Is It Really That Hard to Seduce a Dragon? - Chapter 2

The falling snow swirled and drifted, landing on the thinly clad figure. As Ji Aqing moved with sluggish, deliberate motions, the snow fell from his shoulders and disappeared into the vast expanse of white.

Ji Aqing took a handkerchief, a mirror, a fire-starter, and a basin from his storage bag. He used the fire-starter to melt some snow into warm water, then used the mirror to carefully wipe his hair.

He wiped away the dried, crimson blood bit by bit. He unraveled his multicolored hair tie, washed it in the water, and used his slender fingers to comb through the tangled knots in his hair.

By the time the multicolored cord was washed clean, the cold snow had already slowly buried the winding trail of footprints and bloodstains he had left behind.

Glancing back at the path he had traveled, Ji Aqing fought down the itch in his throat and pressed a hand against his chest, which throbbed with waves of excruciating pain.

His fingers were bent at unnatural angles a result of the fracture caused by his excessive force and the impact when he jammed his dagger into the cliffside while falling. His hand was mottled with purple bruises and streaks of red, and blood trickled along his thin wrist, a shocking sight to behold.

Yet, his movements remained unaffected by his injuries. He worked at a steady, unhurried pace. He didn’t even wait for the wet cord to dry before weaving it back into his hair, inch by inch.

After finishing his task, Ji Aqing finally couldn’t help but gasp for air, choking on a cough. His vision grew blurry, and his body was wracked with chills. He tried to mobilize the spiritual energy in his dantian, but as with his previous attempts, it was in vain.

His shattered dantian was like a container with a massive hole; energy poured out as fast as it went in. The warm current he tried to circulate through his meridians dissipated before it could even complete a single cycle, leaving him with nothing but weakness.

“…” He let out a sigh and leaned against the windward side of the nearest tree, slowly sliding down to sit.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find a more concealed spot like a cave, but looking out from here in every direction, the emptiness made him suspect that the rumors about the Southern Cliffs were all fabricated.

Weren’t the Southern Cliffs supposed to be “teeming with vicious beasts, rife with murderous intent at every turn, and impossible to survive in, yet filled with opportunities”? Why was it that after wandering around here for three days, everything looked so desolate and bleak?

Although this had the benefit of drastically reducing the danger level for the severely injured Ji Aqing, it also meant his plan to “fall into the Southern Cliffs, seek adventure, find treasure, and heal his wounds” had effectively gone up in smoke.

Even the forest wasn’t dense enough. The howling wind cut through the trees, making the faint flame of his fire-starter useless. Without spiritual energy to maintain his body heat, the youth was nearly frozen stiff.

Inhaling the icy air into his lungs eased his dizziness slightly. Ji Aqing pulled a piece of paper from his bosom—a map specially treated with rare materials. It was only palm-sized, but packed with information.

The layout and title of the map were ingenious, with a variety of fonts arranged in a beautiful, orderly fashion. In the top-left corner was stamped an intricate, elegant font: Thousand Machines Pavilion.

Staring at this legendary treasure from the Pavilion which was said to have only been printed in a few copies and sent to major sects to record the locations of various secret realms and dangerous opportunities Ji Aqing remained expressionless.

The so-called “murderous intent at every turn” was nowhere to be found, and his plan to gain experience and treasure had failed. His gaze landed on the headline, “There is a Divine Dragon in the Southern Cliffs,” and he furrowed his brows.

This was the ultimate goal of his journey, yet now, it seemed like a pipe dream.

If I can ever get out of this godforsaken place, I will definitely expose the Thousand Machines Pavilion for their shameless act of printing fraudulent “secret intelligence”!

Folding the map and stuffing it back into his chest, he exhaled slowly, feeling his body temperature gradually slipping away as his limbs grew cold.

His body was reaching its limit. The redness in his eyes deepened, appearing as if they were dripping blood. Ji Aqing frowned and pressed a hand to his heart, hesitating for a moment before chanting an ancient spell in a hoarse, low voice.

He could distinctly feel his dantian begin to heat up, eventually turning into a burning sensation. Looking inward, he could see a faint golden light flickering where it had been shattered; the cracks seemed to be attracted by a powerful force, drawing toward the center to mend.

In contrast, his face grew paler, with cracks appearing on his skin as if he were a porcelain doll shattering.

It was excruciatingly painful, but his expression remained unchanged.

Though I know this is only treating the symptoms and not the root cause, and the mended dantian won’t last more than a few days, at least it provides a path to survival.

This was the contingency plan Ji Aqing had prepared in advance; it would at least ensure he wouldn’t die before finding the dragon…

Rustle

A sudden sound interrupted Ji Aqing’s sluggish thought. A massive shadow cast over his head. A gigantic, winding figure seemed to sweep past, the gale it stirred shaking the forest and bringing down a cascade of snow.

