Dragon's Homeland

A terrible silence coiled through the arena, like an invisible beast swallowing every stray whisper until all was deathly still. Candlelight flowed in pools of molten gold across the flagstones like spilled wine, brilliant and overflowing.

Fang Heng lowered his head, loose strands of hair falling over the boy's forehead and catching the interwoven light. With a light sweep of his hand across the clear golden casing, there was a soft click as the dial spun back into place beneath its closing gilded leaves.

Without sparing Eternal Worm another glance, he turned, flicked his robe, and walked off the field.

Azure let out a scream and ran over to throw her arms around him. "Oh my god, Ed, you did it! How did you do that? That was amazing! Just like that!"

That alone scared Fang Heng half to death. He hurriedly raised a finger to his lips and gave her a meaningful look.

Azure stuck out her tongue sheepishly, cautiously glanced around, then lowered her voice. "Shaya... it was Shaya. I understand."

Luo Yu, Hudi, and Etila came up to meet him, followed by the petite Jita and the Paparal crossbowman. Etila shot Azure a glare, and the latter immediately behaved herself.

Fang Heng pressed the latches on either side of the gimbal with his fingers. With a click, he removed the gloves, picked them up, and handed them back to Luo Yu. "Thank you."

But Luo Yu shook his head. "They're no use to me anyway. Keep them."

Fang Heng paused, holding the gloves as he looked at him. Then he suddenly understood. "You want to become a Combat Artificer?"

A deep light flashed through the young man's eyes.

Fang Heng understood. He suddenly pulled the gloves back, flashed a toothy grin, and said, "I'll help you."

Luo Yu looked at him in surprise.

"But the important thing is whether you can manage it yourself."

"I... I understand that," Luo Yu replied somewhat awkwardly. Fang Heng's earlier 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 answered with a trace of pride, "I'm on my own."

Luo Yu was rather surprised by that. At his level, he had assumed Fang Heng would at least belong to a Major Guild. Elite was the second-ranked guild in the country, as well as one of the Major Guilds whose sphere of influence lay closest to Rainbow Bay apart from Silverwood Spear. Naturally, he had assumed Fang Heng was a reserve youth trainee for an Elite expedition team.

Yet not only was he not one, he was actually a lone wolf.

"So your name is Ed?" Hudi asked in surprise.

"Shh—" Azure hurriedly gestured at him. "Keep it down. We have a grudge against Silverwood Spear."

"We?" Fang Heng looked at Azure curiously.

"Those two bastards from Silverwood Spear bumped into Tata and didn't apologize, so now we're enemies." The French girl planted her hands on her hips, answering as if it were only natural.

Was it really all right to become enemies so easily? Silverwood Spear was a colossal force too. Hudi was startled, and his voice naturally dropped. "Ed, you can't be...?"

Luo Yu seemed to realize something as well and abruptly interrupted, "Don't say it—" Only then did Hudi realize he had misspoken, and he hurriedly shut his mouth.

Azure was the only one who looked at the two of them in confusion. "What are you two talking around?"

Fang Heng was equally baffled.

Only Etila glanced at the two and quietly said, "Let's go back first." The elven girl indicated their surroundings with her eyes. The silent arena was coming back to life, as hushed discussions gathered into a roaring current.

And gaze after gaze converged on Fang Heng.

It startled him too.

Only Eternal Worm remained standing blankly in the arena.

It was not until the referee came over and asked him to leave that he seemed to seize upon a lifeline. His fleshy face trembling, he wailed, "I refuse to accept this! He cheated... Mr. Referee, how could a construct possibly be that agile?"

"And... it... how could it move forward on a spear? A construct couldn't possibly balance itself under those conditions. That guy must have used some method outside the rules. I demand a rematch!"

The dwarven referee gave the fat man a disdainful look and answered coldly, "Who told you it was in a self-balancing state?"

The fat man froze.

"That was manually compensated balance. You only needed to add two more axes."

"But Mr. Referee," a voice came from outside the field. Everyone turned and discovered it was the woman who had performed exceptionally throughout the match—Blood Night Demon Moon. She asked, "Every additional control axis multiplies the control load."

