What was Cold Clear doing at home?
Cold Pure’s mind began to wander. The Medical Dragon’s chattering had yet to cease.
*This guy is truly sick,* Cold Pure thought, watching the Medical Dragon with utter boredom. The dragon had been pouring out his soul for three consecutive hours, reaching a state of near-frenzy. Cold Pure was the first person to ever listen to his "patter" for this long.
By the time Cold Pure had picked all ten of his fingernails, cleaned out his ears and nostrils, and finished scratching his scalp, he finally stood up out of sheer tedium. He noticed that the Medical Dragon, still droning on incessantly, seemed unable to stop—much like a patient in the throes of a seizure.
But what exactly did this fellow want with him? Cold Pure curled his lip, paced around the Medical Dragon’s residence with his hands behind his back, and then tossed out a casual, "Going to relieve myself," before walking away.
Not in any hurry to return home, Cold Pure began to saunter through the Dragon Palace. It was said that nostalgia was all the rage these days, and he felt like indulging. Of course, he also wanted to observe the daily life of the dragon race. Although he was the peerless, all-powerful Dragon God, he had never actually lived among other dragons and was curious about their routines.
However, the current Dragon Palace differed greatly from the one of old. The layout alone had been altered many times. The small courtyard where Cold Pure and Cold Clear once lived had been renovated into the Dragon Nursery, expanded to over ten times its original size.
The Dragon Nursery, as the name suggested, was where newborn hatchlings were raised. Today, it was decorated with warmth and opulence, draped inside and out with pearl curtains. Gentle and beautiful dragon maidens spent their days carefully tending to the newly hatched dragonlings and unhatched eggs. The outermost courtyard was where the young dragons learned and grew; it was arranged with great charm, featuring coral forests and gardens modeled after terrestrial landscapes. Specialized mentors were stationed there to educate the dragon cubs.
When Cold Pure approached the Dragon Nursery, it was dusk. The young dragons had finished their lessons for the day and were playing in the garden. These tiny dragons were only about the size of four-to-six-year-old human children, dressed in silks embroidered with colorful threads and gold wire. Each was as adorable as a porcelain doll, with small, budding horns atop their heads—a detail Cold Pure pointedly ignored.
Seeing a stranger enter, several young dragons showed no fear. They crowded around, blinking their large eyes and looking curiously at the arrogant Cold Pure. One bold child tugged at Cold Pure’s sleeve and asked in a milky voice, "Big brother, who are you? Are you a new mentor?"
Cold Pure cleared his throat. In his mind, he naturally viewed himself as a grand senior. Thus, putting on airs before the hatchlings, he leisurely recited a poem:
"I left home young and return old,
My accent unchanged, but my hair has thinned.
The children meet me but know me not,
Smiling, they ask: 'Traveler, from where do you come?'
Away from home for many a year,
Recent affairs have mostly faded.
Only the Mirror Lake before the gate remains,
The spring breeze hasn't changed the old waves."
Then, with an air of feigned paternal affection, he patted the little dragon on the head.
*Being a senior feels quite good,* the Ugly Little Snake thought with a hint of smugness.
"Don't touch my brother! You stupid White Dragon! Don't think you're so great just because your cultivation is a bit higher and you can make yourself look taller!" A slightly older dragon child pulled the toddler behind him. This bratty kid seemed to be the leader of the group; the other little dragons gathered behind him, making faces at Cold Pure and clapping as they sang:
"Little White Dragon, little dummy, pretending to be an adult, reciting old poems, what an idiot!"
Cold Pure’s face instantly fell. In all the time since his birth, no one had ever dared to despise him so—not the Heavenly Emperor, not Qu Yue, not even Cold Clear. Yet now, this little brat dared to challenge the authority of the Great Dragon God.
*You foolish brats, if this Dragon Lord so much as stomps his foot, your entire Dragon Palace will collapse.* Cold Pure stared down the child leader with disdain. After a long silence, he sneered, "You little runts. This Dragon Lord isn't so classless as to lower himself to your level."
"You're the runt! No! You're a son of a turtle! You son of a turtle, which eye of yours sees us as rabbits? You're an idiotic lowlife! Stop acting tough!" The child leader was fierce, hurling every insult back.
Another dragon cub lackey chimed in from the side, "Stupid White Dragon, how dare you challenge the Boss! The Boss is already a hundred and fifty years old! Hmph! He has the highest cultivation among us!"
One hundred and fifty years old. Cold Pure ignored this detail again. In truth, the actual age of the all-powerful Dragon God, Cold Pure, was only sixty.
