Beast Valley.

Half a month had passed since the Toad King’s destruction.

Today was the day Yueyang and the Death Reaper Mantis were preparing to leave the valley. Over those two weeks, the two of them had explored nearly every corner of Beast Valley’s back territory, and had even paid a visit to the two-headed black dragon that guarded the Wisdom Fruit tree.

Wisdom Fruit, if Yueyang were being honest, was something he couldn’t work up much enthusiasm about.

The Sky Stairway produced a substantial harvest of Wisdom Fruit every year. Never mind the major powers — the Gold Elves, the Eastern Demon Clans, the Sea Tribes, the Demon Clans, the Underworld Clans — even some minor factions had regular access. If Yueyang wanted to trade War Spirit Pills for Wisdom Fruit, he could round up a hundred and several dozen from various tribal kings without breaking a sweat. Wisdom Fruit was only precious by Beast Valley’s particular standards. As for the Death Reaper Mantis — now a Sacred Beast who had received both the Sacred Wisdom Fruit and the Celestial Divine Brilliance awakening — her intelligence had already vaulted to somewhere just beneath Divine Beast level. Her power still lagged far behind that threshold, placing her in a sort of Quasi-Divine realm beyond Sacred but not yet Divine.

One or two ordinary Wisdom Fruits eaten now would accomplish essentially nothing for her.

So the fruit guarded by the two-headed black dragon held no real appeal for Yueyang. What he had done instead was negotiate a trade, War Spirit Pills for the dragon’s millennial-shed teeth.

“You’re getting the scales for free, the horns for free — what is this?” The two-headed black dragon was deeply aggrieved. It genuinely wanted to swallow this kid whole, or at minimum incinerate him to charcoal. Unfortunately that particular ambition was never going to be realized. As a creature that had guarded Beast Valley for tens of thousands of years, its eye for talent was sharp — even without the Laws’ protection, this young man was not below it in ability, and when you factored in potential and intelligence, his future was boundless. The dragon might very well need a favor from him one day.

So it haggled. “What if I throw in a vial of dragon blood? Horn, scales, and blood together — another ten War Spirit Pills. My blood carries the pure lineage of an Ancient Dragon. My father was an Ancient Dragon.”

“You must be out of your mind.” Yueyang refused categorically.

“Eight pills then.” The two-headed dragon knew nothing came easy with this kid, but letting those War Spirit Pills walk away would be a regret it couldn’t live with.

“No.” Yueyang didn’t bother countering. He simply turned to leave.

“No rush, no rush, let’s talk this through.” The dragon scrambled to block his path. “Two vials of blood, six War Spirit Pills, one pair of horns, a hundred scales.”

“That much gets you one pill.” Yueyang finally made a counteroffer — one that nearly gave the two-headed dragon an aneurysm.

“Do you think my blood is tap water?” it roared. It was an Ancient Dragon bloodline, however you looked at it. Two vials of dragon blood for a single War Spirit Pill — if that got out, it would be a laughingstock for the next ten thousand years.

“Take it or leave it. Two vials of dragon blood is worth nothing. If I had an afternoon free, I could slaughter a dragon myself and fill two full barrels without breaking a sweat.” Yueyang’s smile was icy.

“Don’t be like that. Two vials of blood for five pills — and I’ll use a Moonstone to cover the sixth.” The two-headed dragon decided to eat the loss. Plenty of creatures had tried to get the better of it over the years, but this was only the second time it had ever knowingly agreed to a bad deal. For the chance at a new breakthrough, even a bad deal was worth accepting. It also produced an item it had spent considerable time debating with itself before bringing out at all: “Look at this. A Dragon Whistle. With this, you can command any dragon or wyvern below Sky-rank.”

“Garbage,” Yueyang said, his heart immediately leaping with interest while his expression remained utterly dismissive.

“Do you have any idea what constitutes a valuable item?” The two-headed dragon was nearly purple with exasperation.

The Dragon Whistle was technically Gold-rank, but its practical value dwarfed that classification entirely. If not for the Sky-rank ceiling on which dragons it could command, this thing would surpass Sacred-rank artifacts outright. For a supreme powerhouse themselves, the direct benefit was admittedly modest.

But a supreme powerhouse always had subordinates.

With the Dragon Whistle, one could summon every sub-Sky-rank dragon and wyvern under one’s command — building a full Dragon Knight Legion, capable of being called to one’s side at any moment, with a maximum headcount of ten thousand. A flying force of that size and quality would let even a fool carve out territory anywhere in the celestial realm.

