The air in the Serene Spirit Wilderness always carried the sweet scent of grasses and nectar.

It was a peculiar fragrance—not the rich headiness of roses, nor the refined clarity of jasmine—as if countless aromas had been blended together by some fey magic, then steeped in sunlight and dew until they condensed into a unique perfume.

Every breath let that sweetness seep into the soul, lifting the spirits without one noticing.

The fey called it the taste of joy.

They said that outsiders who stayed long enough would catch it too, becoming far more cheerful than before.

Garoth had long since grown used to that scent.

Right now he lay prostrate on a patch of ground carpeted with golden moss, surrounded by low shrubs and bioluminescent mushrooms. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the canopy, casting mottled light across his crimson scales.

A miniature dragon crouched on the back of his claw.

From head to tail she was under a meter long, a tiny ornament perched on the giant claw.

Her wings, however, were far larger than her body—two pairs as thin as cicada wings, shimmering with rainbow hues in the sun. She had a pair of curved little horns atop her head and a garland necklace woven from flower buds around her neck.

A faerie Dragon, Vira.

“And then? And then what happened?”

Vira fluttered her wings and rose from the great claw’s back, hovering close to Garoth’s snout.

Her eyes were wide, pupils gleaming with curiosity as she pressed on, “After you killed that Great Demon, what did the other demons do?”

“Did they pee themselves and beg for mercy? Fall to their knees? Or kneel and shout ‘Grandpa Dragon, spare me’?”

Garoth watched the faerie dragon nearly press up against his nostrils and instinctively felt a sneeze coming.

He suppressed it, leaning his head back slightly to create some distance.

“I didn’t pay attention.”

“You didn’t pay attention?”

Vira puffed out her cheeks in disappointment.

A faerie dragon’s cheeks were already somewhat round; puffed like this they resembled a hamster full of nuts, while the mouth drooped in a look of grievous offense.

“How could you not pay attention at such an exciting moment?”

“If I had been there, I would have stood proudly on the battlefield, looking down at those trembling demons so they’d know who was boss! I would have memorized every detail to tell my friends later.”

She paused, then brightened again.

“But you did kill the Great Demon! The Slaughter Great Demon! Just the name sounds terrifying!”

“The other demons, seeing you kill their leader, must have fallen to their knees begging you—some might have wet their pants in terror. Well, I’m not sure if demons wear pants, but you get the idea.”

Garoth shook his head slightly. “Demons don’t kneel and beg.”

“They either charge forward to die, or flee. After you finished off the minor demons, the remaining ones were cleaned up by my legendary…”

“And then? And then what?”

Vira pressed.

“Then I returned to the dragon court, rested for a month, and came back to level the rift.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Vira blinked, tilting her little head as if pondering something important.

“Too brief.”

A few seconds later she shook her head and declared,

“Not exciting enough. Not thrilling enough. Not… legendary enough.”

“If you tell it like this, my friends will be disappointed.”

“They’ll say, ‘Vira, are you lying? How could the Red Emperor be so boring? He just killed a Great Demon and that was it? He closed a rift and that was it? No twists, no suspense, no reversals!’”

She lifted her head and puffed out her tiny chest, eyes sparkling as she looked at Garoth.

“Fine, I’ll embellish it for you.”

Garoth tilted his head toward the faerie dragon. “Embellish?”

“Yes, embellish. This isn’t my first time doing this.”

Vira raised her little chin proudly, practically tipping it to the sky.

“I’m professional.”

“Fey love stories, but true stories are often short and dull. I don’t mean your deeds are boring, you just tell them too briefly. That’s why a talented storyteller like me must add flesh to the bones, graft wings onto it, and bring it to life.”

She cleared her throat, squared her tiny shoulders, and adopted a solemn expression.

“Listen carefully.”

Vira drew a deep breath and began.

