“The sea dragon’s fall—was that legend actually true?” Cerqin asked, curiosity rippling like a pebble tossed into a still pond.

“But these blue snowflakes… are they really just because the sea’s energy is thick here?” Her voice drifted light, like frost over a wave.

“At least, I can’t feel a trace of draconic mana in them.”

Silver Luan reached out. A blue flake landed on her palm. It didn’t melt. It breathed a faint, watery mana, like a drop drawn from the deep.

“Shaped by a nearby natural mana leyline and frozen into ice—that’s the likeliest answer,” she said, calm as a quiet tide.

“That does sound most likely,” Aileaf agreed, then went on, her tone like a reed in the wind.

“The true Dragon race doesn’t walk the continent anymore. Among dragon-descended peoples, only a few sapient lines remain. If there really were a dragon’s remains in these waters, anyone would be interested.”

“If they can even find it…” Silver Luan shrugged, helpless as a gull before a storm. Even if it exists, it’s buried somewhere on the hard-to-chart seafloor.

“So many years have passed with no one finding it. Even if you did, claiming it’s another question.”

“Then why believe the tale’s real? Does that fallen sea dragon tie into today’s Half Dragonkin?” Cerqin asked, curiosity lifting like a kite in a sea breeze.

If the Half Dragonkin keep detailed records, yet no one’s found the remains, then the sea dragon’s identity might be entwined with them.

“Pretty much. The Half Dragonkin are vast, with many branches—like our Silver Dragon Clan. The Sea Dragon Clan is one of the largest. That sea dragon was their progenitor,” Silver Luan said, steady as an anchor.

The Half Dragonkin had no single kingdom before. They lived as scattered settlements, beads on a broken strand.

Even so, the many branches stuck together. Several strong lines formed large tribes, a net woven tight across the land.

Silver Luan came from a southeastern corner of the Holy Dragon Empire, a large coalition mainly of Silver and Sea Dragon clans.

“Now that you mention it, Eastern Sea City does have some Sea Dragon Half Dragonkin hunting that dragon legacy with relentless focus,” she added, the words dipping like oars.

“Why do you sound… off, whenever you bring up the Sea Dragon Clan?” Cerqin’s eyes narrowed, sharp as a gull’s cry.

“Do your Silver Dragon and the Sea Dragon clans not get along?”

“No…” Silver Luan’s expression turned distant, like a face reflected in tidewater. It only made Cerqin more suspicious.

“So you’ve got a grudge with some of them?”

“Er.”

Cerqin remembered the capital. When they’d first arrived, Silver Luan had visited the Half Dragonkin encampment there. Obviously, Eastern Sea City had one too, yet this was Luan’s first time mentioning it.

“It’s not a feud. The Silver and Sea Dragon clans get along well, or we wouldn’t share a great coalition. It’s just… because we get along too well…”

“Ah, I get it!” Aileaf clapped, a spark snapping in the air, and cut her off.

Both of them looked down at her.

“Is it… a marriage thing?”

“…”

Silver Luan’s gaze slid away. Cerqin’s eyelid twitched like a leaf in wind.

“You said you were traveling to temper yourself. Don’t tell me you’re fleeing a marriage?”

Cerqin groaned, half laughing, half exasperated.

“When we visit the Half Dragonkin enclave, are you going to use me as a human shield?”

“How is it a shield? You stole our hearts. Don’t you need to take responsibility?” Aileaf huffed, then, gossip kindled, stared at Silver Luan. Silver Luan saw the jig was up and sighed.

“It’s not dodging a betrothal. It’s… suitors. The Sea Dragon Clan is even more fanatical about breeding than we Silver Dragon are. They instinctively chase strength.”

Mid-sentence, her tone shifted. The helplessness fell away, replaced by a hint of disdain, and under that, a gleam of pride.

“I’m top-tier among the younger generation. So they keep pestering me—anyone with a shred of power buzzes around like flies. Half Dragonkin choose mates by strength and ability first. Age and looks barely matter.”

“Uh…” Cerqin imagined it and her scalp tingled like ice water. If they were all pretty young ladies, fine. Without age or appearance limits… that’s a hellscape.

“Wait, that’s the Half Dragonkin standard, not just the Sea Dragon Clan?”

“The Sea Dragon Clan’s the most intense about it. They’re one of the few big branches that almost completely lost their bloodline crutch. But honestly, most branches aren’t far off.”

