◇

Let’s rewind a few minutes.

While Lia and Yujia were busy critiquing Cang Xiaoxi, the one-sided standoff between him and Sadom continued.

“No… no… impossible…” Clutching his wounded abdomen, Sadom struggled to his feet. “Who *are* you…? How could you injure someone at the Peak of Transcendent Rank…? There’s not a trace of power on you… Could you… could you possibly be another hidden royal of the Mosiri Kingdom?”

“I’ve said it already. You’re not worthy of knowing my identity.”

Without answering, Cang Xiaoxi advanced step by deliberate step—unwavering, unhurried—closing in on Sadom.

Staring at the boy whose gaze was as cold as the Grim Reaper’s, Sadom still couldn’t fathom it: *Where does a frail-looking kid like him get such power?*

—It made no sense. How could this scrawny boy be stronger than him?

“Tch. Die.”

One hand pressed to his injured gut, the other swung the seized Imitation Holy Sword.

Pride refused to accept it: *Me, at the Peak of Transcendent Rank, defeated by a powerless child?* He still chalked the first two losses up to mistakes.

Reality, however, slapped him silly.

“You… you… how is this possible…?”

Third time’s the charm—or the end.

Sadom’s third strike was deflected with a casual wave of Cang Xiaoxi’s sleeve, a single raised hand. Effortless.

Now he *knew*. He wasn’t just weaker—he was *far* weaker.

*What ancient monster did I just provoke?*

“Heh~ This Arcane Artifact’s not bad… The energy inside grates on me, but craftsmanship-wise? Comparable to my own.”

Catching the horizontally swung blade with one hand, Cang Xiaoxi examined the gleaming sword with mild interest.

As a seasoned creator of overpowered Arcane Artifacts, native-made ones always topped his curiosity list.

(Though strictly speaking, the Imitation Holy Sword barely qualified as one.)

“You! Take your filthy hands off it!”

Once… twice… thrice… Sadom’s fury boiled over.

A top-tier powerhouse on the continent, humiliated *three times* by an unknown child? His dignity as Peak of Transcendent Rank lay in tatters.

—Identity be damned. No more holding back. *Kill him.*

Resolved, Sadom poured every ounce of will into the Imitation Holy Sword—

—but the moment he focused to command it, the blade rebelled.

Its pure radiance dimmed. Stripped of light, it reverted to inert metal. *Rejecting him.*

“Damn it… So the prince’s power alone isn’t enough to wield it fully…” Sadom clicked his tongue.

As the sword slipped from his grasp, Yujia moved.

And *then*—not one, but *two* waves of magical energy, vastly surpassing his own, surged toward them.

—*Divine Tier.* True powerhouses of this world were closing in.

Once they arrived? He’d be ground into dust. Correction—he *was* already. This would just be… upgraded grinding.

He couldn’t lose the Imitation Holy Sword *and* the princess.

Fleeing wasn’t his style… but a true man knows when to bend. *Where there’s life, there’s hope.*

Sadom made his choice.

“Tch. Remember this.”

In a blink—just like his prior vanishings—he disappeared. No afterimage. No trace.

So swift even Cang Xiaoxi missed the motion.

“…That power… as expected… deeply unpleasant…” Cang Xiaoxi murmured, face pale.

Recalling the unsettling magical ripples from the sword’s activation… and Sadom’s escape… a visceral aversion coiled in his gut.

*Why?* Maybe just… incompatible energies.

He *needed* to know what caused this discomfort. But first—escape the incoming crisis.

“Brother Xiao Xi!”

Lia sprinted toward him, eyes sparkling. After the heroic rescue and flawless takedown of Sadom, the little princess was utterly smitten. She shook his arm, beaming like a love-struck maiden.

Cang Xiaoxi’s brow furrowed.

He wasn’t dense. Years of social experience let him read emotions instantly—including the oblivious brother-complex prince trailing Lia.

“You’re Cang Xiaoxi, right? Thank you for your help. But please… release my sister’s hand. Unmarried women shouldn’t be touched by men outside the family.”

—*No, no, NO. YOU’RE SEEING IT WRONG. I’M THE ONE BEING CLUNG TO. I’M THE ONE UNCOMFORTABLE.*

Cang Xiaoxi mentally sighed at Yujia’s blatant little-sister complex. Three sentences were enough to peg him: *Troublesome. Exactly the type I avoid.*

“It’s nothing. Just passing through,” Cang Xiaoxi replied, already planning a quick exit.

Too late.

The synchronized *clip-clop* of hooves sealed his fate.

“Lia!”

“Father…”

Frederick—the battle-hardened Sword Saint, King of Mosiri, father to Lia and Yujia—arrived. Joy lit his weathered face at seeing his children safe… until his eyes landed on Cang Xiaoxi.

“You’re Sha… No. Who *are* you?”

He’d mistaken him for the late Shaya for a heartbeat. But this was someone else—someone who looked eerily similar, with Lia clinging to his arm and Yujia radiating protective fury. Frederick’s mind raced: *What in the world is happening?*

Before he could piece it together—

“…Dad…”

“Eh?!”

Frederick, Lia, Yujia, the soldiers—all froze, eyes wide.

All gazes snapped to Cang Xiaoxi.

The boy stood stiff, face drained of color, all earlier fearlessness gone. Yet deep in his ashen-gray eyes… a faint, fragile flicker of joy.

“You… what did you just call me?” Frederick asked, dazed.

“Ah!”

Snapping out of it with a sharp *tsk*, Cang Xiaoxi wrenched free from Lia and leaped back.

“Brother Xiao Xi!”

No one knew which way things would turn.

As stunned silence hung—

***ROOOAR!***

A deafening roar shook the forest, apocalyptic in scale, rolling from the distant horizon.

“What is that…?”

Heads lifted.

A colossal dragon soared against the snow-white sky—body and fur gleaming like polished silver. Her golden-rippled eyes scanned the ground below, regarding them like ants.

With a thunderous beat of silver wings, she dove—not toward Frederick, but *straight for Cang Xiaoxi*.

“Brother Xiao Xi!”

“Wait, Lia! Don’t run!”

Lia reached desperately. Yujia yanked her back. “Brother Yujia, let go! He’s in danger!” She struggled, but her overprotective brother held firm.

Just as doom seemed certain—the silver dragon circled above Cang Xiaoxi and landed gently, as if answering him.

Without hesitation, the boy leaped, seized her claw—

—and vanished into the forest’s depths atop the dragon, swallowed by the gale of her wings.

Frederick stood rooted, watching them disappear. Slowly, hoarsely:

“That… is the Silverfrost Dragon Queen…”

◇

“Land here.”

Once Frederick and the Mosiri royals were out of sight, Cang Xiaoxi spoke calmly to the dragon above.

“Mm, got it.”

In a voice impossibly soft and childlike for her size, the silver dragon descended into a forest clearing.

The moment Cang Xiaoxi’s feet touched earth, her form shimmered in brilliant white light—shrinking, shifting—until only Jikuhir remained: the loli Dragon Sovereign who claimed to be his wife.

“Xi’er! Are you hurt?!” Ignoring her own magically drained state, Jikuhir frantically patted him head to toe.

“I’m fine,” Cang Xiaoxi offered a strained, apologetic smile. “*You’re* the one… Dragon transformation must’ve cost you dearly.”

“Me? Pfft! I’m the *strongest* Dragon Sovereign!” Jikuhir puffed her chest, then softened. “But *you*… Xi’er? You look pale. Are you *sure* you’re okay?”