, did not know how to show weakness, and rarely even revealed joy or anger.

Then the Dragon Fighting Plane's origin had chosen him, placing the inheritance of the entire plane and the burden of its revival squarely upon the young boy's shoulders.

From that day onward, he had deliberately extinguished every trivial emotion in his heart, cast aside the playfulness, stirrings, and ease that a boy his age should have possessed, and immersed himself day and night in the grueling cultivation of the Eternal Myriad Dragon Source Art. He turned his own Dragon Power into a vortex, madly absorbing the origin energy between heaven and earth, repairing the shattered Dragon Fighting Plane inch by inch, awakening the slumbering Twelve Star Dragons, subduing the Six Great Black Hands, and commanding the Fighting Dragon Clan that had become stone statues.

In the blink of an eye, sixteen years had passed. The Dragon Fighting Plane had long since broken free of its decline and desolation. Its origin was steadily growing fuller, and