Silver Luan sighed, a long wave rolling against rock.

One reason the Sea Dragon Clan kept sending people to Eastern Sea City to hunt that dragon legacy: it was their own source-line. Another: their progenitor fell too suddenly, left no bloodline to lean on. Their once-large clan ended up in an awkward place, their degeneration the worst.

Cerqin frowned, brows knitting like frost.

“If Half Dragonkin care more about strength, then how did you fall for me? Back then you were obviously smitten by my looks…”

A bonk landed. Cerqin yelped, pain sparking like a struck flint.

She saw Silver Luan’s cheeks flush rose. Cerqin’s neck shrank like a turtle’s.

“You two…” Aileaf pressed her lips together. Watching them, she suddenly regretted tagging along.

“But by that logic, if the Sea Dragon Clan here in Eastern Sea City spot you, that’s bad, right?”

Silver Luan nodded.

“No wonder you keep your tail and such hidden…”

Cerqin’s words trailed off. Out of the corner of her eye, at the far edge of the bustling market, she spotted two youths walking side by side—scaly tails swaying, short horns catching the lantern light.

“Uh… no way it’s that coincidental…”

She touched her head, then tugged Silver Luan’s sleeve, her eyes flicking a warning.

“Er…”

A wisp of Silver Luan’s Seventh Rank power slipped free, sharp as brine. Cerqin, the closest, absorbed it on reflex. She shivered, fighting down a gasp.

“What are you doing? In public?”

“Ah—sorry. Damn it, of all times…”

“They won’t recognize you like this, right? Don’t panic,” Cerqin muttered as Luan yanked her in front, using her as a screen.

“Alright, alright, let’s go. Move.”

The three veered the other way, away from the Sea Dragon pair. The festival swelled toward its peak. The blue snow of the Winter’s Night washed that scare away like foam on a shore.

The market sprawl was vast, able to hold tens of thousands. Running into them again wasn’t likely.

Besides, thanks to the Dragon Deity’s gift of transformation, Half Dragonkin traits could vanish. Even face-to-face, without a careful look, you’d struggle to recognize one by their features alone.

They played late into the night. The street’s mood stayed bright as lanterns in frost. Then Cerqin felt her bracelet vibrate. She froze, eyes widening, and yanked Silver Luan and Aileaf to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” they asked, each holding one of Cerqin’s hands, turning with concern.

Cerqin swallowed. She raised her spatial storage bracelet, still buzzing.

“Uh…”

The other two instantly let go, stepped back, linked arms with each other, and averted their eyes from Cerqin.

“You two…” Cerqin muttered, dread pooling like cold water in her stomach. She pulled a comm-stone from storage and connected it.

Spring Tide’s soft voice drifted out, like rain on eaves. [Enjoying the Winter’s Night festival?]

“Uh… Spring Tide, listen—I can explain. I didn’t mean not to invite you…”

Cerqin put on her most pitiful voice, a little whine sweet as candied haw.

Silver Luan and Aileaf exchanged a look and clicked their tongues.

“So fake.”

“You two!” Cerqin glared. When punishment came, those two would definitely run to Spring Tide’s side. She opened her mouth to tattle, but Spring Tide’s weary voice cut in.

[Enough. I’ll deal with you later. I called for something else.]

“Wuu, Spring Tide, you’re the best.”

[Save the sweet talk. Your punishment won’t lose a single stroke.]

“Uh…”

Cerqin squeezed her knees together, then steadied her tone.

“What’s up?”

[The material you asked me to find has a lead. The one to replace the magic box as a mana reservoir.]

“So fast?!”

A few days ago, when her experiment stalled, she’d gone to consult scholars in the Sanctuary. The materials they proposed were controlled by special factions, most of them rare and strange. She’d asked Spring Tide to try buying a batch.

She hadn’t expected news this soon. Excitement rose, but Spring Tide’s voice followed, cool as a night tide.

[Don’t get excited yet. You’ll need Silver Luan’s help.]

“Huh?”

On the side, Silver Luan pricked up her ears. Aileaf, fingers laced with Luan’s, felt a ripple of unease.

Calling before it was nailed down wasn’t Spring Tide’s style. If it was serious and needed Silver Luan, she’d have told Luan first. And that opening line of hers…

Aileaf smelled incoming drama like ozone before a storm.

