Is It Really That Hard to Seduce a Dragon? - Chapter 1

[Breaking News: Ji Aqing, the Young Sect Master of the Ten-Thousand Sword Sect, has been ambushed by black-robed pursuers and fallen off the Southern Cliffs. His whereabouts are currently unknown!]

The biting cold wind howled, shaking the residual snow from the tree branches and creating a cascade of frozen white icicles. Heavy clouds blanketed the sky, obscuring the warmth of the sun and leaving the entire mountain forest feeling desolate and lonely.

The silence was shattered by a chaotic sound of footsteps approaching from afar, causing the dead branches and withered leaves piled on the ground to rustle.

A figure, nearly blending into the mountain forest, trampled through the snow in a desperate sprint, leaving a long, winding trail of blood in their wake.

The youth’s pitch-black hair, pulled high into a ponytail, was slightly disheveled. The multicolored ribbon tied through his locks was stained with blood, and the ends clung to his sweat-drenched cheeks, making his pale complexion look even more ghastly. The snow-fur cloak draped over his shoulders hung precariously as he ran with reckless speed.

Behind him, a group of figures in black robes pursued relentlessly, their shadows stretching long across the snow.

Sheets of crimson spirit banners whistled through the air, pushing the falling snow into translucent vortexes as they joined the chase.

The trees in the forest groaned under the weight of the snow, their branches emitting creaking sounds. Every time the fugitive leapt, the snow danced, coating his figure and settling onto his cloak. The biting cold permeated his bones; the freezing wind made every breath feel as though the warmth in his lungs was about to be turned into ice.

“Ji Aqing”

The leader of the black-robed men raised his hand high. Several bright red banners snapped violently in the wind. The leader spoke suddenly, his voice raspy and deep, carrying a strange, rhythmic cadence.

He held up a lamp-shaped magical artifact, and his followers echoed his call some low and hoarse, others shrill and piercing occasionally interspersed with eerie, bestial cries that threatened to seize the soul of the one they summoned.

Ji Aqing’s consciousness trembled. A sharp, piercing pain, like an ice pick driving into his brain, caused a deafening hum to ring in his mind. He fought down the urge to respond, his vision darkening in waves. His eye sockets burned, and liquid flowed down, blurring his sight.

In the haze, he glimpsed a flash of crimson. Ji Aqing’s expression remained unchanged; he bit down hard on the tip of his tongue. The agonizing, heart-wrenching pain from the blood flowing from the corner of his mouth caused his pace to falter for a split second.

A glimmer of joy crossed the black-robed men’s faces. Just as they prepared to press their advantage, the figure ahead turned sharply. The ties of his snow-fur cloak could no longer bear the force of his movement and snapped; the cloak being swept away by the roaring wind to land on the ground nearby.

The stinging pain in his eyes forced Ji Aqing to keep them closed. Fine red lines gathered along his cheek, climbing all the way to his pupils. The dull, shattering ache rising from his dantian (energy center) could no longer be suppressed. He choked and coughed, and more bright red blood dripped from the corner of his lips.

Though he appeared to be at the end of his rope, the black-robed figures dared not lower their guard. They stayed on high alert, pressing in step by step.

“Ji Aqing—” they called again.

“…” The person being called wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand. The meandering trail of blood smeared across his skin, making his face appear even paler.

He swallowed the rising gorge in his throat, lifted his gaze slightly, and swept his eyes over these skulking figures. He smiled, his tone nonchalant: “Yeah, your ancestor is right here.”

“You—” One of the black-clad men flared with rage and took a step forward, only to be frightened back by the sudden glare Ji Aqing shot at him.

“He’s at his limit; he’s just posturing,” the leader said, his voice raspy. The subordinates raised their magical artifacts high and injected their power into them.

Flows of spiritual energy gathered overhead, pouring into the dark-red soul-summoning banners. The banners suddenly deformed and expanded, flowing like blood. Everyone’s robes fluttered violently in the wind.

They cooperated with seamless efficiency. The soul-summoning banners arranged themselves layer upon layer like interlocking gears. Their speed was far too fast; in the blink of an eye, the banners stood upright all around him, on the verge of forming a new entrapment formation.

The surging banners looked like dark clouds obscuring the sky, reflecting a sea of blood in Ji Aqing’s eyes.

There was nowhere to hide.

In fact, he had no intention of hiding.

A glint of light flashed in the eyes of the men in black.

As long as they killed Ji Aqing, they could return to report their success, and then.

But before their complacent, arrogant smiles could fully form, Ji Aqing who had been staring up at the banners suddenly laughed. His eyes held a hint of playfulness as he looked at them.

“Didn’t your parents teach you never to turn your back on an enemy?”

As he finished speaking, the leader, who thought he had finally forced Ji Aqing into a dead end, was struck with horror. He turned around abruptly, only to see that following behind him were not just his subordinates, but also an ever-expanding white robe, shimmering with blinding golden light and covered in dense, intricate incantations.

“The Heavenly Raiment,” the leader whispered, his expression dropping at the mere sight of it.

The Heavenly Raiment a top-tier Heaven-grade artifact. It was rumored that the soul-summoning banners in his own hands were made from nothing more than the scrap material left over from creating this very robe.

He never imagined that the Heaven-grade artifact, rumored to have been lost, was actually in Ji Aqing’s possession and that he had been wearing it like a casual coat all this time, leading them to be flanked from both front and back.

