Dragon's Home

A terrifying silence swirled around the arena, like an invisible monster that had swallowed all whispers, leaving only the silent, desolate crows. Candlelight flowed like liquid gold, filling the stone slabs, like fine wine, brilliantly overflowing.

Fang Heng lowered his head, fine strands of hair falling from the youth's forehead, reflecting the crisscrossing light. He gently swept his hand across the golden shell, and with a soft click, the dial retracted inward as the gilded leaves closed.

He didn't spare the Eternal Worm another glance, turned, flicked his robe, and strode off the stage.

Tian Lan let out a scream and ran over, hugging him. "Heavens, Brother Ed, you did it! How did you do it? That was amazing, just like that!"

That "just like that" made Fang Heng so nervous he almost died. He quickly shushed her, making eye contact.

Tian Lan stuck out her tongue sheepishly, carefully glancing around before quietly correcting herself, "Shaya... it's Shaya, I know."

Luo Yu, Hudi, and Etila walked over, followed by the short Jita and that Paparal crossbowman. Etila then glared at Tian Lan, immediately making the latter behave.

Fang Heng placed his hands on the latches on either side of the universal joint, pressed down, and with a click, his gloves came off. He picked them up and handed them back to Luo Yu. "Thank you."

But Luo Yu shook his head. "They're not much use to me anyway. I'm giving them to you."

Fang Heng froze, looking at him while holding the gloves. Suddenly, he understood something. "You want to become a Combat Artificer?"

A deep glint flashed in the youth's eyes.

Fang Heng understood. He suddenly took back the gloves, grinned, and said, "I'll help you."

Luo Yu looked at him in surprise.

"But the key still depends on you."

"I... I naturally understand," Luo Yu said, a little flustered. Fang Heng's previous performance had left a deep impression on him. "Mr. Ed, are you a member of Elite's youth training team?"

Fang Heng shook his head and replied with a hint of pride, "I'm on my own."

This statement surprised Luo Yu. He thought someone with his skill level would at least be a member of a major guild. Elite was the second-ranked guild in the country and, along with the Silverwood Spear, one of the major guilds whose sphere of influence was closest to Rainbow Bay. He had naturally assumed Fang Heng would be a reserve member of the Elite brigade's youth training team.

But not only was he not, he was a lone wolf.

"Your name is Ed?" Hudi asked in surprise at this point.

"Shh—" Tian Lan quickly gestured to him. "Keep your voice down. We have a grudge against the Silverwood Spear."

"We?" Fang Heng looked at Tian Lan strangely.

"Those two jerks from the Silverwood Spear bumped into Tata and didn't even apologize, so we have a grudge," the French Girl replied, hands on her hips, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Was it really okay to make enemies so easily? The Silverwood Spear was a behemoth. Hudi was also startled and his voice naturally lowered. "Ed, you're not...?"

Luo Yu also thought of something and suddenly interrupted, "Don't say it—" Hudi realized he had said the wrong thing and quickly shut his mouth.

Only Tian Lan looked at the two of them strangely. "What are you two talking in riddles about?"

Fang Heng was equally confused.

Only Etila looked at the two of them and said softly, "Let's go back first." The elven girl gestured to their surroundings with her eyes. The entire silent arena was coming back to life, and the hushed discussions were converging into a torrent.

And gazes were gathering on Fang Heng.

This startled Fang Heng too.

Only the Eternal Worm still stood motionlessly on the stage.

It wasn't until the referee walked over to ask him to leave that he seemed to grasp a lifeline, his flabby face quivering as he wailed, "I'm not convinced! He cheated... Mr. Referee, how can a construct be that agile?"

"And... it... how can it move on a spear? A construct can't self-balance in that situation. That guy must have used some means outside the competition. I demand a rematch!"

The gnome referee glanced at the fat man with disdain and replied coldly, "Who told you that was a self-balancing state?"

The fat man froze.

"That was manual balance compensation. You just needed to add two more axes."

"But Mr. Referee," a voice also came from outside the arena at this moment. Everyone turned to look and saw the woman who had performed excellently in the match—Blood Night Demon Moon. She asked, "Every additional control axis doubles the amount of control required."

"So, this is all that's needed."

The gnome referee lightly waved his gloved right hand, and three Clockwork Sprites flew out from behind him, buzzing around him. The short man then turned to look at the Eternal Worm again. "Flexible Construct, you haven't even understood the basic meaning of that word. Get down. You've lost, in every aspect."