Sure enough, Spring Tide sounded faintly amused. [Sea-source crystal. It fits your requirements perfectly. And from what I found, in all Eastern Sea City, the ones who have it—are the Sea Dragon Clan.]

“…”

“Hey, Spring Tide, that’s just mean!” Silver Luan snapped, snatching the comm-stone. The connection cut at once.

“Damn it! Even if you’re jealous, why take it out on me? Aileaf did it too!”

Aileaf: “?”

Cerqin looked at Luan with big, pleading eyes.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not helping. Not before I return to the clans. I don’t want to deal with any Sea Dragon at all.”

“But only the Sea Dragon Clan has sea-source crystal. If you don’t speak, will they sell to me?”

Cerqin knew the name. Among the rare materials the scholars listed, it was the hardest to obtain.

She hadn’t expected that one to surface first—right here, with the Sea Dragonkin in Eastern Sea City…

Silver Luan fell silent. Sea-source crystal, also called dragon crystal, sleeps on the abyssal seafloor—scarce and vicious to harvest.

It’s called dragon crystal because, for the Sea Dragon Clan, it slows the decay of their bloodline.

Without a Half Dragonkin badge, even the Sanctuary would struggle to pry that stuff from the Sea Dragons’ claws, a resource they guard like pearls in the deep.

Besides, you probably need a tide’s worth, right? A trickle might pass, but a bulk deal? The Sea Dragons won’t sign off on that, not in this lifetime.

Silver Luan mulled it over, sea-breeze cool on his thoughts, then nodded. If it’s truly vital, I can go knock on their door and try—oars in calm water.

But that call from Spring Tide just now was a cold wave to the face, pure bullying for sport.

Cerqin had reached the same shore of thought. He could only sigh, salt in his breath. Empty joy. Spring Tide’s a nasty piece of work.

Speaking of which, are the Sea Origin Crystal mines under Eastern Sea City’s seabed in the Sea Dragons’ hands too?

Aileaf cut in like a gull knifing through foam.

Silver Luan blinked, then frowned, nets tightening between his brows. No… as far as I know, Eastern Sea City’s waters don’t have any Sea Origin Crystal lodes.

By common sense, though, a sea that drops snow like this should be rich as a full net.

Aileaf pinched a blue snowflake between her fingers. She rubbed it; when she opened her hand, mist-like mana drifted off like morning fog over the tide.

The landfolk of Eastern Sea City have dredged the shallows, and that’s one reason the city blooms like lanterns at dusk. The deep is a monster’s playground, a black trench where even high-rank cultivators can’t roam for long. In the Holy Dragon Empire, few races dive that far and still walk the land like wind on dunes. By reason alone, Sea Origin Crystal should be out there, cold and bright.

The Sea Dragons have been searching these waters for ages. Ruins or no ruins, the deep off Eastern Sea City shouldn’t hold fewer treasures than the tidepools at its feet.

Strange, isn’t it? A riddle curled in fog.

If Sea Origin Crystal veins were truly there, how could no one spot them? It’d be like missing a whale in a moonlit cove.

Silver Luan’s frown deepened, a ripple darkening still water.

Either way, this runs against the grain. I’m curious about that fallen Sea Dragon, too. And I just brewed a new potion with your blood a few days ago—thought it’d gather dust forever.

Aileaf drew out a vial of milk-white liquid, frost sleeping in glass.

I call it Dragon’s Breath. It was a failed try at a keen-sense draught. What’s left is the trick that lets you breathe underwater for a long stretch. Costs an armful of coin. I figured it’d never see daylight.

...

Cerqin’s eyes lit like stars breaking through sea-mist. In that case, why don’t we go prospecting—and while we’re at it, hunt for those Dragon’s Ruins?

Sea Origin Crystal the Sea Dragons couldn’t find—how are we supposed to net it with just us? That potion’s pricey; we can’t brew it by the barrel.

Silver Luan’s interest stirred like wind on a calm bay, but he still felt it was chasing foam. And why are you two suddenly so hot for a deep-sea run?

Because that fallen dragon interests me, Aileaf said, as if it were obvious. I’m studying dragon factors. In Half Dragonkin—even you—the dragon factor’s thin as smoke over a cold river.

As for me, Cerqin said, I just want to unwind. My experiments are stuck like oars in mud. Maybe a little danger at sea will spark the lightning.