The group immediately brought their soul-summoning banners back to defend themselves, but it was too late. The Heavenly Raiment soared high above, radiating piercing golden light. The men’s own banners began to tremble and stir, uncontrollably trying to rise and follow the garment, hovering around it in submission. The brilliance was so blinding that they could barely keep their eyes open.

The black-clad men widened their eyes, desperately trying to recall their artifacts. Some failed to control them and were struck by the backlash of their own spirit-linked weapons, crying out in pain and revealing an intent to retreat. However, they were restrained by their leader and dared not pull back.

Taking in this scene, Ji Aqing blinked. His ears were filled with a deafening hum, and the blood trickling from his forehead wound seeped into his eyes, sticky and stinging.

He had become a bloody mess just to mobilize the power of the Heavenly Raiment. Yet, he seemed completely unaware of it. His gaze was fierce as he manipulated several artifacts; his hair danced wildly in the wind generated by the gathering power.

Heaven-grade artifacts were tyrannical. Once activated, they turned the surrounding miles into their own domain, and their resonance with the same source of power completely suppressed the soul-summoning banners, making them unable to unleash their full force.

The situation spiraled further out of control.

Seeing that some of his weaker subordinates could no longer withstand the pressure, their soul-summoning banners struggling to break free of his control and sensing the lead banner in his own hand, which served as the eye of the formation, vibrating and humming he knew he could not afford to delay.

The leader struck with ruthless precision, snapping the necks of the nearest, weakest subordinates.

Since he could no longer recall the sub-banners that had defected to the embrace of the Heavenly Raiment, he had no choice but to collect the gray-black soul bodies that the deceased men hadn’t even had time to fully manifest into his own banner.

“Kill the useless ones,” he ordered coldly.

His remaining subordinates, seeing the leader’s actions, had their eyes light up. They didn’t care about camaraderie; their eyes burned with bloodthirsty greed as they delivered fatal blows to their unsuspecting companions.

Dozens of black-robed men died in an instant, yet no disorder broke out in the ranks. They were satisfied to see their own wounds healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. The killers licked their lips with gluttonous satisfaction.

“Kill them all kill them all what beautiful, lovely heads.”

Watching the infighting succeed, Ji Aqing leaned casually against a tree, spitting blood while clapping and praising them.

He laughed heartily, his blood-stained lips curving into an impressively bright arc. Crimson blood dyed his teeth, and against the backdrop of the white snow, black hair, and red eyes, he looked as fierce as a ghost.

“Don’t engage him head-on…” The situation quickly stabilized. Hearing Ji Aqing’s arrogant remarks, the leader frowned and said solemnly.

However, before he could finish, a cheerful greeting came from behind: “As you wish. Goodbye.”

“Capture Ji Aqing first…” The rest of the leader’s words dissipated into the air as he turned around abruptly. He saw only a figure leaping gracefully off the cliff. The light, fluttering edges of the person’s robes looked like unfolding wings.

They outlined a tall, slender silhouette that rapidly plummeted downward.

The figure vanished, leaving behind only that last, nonchalant farewell, accompanied by what sounded like a sincere blessing: “I wish you all bad luck.”

“…”

Resentment surged in his heart. The man in black intended to chase toward the edge of the cliff to investigate, but he was forced to dodge repeatedly by the sound of something tearing through the air, drawing ever closer from behind.

“Retreat.” The space was compressed to the limit; if they backed up any further, they would be forced off the cliff themselves.

Remembering the legends surrounding this mountain, no matter how unwilling the leader was, he pulled back.

At his command, all the black-robed men formed a formation and retreated. Within the blood-like banners, there were faint, chaotic, and fanatical shouts, which were then suppressed by the dark light arising from the formation, sinking into silence.

Once they had completely withdrawn, the Heavenly Raiment, no longer driven by force, instantly lost its color. Its brilliance faded like flowing water, and it fell dully to the ground, kicking up dust.

Not far from the scene of the chaos, but in a more hidden spot, two figures dressed in plain white robes—who had kept themselves hidden within the forest exchanged a look.

After waiting a moment to ensure the pursuers would not return, they used their movement techniques to dash to the edge of the cliff. They picked up the clearly shattered Heaven-grade artifact and looked down over the cliff the abyss was shrouded in mist, dark and unfathomable. A faint trace of pity appeared in their eyes.

They were scribes from the Thousand Machines Pavilion. They were only skilled in concealment techniques, lacked the strength to intervene, and had no intention of interfering in the battle.

They only gripped tighter the manual in their hands, which recorded:

[Breaking News: Ji Aqing, the Young Sect Master of the Ten-Thousand Sword Sect, has been ambushed by black-robed pursuers and fallen off the Southern Cliffs. His whereabouts are currently unknown!]

[The Blood-Summoning Banner Array has reappeared for the first time in twenty years!]

[The Heavenly Raiment has resurfaced; the legend of the Ten-Thousand Sword Forest’s secret treasure is not a lie!]

Along with several other key terms, a booklet, and a shadow-recording stone.

Before quietly leaving, they turned back for one last secret glance at the blood-stained, devastated land, sighing to themselves.

They could only hope that the Ten-Thousand Sword Forest would not have to deal with funeral rites so soon after the last, and that it would not be disturbed again by rumors of supreme treasures.