Chapter 201: The Bind-Ensnared White Dragon
Stuffed Bun grinned slyly at the two-headed dragon monster raging futilely outside the hole, completely unbothered by whether the creature understood Common Tongue or not.
"Hehe, I just love seeing that look on your face—hating me but powerless to do anything about it."
"You wanted to eat me, didn't you?"
Singo, meanwhile, ignored the spectacle entirely. His brow furrowed slightly as he turned to Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang beside him.
"War狂, do you feel it? That monster... it's afraid."
"Now, this situation is like a fox borrowing a tiger's might—we're the fox. But who’s the tiger hiding behind us?"
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang nodded solemnly, hesitating. "You mean... there might be something even more terrifying in this passage? Something that even this dragon dares not approach?"
"Something we couldn’t possibly defeat."
Singo stared into the depths of the passage, his expression alight with an almost manic excitement. "But extreme risk... comes with extreme reward. We've come this far. Dare we take the chance?"
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang rubbed his bald head, grinning. "I’d be thrilled."
"Stuffed Bun, let’s go."
The moment the words left his mouth, Stuffed Bun snapped back to reality with a distracted "Oh," and hurried after them.
The passage remained forged from black metal, its surface gleaming faintly under the flickering candlelight—cold, unyielding, and utterly impervious to any ordinary creature.
Yet the three of them couldn’t help but stare at the wreckage on the walls. Deep claw marks raked across the surface—each one stretching several meters long. The wall’s surface was pitted with countless indentations where teeth had sunk in, and several panels had been dented inward by massive impacts, leaving craters nearly five meters wide.
On the floor, dried bloodstains were scattered like dark constellations, mixed with shards of pale, cracked scales.
It was impossible to imagine what kind of monster could have caused such devastation—and what kind of battle had raged here.
Singo led the way, turning back slightly, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement.
"Guys… if I’m not mistaken, what’s inside here… might be a dragon."
"Wh-whoa—!" Stuffed Bun sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide.
Without a word, he turned back and scurried to collect every scattered scale, counting them carefully before dashing back with a grin full of triumph.
"Why are you all staring at me?"
"These are priceless materials! Dragon scales! If you don’t want them, plenty of others will. I’ll sell them to those gullible Daitou over at Magic Coin—profit’ll be insane!"
Singo sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Fine…"
"Now we need a plan. Just four-level amateurs… how do we face… a dragon?"
Silence fell like a weight.
Stuffed Bun stammered, "Maybe… we should just turn back?"
After all, since the Internal Test, players had only one reference point for dragons—Red Dragon Kai Xiusu.
That familiar faction leader’s presence during the Tiriel Battle had been nothing short of cataclysmic. His fire tornado had reduced entire armies—tens of thousands—to ash in seconds. The footage of that war had even gone viral online, with Live Chat screens flooded with “The budget is burning!”
And in the recently concluded Glacier Annihilation War, the Red Dragon had once again demonstrated overwhelming dominance—summoning a black storm that darkened half the Wahala Glacier, single-handedly wiping out the Frost Giant tribe.
For players like them—low-level professionals—such a being was nothing more than a negligible number.
But Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang chuckled, unfazed. "We’re already here. Even if we die, we’ll get the experience."
Singo turned to Stuffed Bun, smirking. "If you’re scared, feel free to go home."
Stuffed Bun knew it was a provocation—but still, he huffed and glared. "Come on! Who’s afraid? My grandson’s the one who’s afraid!"
"Alright."
The three pressed deeper.
The further they went, the heavier the invisible pressure became. It pressed down on their bones, a suffocating weight born not of air, but of Dragon Vein Magic—its essence radiating from their very bloodline. It was a primal fear, deep in the soul, a tremor that crawled up their spines.
Only a True Dragon could exert such dominance over lesser beings.
As if sensing their approach, a low, guttural growl echoed from within the passage. The sound was raspy, as if torn from the depths of a throat, chilling in a way that made the hairs on their arms stand on end.
Singo broke into a cold sweat, yet he forced himself to stay calm.
"Keep moving. It’s close."
They stepped into a vast chamber, and the world opened before them.
Stuffed Bun’s eyes widened in shock. He let out a gasp.
"It’s… really… a dragon."
Before them, in the center of a cavernous hall stretching hundreds of meters wide, lay a White Dragon.
Its body, nearly fifteen meters long, was wrapped in shimmering, pure-white scales. Muscular and broad, it had a short neck and a thick, powerful tail. Its head was rounded, with a small, sharp beak-like snout and a pronounced chin. A crown of backward-curving spines arched over its skull. Its face was lined with armored scales, adorned with multiple spines drooping from its jaw, and jagged teeth jutted out even when its mouth was closed.
A classic White Dragon—the weakest among the Five-Colored Dragons, yet still a force capable of annihilating entire Northern Region towns.
But now, the creature looked broken.
Beneath it lay a complex Rune Array, and countless invisible Magical Chains—like ethereal serpents—wrapped tightly around its body, pinning it in place, utterly unable to move.
Nearly a hundred Syringes pierced through gaps in its scales, embedded deep into its flesh, siphoning its precious dragon blood into a network of machines.
The dragon’s body was a battlefield of wounds. Hundreds of scales had been torn off, their underlying flesh ripped away, leaving deep, oozing wounds. The ground was littered with experimental equipment—knives, syringes, bone saws—evidence of brutal, relentless trials conducted on its form.
Yet even in this state, the White Dragon retained a terrifying vitality. Though asleep, its heart thudded slowly and heavily through the chamber, and its breath exhaled a freezing, numbing cold that made the Kill Credit on their skin crawl.
Stuffed Bun crept forward, tiptoeing with care.
Near the dragon’s front claws stood a metal plaque—different from the ones they’d seen before.
This one bore deep bite marks, streaks of dried blood, and a cracked, mended fracture. Yet after repairs, it still stood proudly in place.
Number One: [White Dragon “Tiniya”]
"She is so beautiful… I’m intoxicated by her sleeping grace, even more by her frenzied struggle. Without the spell restraining me, her claws would’ve torn me apart in an instant."
"Ah… the perfect specimen. The key to my great evolution. A White Dragon… with faint ancestral bloodline. — Wagner, Third Era, 1346th Year, January 1st."
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