Thus, the Great Dragon God reached out and suddenly pinched the child leader’s face, grabbing both cheeks and pulling them as he said, "You uneducated brat, didn't your parents teach you manners?"
"Go die! Go die!" The child leader struggled desperately, but Cold Pure’s strength was too great for him to move. He could only wail, "My father is the Dragon King! You piece of crap White Dragon! Just wait until my Father Emperor sends you to the Dragon-Guillotine Stage!"
Cold Pure tossed him aside, ignored them, and continued his tour further inside.
At the very back was Cold Pure’s former residence, now renovated into an infant room. Several dragon maidens were busy covering dragon eggs with warm silk quilts and feeding the newly hatched babies.
Cold Pure had never seen the original forms of other young dragons. He lurked outside the window, peering in. He saw dragon eggs placed in specially made pearl-and-shell warming racks, while the maidens held wailing little dragons wrapped in swaddling clothes, feeding them spoonfuls of fragrant, smooth congee.
One dragon maiden was holding a small Golden Dragon, bathing it in a golden basin. She said to the maiden beside her, "Zhu’er, look, the little Golden Dragon’s claws are already so sharp!"
The other maiden smiled. "Indeed. Young Master Golden Dragon is sixty-one this year, after all. In a few more years, he can go to the front courtyard to study!"
The little Golden Dragon let out a series of cries, appearing very happy.
Cold Pure’s expression turned strange. *A sixty-one-year-old dragon is only this big?*
Just then, sensing Cold Pure’s aura outside, the little Golden Dragon suddenly became alert. It took flight, baring its claws as it flew straight toward the window. With a loud roar, the window was blasted open by the force of its dragon breath.
And so, the little Golden Dragon and the Ugly Little Snake locked eyes.
"Ah! Who are you!" The dragon maidens were thrown into a panic. This was a forbidden area; no one should have been able to bypass the layers of guards and formations to break in!
"I am here to deliver a message. I have a letter from the Medical Dragon," Cold Pure said with a straight face. "A dragon plague is currently spreading. The Medical Dragon orders you to immediately feed the hatched young dragons Lotus Heart, Coptis, and Cold Jade Fire Pills as a precaution."
"Yes." The naive dragon maidens actually believed Cold Pure’s words and retreated to prepare the medicine.
The little Golden Dragon, however, refused to look away from Cold Pure. Suddenly, it lunged and bit Cold Pure’s arm, refusing to let go.
"You little yellow eel, get lost," Cold Pure said coldly.
The little Golden Dragon ignored him, maintaining its grip.
"..." Cold Pure fell silent.
Dragons were fierce creatures, possessing an innate hostility toward beings stronger than themselves. A newly hatched Golden Dragon was especially domineering; seeing Cold Pure made it feel incredibly displeased.
It was a Golden Dragon, the kind born only once every five thousand years, destined to be the Dragon God of the Three Realms. If it were to ascend the throne in the future, Cold Pure would be its most formidable rival, for the Dragon God of the Three Realms had to be the strongest of the dragon race.
Despite its young age, the little Golden Dragon had already mastered lightning spells. While biting Cold Pure, it repeatedly released dazzling sparks of lightning.
Cold Pure, meanwhile, pinched its tail and released his own electricity.
Soon, the little Golden Dragon was numbed by the shock. It would forever hold a grudge against Cold Pure, vowing that one day, it would make Cold Pure suffer a miserable death!
During his trip to the Dragon Palace, Cold Pure visited his old home and even enjoyed a meal of Dragon Palace specialties at the invitation of a dragon maiden who was infatuated with his looks. Through her introduction, he even managed to sneak into a palace banquet, enjoy the music and dancing, and even accepted a token of affection from her.
Everything was so leisurely, as if Cold Pure were merely a tourist. He even went so far as to chat, laugh, and drink with others, truly living up to his reputation as a former Martial Arts Alliance Leader.
It seemed the Ugly Little Snake was having a grand time. Now, let us look at Cold Clear’s side.
After Cold Clear had finished his pretentious pulse-reading for the Divine Physician, he nodded with a heavy expression, then shook his head. "Young Master, please put your mind at ease. This illness is nothing to me. As soon as my divine dragon returns, the medicine will cure the disease."
Then, with an elegant and moving smile, he flicked his sleeves and departed.
In truth, he didn't know the first thing about reading pulses. He was simply following the "Jianghu Survival Guide" Cold Pure had taught him: "When meeting people, put on a seventy-percent act; nod mysteriously and smile mysteriously; never lack dry coughs and cold sneers; keep your back straight and hands behind you; lift your chin and look at people askance."
Thus, Cold Clear began practicing on the balcony—dry coughing, hands behind his back, chest out, head high.