Ji Aqing’s heart jumped. An inexplicable premonition washed over him.

At the very moment his dantian was about to mend, he decisively released all his power. A sharp, violent pain tore through his meridians. The dantian he had painstakingly bonded together was shattered once more, fragmenting even more severely than before.

But Ji Aqing didn’t care. He simply waited for the terrifying cracks on his face and the flowing red hue to fade away, leaving his skin smooth once again, and then slowly raised his head.

In the snow, the disheveled human and the gargantuan beast in the sky locked eyes.

On the vast, desolate earth, amidst the white snow, the thin youth lifted his clean, pale face. His slightly reddened eyes shimmered with a shallow, clear wateriness, and his pursed lips looked somewhat stubborn, made even more vivid by the bloodstains.

With his movement, his hair crown, which had been wobbling since his fall, finally slid off, rolled into the snow, and was silently buried by the drifting flakes.

The world went silent. The sky’s hegemon, having inadvertently passed by, suddenly paused its sweeping flight.

There really is a Divine Dragon.

Secretly suppressing the clamor of his heart, Ji Aqing curled his fingertips slightly. His cold skin seemed to heat up with excitement. He suppressed the trembling of his body and counted in his heart.

He wasn’t sure if the creature would stop for him, but he was betting on it betting on the accuracy of the Thousand Machines Pavilion’s intel, and betting that the skin he wore, which had attracted so much envy since childhood, would be enough to draw him in.

After a short while, just as the sound of the wind seemed to fade from his ears and Ji Aqing was about to lose hope, the massive shadow disappeared from above. With his heart rate accelerating, he watched as the creature transformed into human form and descended.

In the vast, lonely world, the snow fell unceasingly, but the man now stood before the youth who was still leaning against the tree.

The tall figure blocked the falling crystals of ice for him. The man’s gaze was fiery, and his bright red robes fluttered in the wind like a dazzling sun.

“Thank you. You” Ji Aqing smiled. His pitch-black pupils were bright and crystalline. He pursed his lips as if wanting to say more, but his hoarse voice stopped abruptly before he could express his surprise or gratitude, trailing off as his wrist dropped.

Instinct took over.

The man walked over quickly, wanting to support the fainting youth. After repeated failed attempts where the youth’s limp body kept sliding down, he hesitated before scooping him up. The youth’s smooth, black hair brushed against the man’s cheek and neck.

The man’s movements were clumsy. The body in his arms was warm and soft, yet emitted a chilling cold. The youth shrank and shivered, his fingertips subconsciously clutching the man’s robes.

Cang Ming tightened his embrace, a flush creeping up to the base of his ears.

I have to get him warm, quickly.

Having made this judgment, he took a shimmering, radiant blanket from his storage space to wrap the youth up, and then held him close as he headed toward his cave dwelling.

“There is a Divine Dragon in the Southern Cliffs he is robust in physique, libertine by nature, fond of beauty, and burdened by heavy desires.”

This was a verbatim quote from the Thousand Machines Pavilion’s secret report.

When Ji Aqing woke up again, he saw the protagonist of the legend sitting at the mouth of the cave, some distance away, shirtless. The man’s broad back blocked his view, his shoulder and back muscles undulating as he performed some tasks with rhythmic, laborious movements.

He propped himself up, and the plush blanket slid down with his movement. His bare skin trembled slightly upon contact with the air; only then did he realize he was completely naked.

His movements paused slightly. The youth’s gaze swept across the visible areas of his skin with lightning speed, relieved to find no intimate marks.

The scene he woke up to differed significantly from the rumors and his expectations. Ji Aqing couldn’t tell if he felt relieved or worried. He pursed his lips, doubting his own charm for the first time.

No, it is impossible for me to lack charm.

So, the Divine Dragon must be exercising restraint while waiting for the right moment.

Taking into account that the report of a “Divine Dragon in the Southern Cliffs” had proven true, Ji Aqing was still inclined to trust the report’s assessment.

Indeed, the youth thought. Even if the Divine Dragon were truly “fond of beauty” and “heavy in desires,” there was no reason to jump a stranger the moment they arrived.

It still requires guidance.

He exhaled softly, his expression thoughtful. He didn’t pull the blanket up to cover his skin, letting it slide down further. He simply coughed a few times, his thin body trembling with the motion. He kept his head lowered while coughing, and when he raised his eyes, a faint, pale red tint shimmered at the corners of his long, narrow eyes.

Since he had intentionally made no effort to hide his movements, the man was immediately alert to the sound. He turned his head and looked over, his handsome face coming into Ji Aqing’s view.