"So you only need to do this."

The dwarven referee lightly waved his gloved right hand. Three Clockwork Sprites flew out from behind him, buzzing as they circled him. The short man then turned to look at Eternal Worm. "Flexible Construct—you haven't even understood the basic meaning of those words. Leave. You lost in every respect."

"That's impossible... impossible."

"That guy... he set me up..."

Eternal Worm's face was ashen as he muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, the crowd below had already erupted.

At that moment, Zhang Tianmou was walking toward the edge of the arena. The communicator in his hand was lit up, and a line of text in its window made him frown.

'Fox: Captain, the target has separated from us.'

Fox was his deputy's codename. Frowning, he lowered his voice and entered a voice message. "Position?"

'Fox: Our people saw him head for the southern corridor, but the men lying in wait there didn't spot him... He seemed to vanish into thin air.'

Zhang Tianmou sighed. "Wait for me." Just as he was about to leave, wave after wave of startled cries rang out from the arena in the distance. He paused and looked in that direction, faintly catching exclamations about "balance compensation" and "precise three-axis control."

The crowd parted, surrounding a small group as they emerged. Zhang Tianmou only had time to glimpse that familiar silver mask before it was swallowed by the sea of people.

He shook his head, thinking the competition was certainly lively, then hurried south without looking back.

The chief dwarven referee was leading the group ahead of him, his pointed beard lifted high. "Congratulations, Mr. Shaya—please come with me. The awards ceremony for the preliminary round is ready."

But Fang Heng was distracted, cold sweat covering his brow as he looked at the surrounding crowd.

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

"Except for those two bad guys," Azure added.

"Those two bad guys?" Fang Heng still did not know that Wu Di was a main-event contestant.

However, he looked around and did not see any of the black-coated figures. The military seemed to have already left the hall, which reassured him somewhat.

"Since you were so worried, why did you make such a big show of yourself at the end, Ed?" Jita asked quietly from behind.

Fang Heng scratched his head at that question.

How could he admit that he had gotten carried away in the heat of the moment? Besides, it was because that dead fat man had such a punchable face. And he had not expected the other guy to be so weak—he was even worse than that bossy woman.

"He was just too weak." Fang Heng felt rather embarrassed, so he decided to shift the blame.

The others could not help laughing at his expression.

"Actually, it's fine," he consoled himself. "...I only wanted to compete in the preliminary round anyway. Once we collect the prize and the money, we'll leave this place. It shouldn't attract any attention."

Jita opened her mouth at those words, but in the end, she did not dare say anything.

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

Azure stared at the little fatty in surprise, wondering when he had become so polite.

Then he continued, "What I mean is, you probably wouldn't mind saving my life again by letting a starving, pitiful, weak, and helpless Paparal share a little of your dinner?"

Fang Heng was momentarily stunned, but he still shook the other's hand and asked curiously, "Your name is Parker, right? I heard Paparal need to eat seven meals a day—you didn't miss a meal, did you? Ah, I forgot. You're a Chosen!"

Tears immediately welled up in the Paparal crossbowman's black-bead eyes.

He had thought he had finally met someone who cared whether Paparal had eaten, and in his mind, Fang Heng's standing instantly rose far above Azure, who was like a demon.

"No, no," Parker shook his head like a rattle drum. "That isn't offensive at all. Even though I'm a Chosen, the Paparal racial talent states that if we go three hours without eating, we lose our strength."

"Don't you starve to death?" Jita asked quietly.

"The starving-to-death setting sounded like it had a loophole," the little fatty whispered back. "So I changed it to make it more rigorous."

"I was the one who helped him spot it," Azure claimed credit.

Etila could only shake her head helplessly as she listened to their conversation.

"You can change that?" Fang Heng was shocked too, but he still nodded amicably. "Of course I don't mind. Actually, I've already eaten."

"Wonderful!" The Paparal crossbowman jumped three feet into the air with delight. "From today on, you are the Paparal's best friend! I'll invite you to dinner, all right?"

"That was Ed's dinner to begin with," Azure corrected him with furrowed brows.

