Soft and Hard Tactics!

As the last trace of lightning withdrew from the dark clouds, the cloud cover gradually dispersed. The White Flood Dragon was finally exhausted, collapsing heavily onto the ground, its chest heaving violently with every breath trailing tiny sparks.

It stared in that direction, its dark golden vertical pupils filled with fury, exhaustion, and a trace of undisguised... confusion.

The smoke and dust finally cleared.

Zhang Qingxuan stood there with his arms folded, completely at ease. He had not even shifted from his original spot.

That layer of golden light remained unchanged, identical to how it had been at the beginning in both brightness and thickness.

He smiled at the sprawled White Flood Dragon. Starlight fell across his shoulders and over the flood dragon's snow-white scales.

That night.

Zhang Qingxuan turned over the roasting meat above the fire and sprinkled on some seasoning.

Late at night.

Zhang Qingxuan crouched beside the campfire, turning the meat roasting on the wooden rack.

The flames licked the meat until it was charred outside and tender within. Fat dripped down with a sizzle, raising little puffs of white smoke when it hit the coals.

He pinched out some spices from the spatial Soul Tool at his waist and flicked his wrist, scattering them generously over the meat.

"Mmm, a little cumin!"

He leaned closer and inhaled deeply, narrowing his eyes in satisfaction. Then, as though remembering something, he turned to look at the White Flood Dragon lurking in the shadows by the lake.

"Hey, do you eat spicy food? If not, I won't add any." He raised his voice, the firelight illuminating half his smiling face.

The only answer was a splash.

The White Flood Dragon turned its head away.

It did not want to acknowledge this freak—this freak who radiated strangeness from the tips of his hair to the soles of his feet!

It had not yet recovered from the lightning strike it took during the day, and it was still weak.

But then, two scents wound their way over.

The first was the fragrance of roasted meat, the smokiness of charcoal mingling with the crisp aroma of seared fat, along with the rich, intoxicating complexity of spices bursting open in the heat.

The second was even more irresistible: the scent of wine—clear and refreshing, with the sweetness of flowers and fruit, as well as the mellow richness unique to fermented grain. It drifted into its nostrils thread by thread on the night breeze.

So... so fragrant...

The moment that thought surfaced, the White Flood Dragon violently shook its head, silver scales tracing scattered arcs of light beneath the moon.

No, no, no!

It was a flood dragon with dignity!

The overlord of this entire lake in Sunset Forest!

How could it be tempted by mere roasted meat and... and that intoxicating-smelling stuff?

Yet the scent seemed to have grown legs. It clung to it, circled it, and burrowed straight into its brain.

In the end, it could bear it no longer and abruptly lowered its head—

Splash!

Its entire snout plunged into the lake.

Icy lake water rushed in, finally cutting off that deadly fragrance.

The White Flood Dragon had just breathed half a sigh of relief when it heard that bastard on shore deliberately draw out his words.

"Waaah—so fragrant!"

Zhang Qingxuan sat cross-legged beside the fire, holding a skewer in one hand and a Green Jade Gourd in the other.

He first brought the skewer close and took a deep breath, then shook the gourd and listened to the wine sloshing inside before tipping his head back and taking a huge gulp.

"Meat smells great!"

He smacked his lips. "The wine smells great too."

"Meat with wine—"

He took another huge bite of meat, chewing with puffed cheeks as he shouted indistinctly, "Even—better—!"

The White Flood Dragon trembled with rage beneath the water.

It wanted to bury its entire head underwater, out of sight and out of mind.

But the instant it sank another half foot, the golden rope wrapped around its right foreclaw abruptly tightened. It had no idea what that rope was made of. It looked thin, yet it squeezed its bones painfully, forcibly yanking it to a stop at the surface.

Was this even human?!

Could a human do something this vile?!

"Want some?" Footsteps approached.

Zhang Qingxuan crouched in front of it, the skewer of roasted meat in his hand practically pressed against its face.

"It's delicious. Just nod and follow me. From now on, you'll have all the meat and wine you could want." The youth's voice was coaxing, overly clear in the silent night.

He paused, firelight dancing in his eyes.

"I can also show you a path toward the opportunity to transform into a dragon."

"What do you say? Food and lodging included, plus a bright future. Where else could you find terms like these?"