The two-headed black dragon had worked extremely hard to pry this item away from a previous challenger.

It had absolutely not anticipated that Yueyang would treat it like a piece of junk.

The frustration was nearly unbearable.

Yueyang had his reasons. “I don’t need mounts. Someone of my standing riding a sub-Sky-rank dragon — how embarrassing would that be? We’d be the laughingstock of every family gathering. And it’s not even comfortable. It’s not as though my family is short on dragons. We have some of the finest specimens imaginable and I’m thoroughly tired of riding them. If I want to travel in comfort, I’ll take a luxury airship.”

The two-headed dragon fell silent, beginning to understand something.

Why this kid showed no appreciation for the finer things.

The answer was simple: this kid had grown up never wanting for anything. A scion of some extraordinary great clan — possibly the legendary lineage — pampered from birth, drowning in resources his entire life. Of course he’d have no interest in a Gold-rank Dragon Whistle.

Still, the dragon pressed on. “Having a dragon legion follow at your heels does cut quite the impressive figure.” It genuinely felt the Whistle was wasted sitting in its own hoard, and tried adding to the offer: “If you agree to the trade, I’ll add a Dragon Contract — it’ll let you form a covenant bond with any dragon.”

“You think I need a Dragon Contract to get a dragon to bond with me? They line up and beg me for the privilege. I’m not interested in contracting just anything — it has to be a beautiful female war beast. Dragons can get in line. The only reason I’m even talking to you is that I want some Dragon Tooth for crafting a puppet. Otherwise I wouldn’t waste my time on a deal this bad.” Yueyang sniffed.

“Well…”

The two-headed dragon found that oddly believable.

This kid radiated the energy of a completely spoiled rich young master — allergic to contracting dragons, obsessed with beautiful female war beasts. Entirely plausible. Classic wastrel behavior. The more it looked at Yueyang, the more it saw a spectacular squanderer of ancestral wealth — which, now that it thought about it, actually explained why he was trading away superlative War Spirit Pills for miscellaneous dragon parts. His family had probably spent considerable effort producing those pills as emergency reserves, and here he was treating them like pocket change.

The thought of those War Spirit Pills crystallized its resolve.

One more concession: “Three vials of blood, the Dragon Whistle, horns, scales, my shed indestructible Dragon Claw, Moonstone, Star Crystal — ten War Spirit Pills.”

Yueyang appeared to be cleaning his ear with his little finger.

The two-headed dragon swallowed its dignity. “Four vials of blood. Five. What do you say?”

“A full barrel of dragon blood might be getting somewhere…” Yueyang proposed a condition that made the dragon contemplate homicide.

“A barrel?! Even the smallest barrel holds ten vials. What do you take my blood for? And besides — draining a full barrel at once, I’d actually die!”

“For something your size, a barrel of blood is barely a period.” Yueyang observed.

Every spectator watching from the distance collapsed.

“I am male!” The two-headed dragon’s forehead veins were bulging dangerously.

“It’s just a figure of speech.” Yueyang’s expression shifted to something sunny and cheerful. “I’ve grown up and never once seen a dragon actually bleed. If you won’t let me witness it today, I simply cannot rest easy…”

This time it wasn’t just the distant spectators — the Poison Wasp King, Longma, and the sickle weasel — who collapsed. The two-headed dragon itself went flat. It had never encountered such a perverse individual. Whoever had raised this child and then released him into the celestial realm had done the world a profound disservice.

Though the dragon did actually believe him.

A young master who had gotten everything he ever wanted since birth, raised by doting elders who had never once let a wish go unfulfilled — it was entirely plausible that some particular psychic twist had developed along the way. You couldn’t blame the child entirely.

And for the sake of those War Spirit Pills —

The two-headed dragon sacrificed itself, producing a jet of blood from its neck.

“…Nothing special about it.” Yueyang looked, then yawned.

“Say that again and I will hit you.” The two-headed dragon was firm on this.

“Fine, fine. Since you’re clearly on the verge of tears — ten War Spirit Pills.” Yueyang produced a mutton-fat jade vial, peered inside, counted eleven pills, and began to tip one back out. The two-headed dragon’s hand shot out with surprising speed and snatched the whole bottle. Fearing Yueyang might change his mind, its other claw immediately flung out dragon teeth, horns, and everything else, dumping the pile at his feet. The Dragon Whistle went around Yueyang’s neck. Moon and Star stones were stuffed into his pockets before he could react.