“The great Red Emperor, Garoth Ignas, stood proud above the heavens—three heads, six arms—his body ablaze with golden lightning and blood-red fire. His silhouette blotted out the sun, his presence shook heaven and earth, his light pierced time itself. He looked down upon the hideous Slaughter Great Demon with eyes like torches and a voice like thunder.”

She paused, lowering her tone to mimic gravitas.

“He said, ‘Demon, today is the day you die!’”

Then returning to her normal voice, she continued, “The Great Demon charged laughing, demonic miasma sweeping the world, black as ink, staining half the sky. He dared to challenge the Red Emperor’s authority, to prove the Abyss’s power was unmatched.”

“But the Red Emperor did not dodge—his six arms unleashed at once!”

“One punch shattered the Great Demon’s chestplate! One claw tore open the demon’s belly! One elbow crushed the demon’s skull!”

“Wait.”

Garoth interrupted her impassioned narration. “I did not crush his skull with an elbow.”

Vira waved a tiny hand.

“Artistic license.”

“Oh come on, don’t quibble over details. Stories need exaggeration to be exciting.”

Garoth shook his head slightly but didn’t argue further.

“Continue.”

Vira rambled on, spinning the tale: the Red Emperor single-handedly slaying the Great Demon, then with one strike sealing the rift, terrifying demons everywhere…

Her narration overflowed with hyperbole, absurd metaphors, and wildly inaccurate reactions.

In her version the demons’ knees buckled at the sight of the Red Emperor; the Abyssal Rift was permanently sealed by a claw, and even the Abyssal Will wailed sorrowfully through the void.

Garoth listened quietly, occasionally correcting the most outrageous claims.

For example, he had not burned through three layers of the Abyss with a single dragon breath to incinerate the Demon King.

Ten minutes later Vira finally finished.

She exhaled long and fluttered her wings, eyes hopeful like a dog waiting for praise, tail almost wagging.

“Well? Brilliant, right?”

Garoth considered it. “Impressive, but it doesn’t sound believable enough.”

“Not believable is exactly what works!”

Vira beamed smugly.

“Fey like those kinds of unbelievable stories.

“Who wants total realism? Real stories are boring: what we ate today, what we’ll do tomorrow, who we met the day after—who wants to hear that?”

“The things you mentioned—killing a Great Demon, closing a rift—those are two sentences and done, empty.”

“But if I embellish, my friends will savor it for days! They love it and I love telling them—win-win!”

Garoth fell silent.

He found he couldn’t argue.

Vira’s voice dropped into a satisfied drawl, eyes half-mooned. “When I tell the others, they’ll worship me even more. Last time I told them how the Red Emperor smote three high-ranking demon generals with one claw, they listened seriously. Several little ones chased me all day demanding more.”

For Vira, the Red Emperor stories were continuously updated serials.

If she went too long without a new installment, the story-loving fey would cling to her, almost glued behind her back, eyes pleading for the next update.

Vira didn’t mind; she relished the adoration.

So whenever she ran out of stories, she’d invite Garoth to the Serene Spirit Wilderness, cling to him, and pester him for tales from the Material Plane.

At that moment Garoth suddenly remembered something.

“Vira, you’re a Dreamweaver Sorceress, right?”

“Of course.”

Vira nodded and patted her chest with a little paw. “I’m a proud Dreamweaver. And your inheritance probably doesn’t include Dreamweaver knowledge—only us faerie dragons have it.”

She paused, proudly adding a clarification.

Different dragon lineages had different heritage contents.

The dreamweaver path was essentially a variant branch of the mind path.

Garoth’s inheritance contained mental knowledge, but little about dreamcraft. Things about dreams, illusions, and the subconscious were far from the Red Iron Dragon’s combat style.

Garoth considered and asked, “Can you pull someone into a dream at will?”

“Of course I can.”

Vira replied.

“Provided their will is weak.”

“For example, people who sleep deeply, or those muddled from drink—easy pickings.”