The White Flood Dragon abruptly raised its head, sending a broad spray of water flying.

Its dark golden vertical pupils glared fixedly at the smiling face before it. A low roar, heavy with suppressed rage, rolled from its throat.

"Roar—!" (Get lost!)

Then it stubbornly turned its head away again, leaving Zhang Qingxuan with only a cold, dripping profile.

The shore fell silent for a moment.

Zhang Qingxuan slowly, very slowly, rose to his feet.

The smile on his face gradually faded, like receding tidewater exposing hard, jagged reefs.

The air around him inexplicably turned cold. Even the campfire seemed to shrink back for an instant, its flames dimming.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, yet it weighed heavily upon the heart. "I spoke nicely to you, offered you good food and good wine, and even placed the great opportunity of dragon transformation right before you."

He took a step forward.

"Since the gentle approach won't work—"

Before his words fell, brilliant golden light erupted from his body!

At first, the light was gentle, a golden radiance unique to righteous Daoist arts. But in the blink of an eye, it grew brighter and fiercer. The gold faded, becoming a dazzling silver-white—the power of lightning compressed and condensed to an extreme, leaping and flowing over his body with a dense, violent crackle.

The White Flood Dragon's pupils suddenly contracted.

But what made even its soul tremble was the sight that followed—

Within that blinding silver-white lightning, a faint trace of purple emerged.

It was extremely faint, yet vast and majestic, carrying a cold, violent aura that stood above all things.

That was heavenly might, tribulation punishment, the force with which heaven and earth punished those who defied the natural order!

Though there was only a trace, to a flood dragon destined to face the Dragon Transformation Tribulation, that aura was a fear carved into its bloodline.

Zhang Qingxuan raised both hands. Silver-white lightning coiled around his arms, while that trace of purple moved deep within the lightning like a living thing.

"Then I can only get rough."

He stepped forward, charged, and threw a punch!

"Roar—!" (Wait! We can nego—)

The White Flood Dragon's roar cut off abruptly.

That punch landed solidly at the base of the horn on its forehead. It was not heavy, but a strange, numbing current of lightning penetrated straight into its bones and instantly spread throughout its body.

Every scale on its body jolted. Its head buzzed, and the rest of its words caught in its throat.

"Get lost! I'm not listening!" Zhang Qingxuan threw another punch at the same spot, using thirty percent of his strength this time.

As his fist came down, he shouted rhythmically, "Eighty!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

His fists fell one after another, striking its head, neck, and back with precision.

The lightning current did not injure it, yet it numbed its entire body until it convulsed, leaving it unable to gather any strength.

Even more terrifyingly, this guy had found a rhythm as he fought. Every blow landed on weak points where its muscles and bones connected, hurting, numbing, and aching all at once until it wanted to go mad.

"Eighty! Eighty! Eighty!"

Zhang Qingxuan grew more energized the longer he hit. Eventually, he simply leaped up and mounted its back, clamping its cold scaled body between his legs, grabbing the mane at the back of its neck with his left hand, and swinging his right fist in continued strikes.

"Feels great!"

"Nothing beats fists connecting with flesh!"

The dull thuds of fists landing and the youth's breathless laughter and curses mingled with the crackling sparks from the fire, sounding especially clear by the silent lakeside.

Cold moonlight shone down, and the lake shimmered with scattered silver light, reflecting the strange yet comical silhouette of a man and a flood dragon.

About the time it took for an incense stick to burn, the fists stopped.

Zhang Qingxuan shook out his wrist, jumped down, and crouched before the flood dragon's head to inspect it.

The White Flood Dragon had already rolled its eyes and fainted. Its tongue hung out from the corner of its mouth, while the spot on its forehead that had received special attention had even swollen into a sizable bump.

"Phew, that felt amazing!" He stretched lazily, his joints crackling as he looked thoroughly refreshed.

Then he seemed to remember something and tilted his head.

"Wait... it seemed like it was trying to say something just now?"

He propped up his chin and thought seriously for three breaths, then shrugged. "Forget it. Who cares? We'll talk tomorrow."

He kicked the White Flood Dragon's limp claw, confirming that it had truly passed out before clapping his hands and turning back toward the fire.

"Intense exercise right after eating!"

As he cleaned up the mess, he muttered, "I need a good sleep to keep my body and mind healthy."