His nose was bridge-high, his brows and eyes deep, with flaming red hair and a pair of equally brilliant, jade-like red pupils beneath his brows.

They really are red eyes, Ji Aqing blinked, surprised that what he had seen before forcing himself to lose consciousness wasn’t a hallucination.

“Is something wrong?”

Ji Aqing’s gaze was moist and bright, making Cang Ming’s fingertips curl involuntarily. He couldn’t help but recall the way the youth had looked at him under the tree, his eyes shimmering with that same faint, wet light.

He felt a bit uncomfortable.

Is he always like this, no matter the time?

Secretly calming his inexplicably racing heart, the man said calmly, “You’re awake? How do you feel? I gave you some simple treatment.”

He picked up something and stood up, walking toward him.

“I feel much better, thank you.” Ji Aqing spoke, his voice predictably hoarse. He coughed for a moment, the quick, light sounds echoing in the cave, almost drowning out the man’s footsteps and words of advice.

He simply acted as if he hadn’t heard the man’s words. He pressed his wrists harder to support his body, ignoring the large expanse of fair, glowing skin he was exposing, and said in an even softer voice, “You are such a kind person.”

The tone was melodious, and the hint of huskiness in his voice sounded like a hook to Cang Ming.

Cang Ming’s clenched fingers tightened. The object in his hand became somewhat distorted and wrinkled by his grip. His attention was distracted, and he shook his head, saying, “You’re welcome. But I am not a person; I am a dragon.”

He doesn’t even bother to hide his identity; he must be very confident in his strength.

Ji Aqing’s eyes flickered. The smile on his face deepened, and his voice turned into a mix of shock and adoration: “Right! You are a dragon! Then you must be a very handsome and kind dragon. Your medical skills must be amazing, too, to have been able to save me!”

After waking up, he had circulated his spiritual energy through his body for a cycle. To his surprise, every place the warm current passed was now completely unobstructed.

Although the channels were still somewhat narrow and sluggish, it was a sense of fluidity he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

How did this dragon do it? It’s so effective. Ji Aqing lowered his eyes, his long lashes concealing the joy in his gaze.

“Not really,” Cang Ming said, not taking credit. “Your injuries were too severe. All I could do was alleviate them. If you want further treatment, we’ll need to find the right medicine.”

“What kind of medicine?” Ji Aqing asked, following the topic, his calm expression masking the surging, turbulent emotions within him.

“I don’t know,” the dragon replied. He wasn’t a Wood-element dragon skilled in medicine. Thinking of the mess of meridians and the shattered inner core he had seen during the treatment, his heart filled with a pang of pity. “Don’t rush. Focus on healing your body first.”

As he spoke, he was already right in front of him.

The man had a tall, imposing stature. Ji Aqing looked up, only then noticing the man’s bare upper body. His physique was well-proportioned and robust, his muscle lines smooth and aesthetically pleasing, full of power.

Despite the cold weather, the man had broken into a light sweat. Beads of sweat rolled down as he walked, flowing through the hollow of his chest, growing smaller and smaller until they evaporated by the time they reached his abdominal muscles.

Just as the report said.

Ji Aqing pondered silently, his gaze examining the man’s vivid and well-developed flesh without avoidance. The oblivious Divine Dragon squatted down in front of him and opened his hands, revealing a crumpled piece of paper.

Ji Aqing’s eyes shifted with the man’s movements. He paused for a moment upon seeing the paper before looking away.

“It fell out of your clothes.” Seeing that Ji Aqing didn’t take it, Cang Ming reached out further. “It was stained with blood, so I washed it for you. But for some reason, the patterns on it faded after being soaked in water, and some of them turned into a mess.”

His tone was dry: “Maybe the quality isn’t very good.”

Hearing this, Ji Aqing, who had been racing his brain to figure out how to explain the origin of the map that recorded the whereabouts of the Divine Dragon of the Southern Cliffs and preparing for the man to question his motives was stunned. He hesitated slightly and asked, “What patterns?”

He didn’t know what kind of perverse sense of humor the Thousand Machines Pavilion had. To ensure the intelligence remained sufficiently concealed, they had cut the map into a tiny piece. Even though it was still aesthetic, in the interest of saving space, all the text was concentrated in one block, leaving no room for diagrams.

“Just these.” Cang Ming looked puzzled as his finger swept across the text of the entire intelligence report.

Ji Aqing’s gaze became subtle as he followed the man’s fingertip across each word.

The Divine Dragon, completely unaware, said with a tone of certainty: “These squiggly patterns must have taken a long time to draw, right?”

“…” Ji Aqing covered his lips with his hand, his coughing hiding a flash of laughter.

“If you draw them, yes,” he replied.