He looked at her, speaking through silent transmission. "Thought you didn't like using that name in front of too many people?" She didn't flinch. Her voice was calm. Deliberate. "Times change, right? Yělóng." She said it aloud. Not quietly. Not for him alone. And this time, she didn't whisper it into his spine— she let it echo. "Black Dragon Emperor!" "Black Dragon Emperor!" "Black Dragon Emperor!" They shouted—not in defiance. In dread. In reverence. Dread stood behind Ren and Xiānlù. So vast no measure could hold it. Not in height. Not in length. Only in terror. It breathed. And the sky caught fire. Black flames. Dark flames. Dragonhold trembled. The others watched. Not as witnesses. As worshippers. They looked upon The Emperor of all Emperors. The Emperor of all Gods. The Black Dragon Emperor. The True Immortal. Creator of all.
Ren stood beneath the stars, gazing at the moon. He had always loved the moon. It was the only light that didn't demand anything from him. When its glow touched his face, he felt—if not peace—then something close. Stillness. Memory. He remained in Dragonhold. His sanctum. A realm vast enough to hold his silence. Countless creatures lived here, but none disturbed him now. Then her voice reached him—warm, teasing, familiar. "Yělóng, come to bed already. I need my fire to warm me up.
"You still like looking at the moon, don't you?" She spoke softly, almost hesitant. "Is it because it's the only thing that doesn't feel like it worships you?" She paused. "What if it does?" Ren didn't look away. "Then it'd be fine with me." "Wouldn't change how much I like it. The peace it gives me." "But if it did worship me... it'd make me sad." "I don't want everything to worship me." "But I know eventually, everything will." "It's a curse—to have so much power." "And still crave more." "I don't need it. Not really." "But power's always there. In the back of my mind." "Creeping behind me like the Emperor's shadow." "My counterpart. The one I sealed in my own domain." "In my mind." "He comes out sometimes." "I have to restrain him." "To know a little balance." "Even if that doesn't matter."
"refine and improve That's why I left." "To learn control. To return to where I was born." "Back to the moment I first turned—when I became a true immortal." "I wanted to learn restraint. Not because I had to. Just because I thought it was right." "A few years later, my older sister, Cristina White Dragon, was dying." "She was old. Fragile. And I was still young—still looked eighteen." "She was the last of my family. The last to die." "She looked at me with love. But also sadness." "She knew what I was. What I'd become." "And she told me to restrain myself." "I took it seriously after that." "It became a promise. To her."
"I know you had to leave. But I still wish you'd stayed." "I know that's selfish. I know you had your path." "But you were my creator. I worshipped you." "And then it became more. It became love." "I wish you could've stayed here to learn. I would've helped you." "But you left. You got married. Three wives. Lovers." "Maybe not as wild as you were when you were here." "But it felt like I got replaced. Especially by your wives." "I kind of wish you hadn't told me about them." "After all... you're my Yělóng."
Ren laughed—soft, bitter. "The curse of having too much power." He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Even though I'm the strongest being alive… And my only equal is myself." "Or Venya—who is me ?" "The only one who could kill me. Or defeat me." He paused. The words hovered, unfinished. "I was going to say more." "So much to tell you." "To everyone listening." He looked past her, past the moment. "But it's just… too much to explain right now."
Ren's voice was quiet, almost wistful. "I remember when I was mortal. Life was so simple." "We're born. We live. We die when our battery runs out." "I used to struggle. There were things I couldn't do. I had to work for them." "But now… I don't need to anymore." "I miss that." "Since I can do anything, maybe I should kill myself. Reincarnate as a mortal." "Just to remember what it feels like to be human again." "I miss the challenge." Xiānlù snapped. "Shut up." "Don't you dare ever say that again. Do you hear me?" Her voice cracked, but her fury held. "I told you—never leave me again. Ever. Do you hear?" "I don't care how selfish that is. My only reason is you." She stepped closer, trembling. "As for my husband… if it comes to it, I'll give him the throne of the Nether Realm." "Let him rule it in my stead." "I'll divorce him. I'll walk away from everything." "So don't you ever say that again." "You're mine. And I'm yours. Forever." "I'm your little Xiānlù." "And you're my Yělóng." "If you ever killed yourself permanently… If you ever reincarnated…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I would come for you. In a heartbeat." "I would take you back."
"I love you, my little Xiānlù. Very much so." "I love you too, Yělóng. I also hate you very much." Ren smirked at that. Again, he reached out— and poked her forehead with two fingers.