"This is impossible... this is impossible."

"That guy, he calculated me..."

The Eternal Worm's face was ashen as it muttered to itself.

Meanwhile, the area below the stage was in an uproar.

At this moment, Zhang Tianmou was walking to the edge of the arena. The communicator in his hand was lit up, and a line of text on the screen made him frown:

'Fox: Captain, the target has broken away from us.'

Fox was the codename for his second-in-command. He frowned, lowered his voice, and used voice input. "Location?"

'Fox: Our people saw him go into the south corridor, but the ambushers there didn't find any trace of him... it's like he vanished into thin air.'

Zhang Tianmou sighed. "I'll be there." Just as he was about to leave, a wave of exclamations suddenly came from the distant arena. He paused, looked in that direction, and vaguely heard exclamations like 'balance compensation' and 'precise triple control.'

The crowd parted, ushering in a small group of people. Zhang Tianmou only caught a glimpse of a familiar silver mask before it disappeared into the crowd.

He shook his head, thinking the competition was quite lively, and then headed south without looking back.

The chief gnome referee, stroking his pointed mustache, led the way for a group. "Congratulations, Mr. Shaya—please come with me. The awards ceremony for the preliminary rounds is ready."

Fang Heng was distracted, sweating profusely as he looked at the crowd around him.

Etila found his expression amusing. "Don't worry, the people from Silverwood Spear aren't here anymore."

"Except for those two bad guys," Tian Lan added.

"Those two bad guys?" Fang Heng didn't know Wu Di was a participant in the main tournament yet.

However, he looked around and didn't see any figures in black coats. The military seemed to have already left the hall, which somewhat put him at ease.

"If you were so worried, why did Brother Ed put on such a big show at the end?" Jita asked softly from behind.

The question made Fang Heng scratch his head.

How could he possibly answer that it was because he got carried away, lost his temper, and it was all thanks to that detestable fatty. Besides, he hadn't expected the other party to be so weak, not even as strong as that Big Sister.

"It's all his fault for being too weak," Fang Heng said sheepishly, deciding to shift the blame.

Seeing him like this, everyone couldn't help but chuckle.

"Actually, it's fine," he comforted himself. "...I only want to participate in the qualifiers. After we get our prizes and the prize money, we'll leave this place. We won't attract any attention."

Jita opened her mouth upon hearing this but ultimately didn't dare to say anything.

Instead, a Paparal crossbowman squeezed up from behind and extended a chubby little hand towards Fang Heng. "Hello, my name is Parker. You saved my life, respected Combat Artificer sir—"

Tian Lan looked at the little chubby guy in surprise, wondering when he had become so polite.

He then heard the other party continue, "I mean, you wouldn't mind saving me again, would you? Letting a starving, pitiful, weak, and helpless Paparal share a bit of your dinner?"

Fang Heng was stunned for a moment, but he still shook the other's hand and asked curiously, "Your name is Parker, right? I heard Paparals eat seven meals a day—did you miss your meal? Ah, I forgot you're a Chosen!"

The Paparal crossbowman's bean-like eyes immediately welled up with tears.

He thought he had finally met someone who cared if Paparals had eaten or not, and in his heart, Fang Heng's status immediately rose far above the demon-like Tian Lan.

"No, no," Parker shook his head like a rattle drum. "That's not offensive at all. Even though I'm a Chosen, Paparals' innate abilities dictate that if we don't eat for three hours, we'll lose our strength."

"Won't you starve to death?" Jita asked softly.

"The 'starve to death' setting sounded flawed from the start," the little chubby guy replied quietly. "So I modified it to be more rigorous."

"I helped him discover that," Tian Lan chimed in, taking credit.

Etila could only shake her head helplessly upon hearing their conversation.

"You can change that?" Fang Heng was also surprised, but he still nodded friendly at the other party. "Of course, I don't mind. I've actually already eaten."

"That's great!" The Paparal crossbowman jumped for joy. "From today onwards, you are the best friend of the Paparals! I'll treat you to dinner, okay?"

"That was Brother Ed's dinner to begin with," Tian Lan corrected him, raising his eyebrows.