Fang Heng listened to them bicker, and he actually found it rather interesting. Back then, everyone often argued with Miss Scarpe until she could no longer stand it and resorted to violence—

But at that very moment, a deep voice came from beside them. "...Have you heard a dragon's shriek, young man?"

Fang Heng abruptly stopped and spun around.

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

The man was like a towering mountain. His skin was bronze, and patterns were painted across his arms and cheeks. Strange markings stretched over his hard, taut muscles, carrying an oppressive majesty that did not need anger to inspire fear.

By now, everyone recognized him—

The owner of this inn.

"Sir, you are...?" Fang Heng asked softly.

"Have you heard a dragon's shriek, young man?" Mazak looked at him and continued to ask, "...Beyond the profound darkness, dragons beat their wings. Before the eyes of the dead and the living, beyond that land, they proclaim that one day they will return..."

His voice was calm and heavy, leaving a profound impression.

Fang Heng vaguely felt the back of his hand growing warm again. He casually covered it, feeling puzzled. But then an indescribable palpitation suddenly rose within him, and he could not help pressing a hand to his chest.

Thump, thump, thump.

His heart beat powerfully.

Everything around him seemed to blur, as though something was drawing near. That enormous being shrieked as it circled him in flight, sometimes far away, sometimes close.

Only one anxious voice kept calling to him. "Ed, Ed?"

Only then did Fang Heng gradually regain consciousness. The illusions around him vanished without a trace, and he saw Etila looking at him with concern, her emerald eyes filled with deep worry.

He looked around. Everyone was perfectly fine.

Beside him, Hudi looked at him nervously. "Ed, why didn't you answer Mazak's question? If he gets angry, we're finished."

"Tch, who does he think he is?" Azure was the only one who did not care.

Fang Heng paused before realizing that Mazak was already gone. "When did he leave?" he wondered in confusion.

The old dwarf beside them shook his head and reassured them, "Don't worry. That's just how the owner here is, always talking nonsense. But he actually has a good temper. Stay here long enough and you'll find he's quite an easygoing oddball."

"An oddball?" Fang Heng found that somewhat strange.

He always felt that this inn had some kind of connection to the Crown Mark on the back of his hand, especially this hall—

He could not help raising his head to look at the enormous dragon horn hanging from the dome. Amid the curling smoke, it seemed even more lifelike. As he looked at it, Fang Heng had the persistent illusion that something was always watching him from behind those shadows.

The feeling sent chills down his spine.

He asked quietly, "By the way, do you know where this dragon horn came from?"

The dwarven referee shook his head and answered carelessly, "Who knows? It has been here since the day this inn existed. Perhaps it has something to do with Ximina—you know, those mysterious legends—but you would have to ask the previous chief administrator of Elpaxin about that."

"Why?"

"Because he approved the construction of this inn."

"And where is Ximina?" Parker quietly asked Jita beside him.

"It is the homeland of the Dragon Slayer, in the Istania Desert in the central region of the Kingdom of Kaolin," Jita replied.

But the dwarf did not wish to waste time on the subject and returned to the main matter. "Let's go, Artificer."

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

Not far away, Mazak silently watched the group leave.

Behind him, a slightly hunched shadow emerged from the darkness. Candlelight outlined an aged face. The old man looked at Mazak, his silver-gray eyes filled with respect.

Without turning around, Mazak asked, "Is everything ready, Shayek?"

The old man nodded. "As thorough as possible, only..."

The former's steady gaze passed through the crowd, past the protection of several dwarves, and settled on the stone platform. He looked for a while before asking, "Only—?"

"The people from 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 while longer. They are merely vultures waiting for a sumptuous feast—by the way, have you seen vultures in the desert, Shayek?"

The old man paused, then shook his head. "It has been a long time."

"So it has for me," the man towering like a giant tower sighed. "Istania has become an abstract symbol to me. Yet I still remember the silver sea of sand there, and the things that happened in my youth—"

The old man trembled slightly and looked at the innkeeper with an indescribable expression before deeply lowering his head.

Mazak placed a hand over his chest.

A powerful heartbeat answered beneath his palm, yet deep within that sound seemed to lurk a strange element.

What kind of embarrassing showing-off was that?