The Ugly Little Snake: My Dragon Son | Chapter 86 | The Moon Lake Wedding | Novela.app

Chapter 86 - The Moon Lake Wedding The silver moonlight spilled across the surface of Moon Lake like a shattered mirror, casting a surreal, ethereal glow over the forest clearing. It was a night of celebration, a rare moment of tranquility in the ever-turbulent lives of the forest's inhabitants. The wedding was in full swing, though it was perhaps the most peculiar ceremony the Three Realms had ever witnessed, blending ancient forest traditions with a bizarre, alien influence that had recently taken root in these woods. Leng Qingqing, now officially referred to in this strange local dialect as "She-Jiale," sat perched on a moss-covered boulder at the water's edge. He was currently occupied with a wild pear, though his eyes frequently rolled toward the sky in exasperation. Beside him, Leng Jing—or "Long-Xihua," as the locals now insisted on calling him—looked remarkably bored. The young dragon leaned back against a gnarled willow tree, his gaze tracking the ripples on the lake with a detached, regal indifference. "I still cannot wrap my head around these names," Leng Qingqing muttered, wiping a stray drop of pear juice from his chin. "She-Jiale? It sounds like a brand of household detergent or a cheap tea shop in the capital. And Long-Xihua? Jing-er, you sound like a character from one of those translated Western fables the merchants bring from across the sea." Leng Jing didn't move, his voice cool and steady. "It is the 'Father God’s' doing. Whoever this mysterious figure is, they have a strange obsession with renaming the world in their own image. Gabriel, Raphael... and now us. It is a form of linguistic conquest, a way to strip the past from these creatures and replace it with his own narrative." Across the clearing, the groom and his best man were busy attending to the guests. Xiong-Bailie, the massive black bear formerly known as Xiong Xiazi, was attempting to squeeze his immense bulk into a vest made of woven vines and silk-grass, looking every bit the 'Gabriel' he was now proclaimed to be. Beside him, the white marten, Diao-Feier, darted around with frantic energy, his fur groomed to a high, snowy sheen. He had fully embraced his new identity as 'Raphael,' acting as the self-appointed master of ceremonies for the woodland nuptials. The festive atmosphere, filled with the scent of pine needles and sweet honey, was abruptly shattered. The air grew heavy, the cheerful chirping of crickets silenced by a sudden, oppressive chill that swept through the trees. From the deep shadows of the ancient oaks, several figures emerged as if manifesting from the darkness itself. They were draped in heavy, obsidian-colored robes that seemed to swallow the moonlight, their faces obscured by deep hoods. These were the Divine Envoys, the feared messengers of the Wrathful King. "By the decree of the Father God," the lead envoy intoned, his voice sounding like dry parchment rubbing together in a tomb, "this Moon Lake and all its surrounding territories are hereby reclaimed. All creatures residing within these borders are to submit to the sovereign will of the Wrathful King or face the absolute purification of the void." Leng Qingqing paused his eating, a look of genuine annoyance crossing his handsome features. "Purification? Reclaimed? We were right in the middle of a wedding toast. Don't you people have any sense of timing or basic social etiquette?" The lead envoy turned his hooded gaze toward them, a faint, sickly green light flickering within the darkness of his cowl. "You dare speak back to a Divine Envoy? You, She-Jiale, and the one called Long-Xihua—your names are already inscribed upon the Register of the Father God. You are but pawns in his grand design, destined to serve or be erased." Leng Jing stood up slowly. He didn't draw a sword, and the ground beneath him didn't shake, yet the very atmosphere seemed to bow in his presence. As the Primordial Dragon God, he found the concept of a 'Father God' claiming his domain to be more than just an insult; it was a cosmic absurdity. "Grand design?" Leng Jing asked softly, his voice carrying a weight that made the envoys flinch despite their supposed divine mandate. "I have witnessed the birth and death of stars. I have walked the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths when the 'Father God' you speak of was nothing more than a stray thought lost in the chaos of the void. Tell me, does your King Nu truly believe he can own the moon, the water, and the souls of those who dwell here?" The envoys bristled, drawing curved blades that shimmered with an unholy, dark radiance. "Blasphemy! The Father God is the architect of the new order! The Wrathful King is his chosen sword, sent to prune the withered branches of this world!" "Then it seems the sword is in need of a sharp lesson," Leng Jing remarked. The Divine Envoys lunged, their movements blurred by dark magic, appearing like streaks of shadow against the moonlit grass. But to Leng Jing, they were moving with the agonizing slowness of insects trapped in amber. With a casual flick of his wrist, a wave of pure, golden energy erupted from his palm. It wasn't a lethal strike, but a dismissal—a rejection of their very presence. The envoys were sent flying backward, crashing through the dense underbrush like discarded dolls, their dark robes fluttering uselessly in the wind. "Go back to your Wrathful King," Leng Jing said, his eyes glowing with a faint, draconic light that outshone the moon. "Tell him that Long-Xihua is not a pawn to be moved. And tell your Father God that his naming sense is as wretched as his ambition." Leng Qingqing chuckled, tossing his pear core into the lake with a satisfying splash. "Well said, Jing-er. Now, can we please get back to the celebration? I believe Xiong-Bailie spent all afternoon gathering the finest mountain honey for the cake, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste over a few gloomy cultists." The forest began to breathe again as the dark presence faded into the night. The wedding guests, initially paralyzed by terror, began to emerge from their hiding spots. The absurdity of their new names and the gravity of the looming threat mingled in the cool night air, leaving a lingering sense that this was merely the opening act of a much larger, more dangerous confrontation.