“If you meet someone with a strong will, it’s not so simple. It’s like pushing a door: if it’s unlocked it opens with a push; if it’s locked you need tools; if there’s furniture propped against it, forget it.”

She paused to study Garoth.

“Like you—you could sleep as deeply as you like and I still couldn’t drag you into a dream. Your will is like a steel wall I can’t penetrate.”

Garoth nodded slightly.

Indeed, if Vira could have pulled him into dreams, with her mischievous nature she would’ve long ago invaded his dreams to prank him.

“Can you construct a dream world to simulate battles and train skills?”

Garoth asked again.

Vira cocked her head and thought a moment.

“Sort of.”

“I often pull my friends into dreams to scare... er, play happily with them.”

“But simulation battles? Skill training? I don’t get that. Dreams are for play and rest—why fight in a dream?”

Garoth carefully explained what he meant.

Vira listened, then shook her little head.

“That’s not possible.”

“Dreams are fuzzy and abstract, not as clear or stable as reality.

“And our Dreamweaver talents lean more toward shaping what’s in my mind into reality, rather than building a fully stable dream world. I’m better at making friends see what I want them to see than at constructing a complete, detailed dream domain. What you’re describing is too precise; I can’t do that.”

She glanced at Garoth.

“Why are you asking? Do you want to train in dreams?”

“Wait, Garoth, don’t be so excessive—leave other dragons something to do. With you around, normal dragons look lazy, but I’m already very motivated!”

She protested.

Garoth considered without answering.

After a few seconds without a reply, Vira fluttered forward again, eager. “I must update my friends with a new Red Emperor story.”

“With this new material I’ll make it extra spectacular.”

“You coming? You pose, I narrate—better effect. When I say your claw shattered a chestplate, you swipe your claw; when I say you unleash dragon breath, you spit a tiny flame for effect.”

Garoth was uninterested.

He shook his head slightly. “Do you take me for a puppet? No.”

The turned-down faerie dragon didn’t seem disappointed.

She giggled, sly and pleased, then raised her chin and said in a wicked tone,

“Whatever, heh heh heh.”

“I can just create a copy of you and make it strike whatever dramatic poses I want.”

“And you’ll have to obey!”

Whoosh!

Before she finished, Vira flapped her wings and darted off, leaving a trail of tinkling laughter in the air.

Garoth was used to Vira’s antics.

He rose from the moss, stretched, then spread his wings and lifted into the sky, concealing his aura to avoid notice as he casually overlooked this realm.

Below, the Emerald Homestead no longer looked like the old settlement.

It had grown broader and more prosperous.

Orchards sprawled across the terrain like a colorful brocade draped over the land.

In the glades, small mechanized constructs busied themselves—tending branches and harvesting fruit. The metal plating of those constructs was covered in graffiti: flowers, suns, crooked dragon shapes—works of the fey.

Further off, a cavalry of centaur riders swept across the horizon.

Some fey rode on the centaurs’ broad backs, wings fluttering excitedly, their laughter floating on the breeze.

This was the daily patrol.

But more than patrol it felt like a joyride—the fey enjoyed it and the centaurs happily obliged.

Closer to the settlements one could occasionally spot other great dragons.

Fey clustered about them, tending and decorating dragon scales with petals and dew. Some wiped scales, others applied nectar, some wove garlands, while the dragons lounged in feigned sleep, savoring the ease of this place—occasionally opening an eye to glance around, then drifting back to rest.

The dragons were guardians sent by the Aola Kingdom.

They protected the land with strength, repelling external threats, while the fey merely needed to be joyful, nourishing the earth with their merriment and filling the land with vitality.

Garoth gazed further out.

In regions where malevolent fey dwelt, faint traces of smoke still rose.

From time to time a band of dragons would lead a small force into those chaotic zones.

They performed routine sweeps—decisive killings to cull monsters spawned from negative emotions, while also allowing those negative-fruit to become more mature.

Garoth circled briefly in the air and then descended.