Yueyang opened his mouth to say something.

The two-headed dragon seized his hand in both claws, beamed with the broadest of smiles, and declared: “Transaction complete!”

Yueyang glared and cursed it roundly for a shameless bandit. The two-headed dragon received this feedback with serene indifference.

Child, in business, one must be a little ruthless. Gentlemanly conduct does not fill the belly.

It found that it rather enjoyed watching this insufferable young master look dejected. When Yueyang trudged away with drooping shoulders and a distinctly deflated air, the dragon couldn’t resist giving him a sympathetic pat. “Young man, being taken advantage of is a kind of fortune. You’ll understand this wisdom someday. Wait — where are you going? You didn’t take the dragon blood. Are you really just leaving? You’re sure you don’t want it?”

Yueyang, looking for all the world like a guileless child who had just been swindled for the first time, replied sadly: “I don’t want it.”

The tone of it pricked something in the two-headed dragon.

Had it gone too far? It was, after all, a veteran of tens of thousands of years. This kid was barely a sprout. Shamelessly cheating a sprout — perhaps that was a little much.

Returning even one War Spirit Pill was, of course, completely out of the question. But after considerable deliberation, the dragon breathed out a mass of roiling golden flame and offered it forward. “Stop sulking — you’re too old for that. Here. You’re not bad, for what it’s worth. Take this. It’s a Dragon Flame I spent several thousand years condensing — the most powerful fire in existence. Burns forever without going out.”

“Isn’t that Nirvana Flames?” Yueyang pointed out. At least make the bluff convincing.

“Nirvana Flames are one of a kind, beyond all reckoning. Setting that aside — yes, my Dragon Flame is second only to that. It’s a fine thing regardless of what you compare it to!” The two-headed dragon’s face went faintly red. It had overreached slightly. Fortunately, no one here had ever actually seen Nirvana Flames firsthand.

“Really?” Yueyang looked at it, genuinely uncertain.

“Absolutely. Take it back and study it at your leisure — if your war beast can absorb it, the power increase will be significant.” The dragon waved over the spectating beasts to help carry the dragon teeth, horns, and other items back for Yueyang, invented an excuse about needing rest, ushered him out of its dragon territory, and the moment Yueyang was well out of earshot, erupted into gleeful, self-congratulatory laughter.

Ha! No matter how clever you are, boy — you’re still no match for a dragon of ten thousand years. The teeth and horns are all shed material, practically worthless. The blood replenishes in a few days, I have as much as I’ll ever need. The Whistle and Dragon Flame are a slight sting, admittedly. But eleven War Spirit Pills — I could break through an entire level on those alone. Even one would have been profit enough.

The two-headed dragon grew more pleased with itself the longer it thought about it.

The kid was genuinely sharp. Difficult to deal with.

But compared to itself — still a long way to go.

Longma and the sickle weasel had noticed Yueyang’s expression throughout the whole exchange — the look of someone who’d come out on the losing end of a deal — and were quietly puzzled. They edged over to the Poison Wasp King and whispered: “Did he actually lose on that? Because from where we’re standing, it looks like a massive win.”

They kept their voices very low. Yueyang was not to hear this question under any circumstances.

The Poison Wasp King rolled her eyes. “Did you both become idiots after dying once? Do you honestly think he ever makes a losing trade?”

Longma and the sickle weasel looked at each other in dawning realization, slapped themselves on the cheeks simultaneously for asking such a foolish question, and agreed they were clearly getting stupider with age.

Yueyang himself, however, took the opposing view. “No, I genuinely lost on that one. If you two had any acting ability whatsoever — if you could have backed me up even a little — I could have squeezed at least double. I told you not to follow me. You insisted. That old creature spotted something in your reactions and locked down, otherwise I’d have walked away with twice as much.”

“My lord,” the sickle weasel said carefully, “what we got is already an enormous haul. If we’d tried to squeeze double, that old dragon would have had us skinned alive. Even if we had the acting chops — we’d have felt genuinely terrible about it.”

“There might even have been divine retribution,” Longma added, contemplating what double the haul would have looked like, and shuddering involuntarily.

“The self-justification of the incompetent,” Yueyang declared, with pure contempt. “No skill, and you’re lecturing me about conscience?”

Longma and the sickle weasel looked at each other with moist eyes and said nothing.