Ren woke in the night. The moon hung low, pale and watching. He looked up at it, then spoke softly. "Dread… look after her for now." "Tell Xiānlù I'll come back." "I need to continue my journey—with Mianmian and Gao Yun." "They're probably wondering what happened to me. Where I've been." A shadow stirred nearby. "Yes, Lord Ren. It shall be done."
Ren returned to the place he'd been staying—barely crossing the threshold before a blur slammed into him. A woman clung to him, her chest pressed against his face. "Master! Where have you been?" "Mianmian missed you dearly!" Ren staggered, muffled by the sudden embrace. Two others followed behind—his disciples. Princess Lianhua Tianchen and Prince Mingyu Tianchen halted at the doorway, staring. "…This is what we're walking into?" Mingyu muttered. Then came Gao Yun. Thinner. Sharper. Almost handsome. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks—or had been reborn through suffering. "Master," he said, voice strained. "You finally returned." "I can't deal with her anymore." "She turned into a human." "She's no longer a rodent. No longer a squirrel." Ren blinked, still half-smothered. "…What happened while I was gone?"
Ren hadn't even spoken when Mianmian turned, eyes blazing. "What did you just say, Gao Yun?" "Rodent? Say that again, you bitch." "Last I checked, you're my slave." "You do what I ask. I am Master Queen." "His spirit beast. Show me the respect I deserve." Gao Yun didn't flinch—he just gestured helplessly toward Ren. "You see what I'm dealing with, Master?" "She's become a crazy bitch." "Even worse than when she was a rodent." A sharp whistle cut through the air. Then a massive nut—gleaming, spiked, and enchanted—slammed into Gao Yun's face. He flew. Through trees. Over cliffs. Across mountains. Nature bent and broke in his wake. And somehow… he was still alive.
The other two disciples stood frozen. One was over a thousand years old. The other—barely ten. Princess Lianhua Tianchen quickly covered her younger brother's ears and eyes. But Prince Mingyu Tianchen peeked through her fingers, wide-eyed. Mianmian was mothering Ren with her chest, practically draped across him. "Master, look at me!" she beamed. "I've become a sexy woman!" "I'm totally your type, right?" Ren didn't answer. Then Gao Yun stormed in, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her off. "I knew it," he growled. "You little rodent." "I knew the moment you turned human, you'd strike." "Trying to become Master's woman." "You mischievous little beast." "You don't deserve his love." Mianmian twisted in his grip, eyes flashing. "Don't deserve?" she hissed. "I earned this body." "I cultivated through heartbreak, through hunger, through centuries of silence." "I am his spirit beast." "I am his queen." Ren blinked, still recovering. The air shimmered with tension—between loyalty and desire, between beast and disciple, between restraint and chaos.
Gao Yun scoffed, voice rising. "Centuries?" "What do you know about centuries?" "Last I checked, you've only been with Master for two years." "Since he joined the Glass Lotus Sect." "You liar." "You big, ridiculous liar." Mianmian's eyes narrowed, her aura flaring
Mianmian stepped forward, fists clenched, ready to strike. Before she could unleash her fury, Ren spoke—quiet, firm. "Mianmian. Behave." She froze. Then turned with a sweet, innocent smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yes, Master. Whatever you say." "I was only going to kill him anyway." "He's quite resilient." "He lost all that weight because of me. He should be grateful." "He looks better now. Handsome, even. That's my doing." She leapt toward Ren, clinging to his arm. Ren could feel her chest pressing against him. He sighed. Not from desire. Not from fear. But from the burden of being the axis around which chaos spun.
Gao Yun staggered forward, bruised and indignant. "Master, you hear this?" "Look what she's done to me—I'm ruined!" "My wife doesn't recognize me anymore." "She says I look like an imposter." "She misses my chubby, handsome face!" "And she just said she was going to kill me!" Ren opened his mouth, but Mianmian cut in, voice syrupy sweet. "Master, don't listen to him." "I was only kidding." "I couldn't kill him even if I wanted to." "Gao Yun, Master has a soft spot for you." "So I could never kill you. I promise." She smiled, pressing her seductive body against Ren's arm even more. Ren sighed again. Not from weakness. Not from temptation. But from the quiet agony of being adored by chaos incarnate.
Ren finally spoke, his voice quiet but unwavering. "Don't worry, Gao Yun." "Your wife still loves you." "She's teasing, not rejecting." "She knows who you are—beneath the weight, beneath the change." "She loves you. I promise." Gao Yun blinked, his bruised face twitching between disbelief and fragile hope. His mouth opened, then closed.