"I am Cold Clear, known to the world as the Transcendent Young Master. I have descended upon the martial world to restore order to these chaotic times and establish my ideal world of benevolence! Hmph, ha ha ha!" Cold Clear snapped open his fan and practiced his cold sneer. "Hmph, I want to be a Martial Arts Alliance Leader too, just like Xiao Jing. A flashy Alliance Leader! With many followers! Fame! And a wheelchair with hidden mechanisms!" he muttered happily to himself.
"Are you practicing your debut lines for the martial world, Father?" Cold Pure asked, poking his head down from the roof. He had returned with incredible speed—damn, this kid was getting out of hand, moving so fast he didn't make a sound! Cold Clear’s heart began to pound.
Cold Clear looked at him with a face full of black lines and gave a dry laugh. "Not at all, I was just catching the breeze!"
"Oh?" Cold Pure remained hanging upside down from the roof, watching him.
Cold Clear’s face turned bright red. "How much did you hear?"
"Not much, just something about a wheelchair. Am I really that obsessed with wheelchairs?" Cold Pure asked blankly.
"Yes! Otherwise, Young Boss, why would you take a wheelchair everywhere you go? Even if it was a gift, there's no need to bring it everywhere. Young Boss, you actually really crave being a refined 'Wheelchair Young Master,' don't you?" The gossiping White Marten stood up with a death-defying, smug grin. He was getting bolder by the day.
"Oh? And who is it that secretly collects their own nail clippings, puts them in neat little bottles, and takes them out every day to count which one is the longest?" Cold Pure countered.
"Aaaah! That's too much! That's my secret! Young Boss, you were peeping at me!" the White Marten cried out in exasperation.
The Cold family trio stared at each other. Humans—and dragons, and martens—always had some unspeakable private quirks.
Cold Clear smiled and tried to smooth things over. "Alright, alright. Xiao Jing likes carrying a wheelchair and measuring his horns, and the little White Marten likes collecting and admiring nails. It’s no big deal! As long as we get along! Although I don't have any special hobbies, I won't tell anyone about yours." He put on a "holy" smile that suggested he was the only one without quirks.
"Then, does whispering 'Daddy is the greatest, respect Daddy' a hundred times into the Young Boss’s ear almost every night after he falls asleep count as a special hobby?" the White Marten asked, squinting.
"Does idiotically picking out the longest strand of noodle to perform divination before every meal count as a special hobby?" Cold Pure asked.
"Does turning into a snake head in front of the mirror when no one is around and then scaring yourself half to death count?" the White Marten continued.
"Does practicing tying knots when no one is around and ending up strangling yourself because you can't undo them count?" Cold Pure added.
"STOP TALKING!!!" Cold Clear screamed, covering his face.
The Cold family trio proved once again that there is no such thing as a secret in this world.
"Fine, let's stop discussing these embarrassing things," Cold Pure concluded. "Father, I came back to change my clothes. I went to the Dragon Palace, and a fight broke out over there."
"What happened?" Cold Clear asked.
"During the banquet, the Demon Realm came to challenge the Dragon Palace directly. It's about to turn into a mess. The Demon Realm has surrounded the entire palace," Cold Pure explained.
"But what about that young master’s illness and his lover’s condition?" Cold Clear asked with concern.
" I'll be back soon. Let's go watch the excitement together!" The Ugly Little Snake was somewhat excited. "Tell the White Marten to pack the essentials. We're heading out!"
*What exactly are the 'essentials'?* the White Marten wondered, looking confused.
Seeing its puzzled expression, Cold Clear said, "The essentials are those few bundles of noodles in the flour jar! Bring them all! Also the quilts! Tea leaves! Hats and scarves!"
And so, the Cold family trio flew toward the Dragon Palace on the back of the White Dragon.
Meanwhile, the Divine Physician Xie Ting, who had been left behind at the inn, called out for someone out of concern for his lover. But the trio was gone, and no one answered despite his repeated calls. He struggled to roll off the bed, ignoring the sharp pain throughout his body, and began to crawl across the floor. Time was precious; he could no longer lie there. He had to find the dragon and the Transcendent Young Master!
After half an hour, he finally managed to crawl to the storage area near the door. Xie Ting’s eyes suddenly lit up—there, standing before him, was an exquisitely crafted white jade wheelchair!
*Fantastic! I can use this to get around!*
But whose wheelchair was this? The Transcendent Young Master didn't seem like someone with mobility issues. Could it belong to the "Cold Pure" he had mentioned?
*Anyone who can be a companion to the Transcendent Young Master must be a noble person of high character, standing firm despite their physical disability!* Xie Ting thought to himself.
***