Fang Heng was listening to them bicker, finding it quite amusing. They used to argue with Miss Scarpe all the time until she couldn't help but resort to violence—

But at that very moment, a deep voice came from the side. "...Have you ever heard the shriek of a dragon, young man?"

Fang Heng stopped abruptly and turned his head.

He saw a tall man standing beside him, looking at him with dark, heavy eyes.

The man was like a majestic mountain, with bronze skin. His arms and cheeks were adorned with stripes, peculiar patterns extending over his firm and taut muscles, exuding an imposing pressure without anger.

Everyone recognized this person now—

The owner of this inn.

"Your Excellency...?" Fang Heng asked softly.

"Have you ever heard the shriek of a dragon, young man," Mazak asked, still looking at him. "...Behind the deep darkness, dragons spread their wings, amidst the gazes of the dead and the living, behind that realm, it speaks of the day they will return..."

His voice was calm, deep, and left a profound impression.

Fang Heng felt a faint warmth on the back of his hand again. He discreetly covered it, feeling a bit strange. Suddenly, an indescribable tremor surged through his heart, and he couldn't help but press his hand to his chest.

Thump, thump, thump.

His heart beat powerfully.

Everything around him seemed to blur, as if something was approaching. That colossal being shrieked and circled him, sometimes near, sometimes far.

Only an anxious voice called out to him, "Ed, Ed?"

Fang Heng gradually came to his senses. The illusions around him vanished into nothingness, and he saw Etila looking at him with concern, her emerald eyes filled with deep worry.

He looked around; everyone was fine.

Beside him, Hudi was still looking at him nervously. "Ed, why didn't you answer Mazak's question earlier? We'd be in trouble if he got angry."

"Tch, who does he think he is—" Only Tian Lan was indifferent.

Fang Heng was stunned for a moment, only to realize that Mazak was no longer there. "When did he leave?" he wondered blankly.

The old dwarf beside them shook his head and comforted them. "Don't worry, the owner here is like that, always mumbling. But he's actually got a good temper. You'll find out if you stay here long enough; he's a peculiar person who's easy to get along with."

"Peculiar?" Fang Heng felt a faint sense of strangeness.

He had a feeling that this inn had some connection to the crown mark on the back of his hand, especially this hall—

He couldn't help but look up at the giant dragon horns hanging from the dome. In the swirling mist, the dragon horns seemed even more lifelike. Looking at them, Fang Heng had a persistent illusion that something was watching him from behind the shadows.

That feeling sent a shiver down his spine.

He asked in a low voice, "By the way, do you know the origin of this dragon horn?"

The gnome referee shook his head and said dismissively, "Who knows? It's been here since the day this inn was established. Maybe it has something to do with Ximinna, you know those mysterious legends, but you'll have to ask the previous administrator of Elpaxin about this."

"Why?"

"Because he approved the establishment of this inn."

"What is Ximinna?" Parker whispered to Jita beside him.

"It's the homeland of the Dragon Slayers, located in the Istania Desert in the central region of the Kingdom of Kaolin," Jita replied.

But the gnome didn't want to waste any more time on this topic and turned back to the subject at hand, "Let's go, Mr. Artificer."

Although Fang Heng still had doubts, he could only nod.

Not far away, Mazak silently watched the group leave.

Behind him, a slightly stooped shadow emerged from the darkness. The candlelight outlined an old face. The old man looked at Mazak, his silver-gray eyes filled with reverence.

Mazak didn't turn his head. "Are you ready, Shayek?"

The old man nodded. "As prepared as can be, it's just..."

The former's steady gaze swept through the crowd, past the guards of several dwarves, and landed on the stone platform. After a moment, he asked, "It's just—?"

"Those people from the Silverwood Spear have been waiting for you in the reception room for a long time."

"Don't bother with them," Mazak replied. "Let them wait a bit longer. They're nothing but vultures waiting for a Taotie feast—By the way, have you seen vultures in the desert, Shayek?"

The old man paused for a moment, then shook his head. "It's been a long time."

"Me too," the man, as imposing as a giant tower, sighed. "Istania has become an abstract symbol to me. I still remember the silver sea of sand there, and things from my youth—"

The old man trembled slightly, cast a strange look at the innkeeper, and then lowered his head deeply.

Mazak placed his hand on his chest.

His palm responded with a strong beat, but deep within that sound, there seemed to be a trace of an unusual factor.

??? What do you mean by "embarrassing show-off"?