The raging torrent of flames mixed with tons of oxygen—dazzling light, a city-burning inferno! A tornado of light and fire erupted from Xia Mi’s outstretched palm, a perfect overlap of two Yanlings—unparalleled, a match made in heaven!
The fiery tornado drilled directly between the dragon’s eyes. The intense heat and pressure acted simultaneously—not as a napalm bomb this time, but like a high-powered laser!
The tornado pierced a hole through the dragon’s skull, and the heat entered deep into its cranial cavity, burning its nerves. Despite its mighty body, it couldn’t resist the agony of its nerves being scorched. Its anguished cries were somewhere between human and beast, filled with hatred and madness. Lu Mingfei covered his ears tightly, unable to bear the sound. Although this dangerous creature’s roar was deafening, it was like the mournful wailing of a cat being tormented.
The dragon fell onto the platform, rolling over while clutching its head with its wings. Its massive body slammed against the ground, scales shattered, and blood flowed everywhere.
It was a hellish scene.
“Chu Zihang!” Xia Mi shouted.
Chu Zihang suddenly regained consciousness from his extreme exhaustion. The dragon wasn’t dead yet, and the mission was not over.
With dragons, you always had to make sure their life force was completely extinguished. This was what the college taught every agent of the Execution Bureau, because humans could never know how many secrets lay hidden within a dragon’s body.
Chu Zihang opened the black box—alchemical blade: Seven Deadly Sins!
He raised his blood-covered hand and slapped it against the scabbard. With a wild, draconic roar, the blades were unsheathed.
The Han sword “Pride” and the katana “Envy”—two cardinal sins, two punishments. Chu Zihang wielded both blades in his hands, swooping down like an eagle. His purified bloodline now allowed him to draw “Envy,” though barely. The barbs on the hilt pierced his palms, but he threw the pain aside, leaping onto the platform and into the air. He thrust both swords into the dragon’s eyes. The dragon struggled and reared up, letting out a heart-wrenching howl. It stretched its neck to the limit, opening its mouth wide in rage, aiming at Xia Mi, who was still floating in the air.
Its mouth opened to an enormous degree—its jaw structure was like a giant serpent, allowing it to gape almost 180 degrees, as if it could swallow an entire subway train. Its serrated teeth bared like a cluster of spears aimed at Xia Mi.
It focused all its hatred on Xia Mi—this strike carried all its remaining strength. It was a dying dragon’s final fury, straining forward as if it would tear its fused spine from the rock.
But it missed. It was already blind. “Seven Deadly Sins” was a lethal weapon against dragons. Moments after the blades pierced its eyes, the crimson red of blood filled the dragon’s pupils. A massive force erupted from the depths of its eyes, and foul blood gushed out along the ruptured openings like oil from a drill, ejecting the swords. Chu Zihang, rather than evading when the dragon lifted its head, grabbed the hilt and was carried into the air. He caught hold of the bony protrusion on the dragon’s face, standing atop its head.
He caught the blood-soaked swords in mid-air and plunged them both into the crack in the dragon’s skull. This strike pierced directly into the brainstem, destroying its entire nervous system.
Chu Zihang leaped, landing steadily on the ground.
The dragon’s pouncing form froze, like a scene from an oil painting—a black dragon reaching towards an angel hovering in the air. The frame was frozen at the moment just before the black dragon could touch the angel, who was engulfed in raging wind and fire, standing motionless, seemingly pitying the ignorance of the giant beast. The dragon’s serpent-like neck drooped, and it fell heavily onto the platform, its massive black wings turning over and covering its body.
The domain disintegrated, and Xia Mi finally couldn’t sustain “Wind King’s Eyes” any longer. She fell straight down, and Chu Zihang rushed forward to catch her, her body as light as a falling leaf.
“Perhaps it is because they do not know of dreams that wandering souls chase illusions.”
Watching the dragon fall on the monitor, blood gushing from its body, and watching the boy tightly embrace the girl as if embracing the entire world, Mai slowly leaned back into her chair, softly reciting this ancient waka. She picked up her hot chocolate, which had long since cooled, and took a sip. Perhaps because it was cold, there was a slight bitterness to it.
“Don’t get all sentimental. This is all part of our plan, isn’t it?” The girl with the potato chips patted her shoulder. “The villain behind the scenes doesn’t get to be sentimental.”
“Not too bad,” Mai shrugged. “Do you think we count as those who believe in illusions?”
“Everyone believes in illusions,” said Chips softly. “Without believing in illusions, you wouldn’t be able to live. Who can be sure that everything they know is true? Who can stop themselves from believing in something beautiful but unreal?”
“Yeah, dying before the illusion shatters would be good,” Mai said, gazing at the monitor screen.
Chu Zihang looked down at his chest, hot blood slowly seeping out from a massive wound. If it weren’t for the sharp claw lodged there, all the blood in his heart would have drained in an instant.
“Didn’t expect this?” Xia Mi asked softly.
The girl who had fallen into Chu Zihang’s arms was no longer the angelic figure. She was naked, petite, but her body was iron-blue. As she breathed, sharp scales slowly extended. The scales that pierced her skin tore her Bohemian dress into shreds, and black claws had replaced her previously trimmed toenails. Her right claw had pierced Chu Zihang’s left chest, and her claws were lodged into his knees. She tilted her head, looking at Chu Zihang as if admiring his pain, her golden pupils carrying a cold smile.
Lu Mingfei, who should have rushed in to awkwardly stand as a “third wheel,” instead stood dumbfounded at a distance, unable to believe his eyes.
“Your true name,” Chu Zihang rasped.
Xia Mi suddenly withdrew her claw. Chu Zihang pressed his palm to his wound, trying to prevent all the blood from gushing out in an instant. He staggered back a few steps, collapsing weakly to the ground, his blood-stained face expressionless. He just stared at Xia Mi, trying to get a good look at who—or what—she really was before his blood ran dry.
Xia Mi walked slowly to the dead dragon, caressing its massive head. “He is my brother, the dragon called ‘Fenrir,’ King of Earth and Mountains.”
“Fenrir, the wolf in Norse mythology, born of the evil god Loki and the giantess Angrboda,” Chu Zihang whispered.
“Yes, so you’ve guessed my name, haven’t you?” Xia Mi turned her head and smiled at Chu Zihang.