He crossed a babbling creek, passed several massive, flourishing trees, and arrived at an open meadow.

On the meadow lay a dragon over thirty meters long.

A brass-silver Dragon, Deborah.

Her scales blended silver and brass into a rose-gold sheen that caught the sunlight with a gentle luster. Vivid silver patterns adorned the scales like strokes of the finest silver dust, flowing and graceful.

She half-closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun.

The whole dragon radiated lazy contentment.

Near her, three smaller dragons occupied themselves.

A silver dragon with an unusual wing structure lay coiled at Deborah’s side.

She had curled into a circle with her head tucked in her tail, sleeping deeply. Her body had reached the size of a normal adult dragon, much larger than the other two youngsters, breathing steadily and occasionally sighing softly.

That was Isanora.

On another side a barely juvenile brass dragon raced playfully among little flower sprites in the sunlight.

Her scales were bright brass, like a flickering flame when she ran—she chased the sprites gleefully, four legs thundering.

Under the western shade sat a small dragon roughly the size of the brass one.

He was a silver dragon with pale silvery scales, sharper lines and slightly leaner than Isanora. He half-closed his eyes, watching the playful brass dragon, thoughts tucked away somewhere.

Garoth folded his wings and landed beside the brass-silver dragon.

“Back already?”

Deborah opened her eyes.

“Mm.”

“I was just chatting with Vira a while.”

Garoth lay down beside her, pressing near the brass-silver dragon’s flank to feel the warmth and texture of her scales.

At that moment the brass dragon chasing the flower sprites noticed him.

“Father!”

Her eyes lit up and she bounded toward him, carelessly scattering the sprites behind her.

She skidded to a stop in front of Garoth.

She tilted her head up. “Father, my beloved father, I missed you so!”

Garoth lowered his head and looked at her.

Elenor Ignas.

Like the red-gold dragon Gabriel, she had inherited Garoth’s Spell-Extinguishing Claws.

This trait held enormous potential, ranking among Garoth’s most formidable characteristics, nearly comparable to a Dragon Pearl.

But Elenor’s mind was not on battle.

She had little desire for power, and her personality leaned toward that of a normal brass dragon—lively, curious, playful, cheerful.

Her presence once gave Garoth’s grandfather much comfort.

Garoth’s offspring each possessed unique talents and complex personalities, so finding a normal dragon was a rare relief.

“Elenor, my child, I missed you too.”

Garoth extended a claw and lightly stroked the brass dragon’s head.

His claw was larger than her entire head, so he could only gently scratch the top of her head with the tips.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Elenor’s eyes brightened and a mischievous smile appeared. “Since you missed me, play a riddle game with me. We haven’t played in ages.”

Garoth nodded.

“All right.”

Elenor bounded with excitement. “Mother always says I’m a riddle expert! Give me one—I’ll definitely figure it out.”

Garoth glanced at his mate.

Deborah blinked and then resumed feigned sleep.

Seeing that, Garoth withdrew his gaze.

He thought for a moment and said, “What gets smaller as it’s divided and larger as it’s combined?”

Elenor cocked her head and blinked, thinking.

“Smaller when divided… larger when combined…”

“Is it water?”

She tried. “No, water divided is still water and combined is still water. It doesn’t get more or less.”

“Sand?”

She negated that idea too. “No, separated sand is still sand, put together it’s still the same sand…”

Her eyes suddenly brightened.

“I know!”

“Is…”

At that moment a calm, indifferent voice came from the shade.

“Groups.”

Garoth turned to the small silver dragon under the tree.

Sanos Ignas.

On the surface he seemed like a typical silver dragon, only somewhat stockier and larger for his age, with thicker scales and firmer muscles.

Yet, like Garoth’s eldest son, there was a Dragon Pearl within this body.

“Groups? A group split up is less, combined is more… that’s more logical than I thought.”

Elenor murmured.

She turned to Garoth. “Father, is that the answer?”

Garoth said, “My riddles have no single standard answer. If it’s logical, it’s acceptable. Sanos’s answer counts.”

Hearing that, the brass dragon turned to the small silver dragon and scolded.

“Sanos, don’t eavesdrop on my and father’s riddles! And don’t steal my answer!”

The small silver dragon drawled, “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was listening in the open.”

“You… you were eavesdropping!”

“You were so loud I couldn’t help overhearing.”

Elenor snorted. “Just this once, but no more stealing answers.”

“All right then.”

“Anyway, your riddles aren’t even hard. Not answering saves me time.”

The little silver dragon turned his head, feigning boredom.

“Father, another one.”

Elenor looked up at Garoth with big expectant eyes.

Garoth considered and offered another riddle.

“What exists every day but you can never catch it?”

Elenor began musing immediately, muttering to herself.

Sanos remained silent under the tree, glancing over occasionally as if waiting for something.

“It’s…”

“Time.”

Sanos’s voice sounded again, calm and unhurried, like still water.

Elenor shot a glance and then complained, “You awful brother, you stole my answer again!”

The small silver dragon tilted his head and said slowly, “My dear sister, you were thinking so long I thought you wouldn’t get it. I couldn’t just wait forever—otherwise it would be dark by the time you answered.”

He paused and added, “But I won’t steal answers anymore.”

After saying that he turned away, but a faint upward tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

Elenor’s irritation eased, and she turned back to Garoth to continue the game.

“Father, let’s start again.”

Garoth glanced at the small silver dragon and then said to the brass dragon, “Your brother teases you. Deep down he might think you’re foolish, and he’ll steal answers again next time.”

Elenor froze.

Then she whipped her head toward Sanos under the tree.

Sanos still pretended indifference, but his trembling body betrayed him—he was trying to hold back laughter and failing spectacularly.

Elenor’s scales flashed angrily, as if a blaze burned within her.

“Sa—nos—!”

She leapt from the ground and charged toward the shade, claws flailing.

The silver dragon reacted quickly.

Seeing her come, he leapt up and spread his wings to fly away, nimble and swift—obviously practiced.

But he was a beat too slow.

Elenor’s Spell-Extinguishing Claw snatched his hind leg.

She yanked him down from the air.

Bang!

The two youngsters tumbled into a writhing heap, rolling across the grass several times.

“Serves you for stealing answers and calling me dumb!”

Elenor rode atop the silver dragon, striking him left and right with her front claws.

The silver dragon struggled, twisting his body to flip her off.

His Dragon Pearl gave him strength in desperate moments, but in such roughhousing it could not match the Spell-Extinguishing Claw. He simply couldn’t face her head-on.

He had to take the beating.

Nearby a few flower sprites hovered, clapping excitedly at the scene.

“Go Elenor!”

“Hit him!”

“Sanos’s getting beaten again!”

The silver dragon cast them a look in passing and the sprites fluttered away giggling.

Garoth watched without intervening.

He turned to Deborah. “Not sure where this child’s character comes from. Usually she’s calm, but she has a streak of mischief. I wonder where she learned it.”

Deborah studied him with an odd expression.

Garoth waited a few seconds for her to reply and then asked, “Well?”

Deborah withdrew her gaze. “Nothing.”

At that moment a languid voice sounded.

“What’s all the noise…”

Isanora slowly lifted her head.

She had slept for who knew how long and was still heavy with sleep in her silver eyes, gazing about drowsily.

“Elenor… Sanos… are you two fighting again?”

Upon seeing the culprits who had disturbed her, Isanora’s expression sharpened.

That annoyance of being woken was clear on her face.

Under her gaze the two young dragons shuddered and stopped at once.

Elenor still straddled the silver dragon, claws raised; Sanos lay on the ground with his foreclaws over his head. They turned toward Isanora.

Clearly, Isanora held considerable sway in their hearts.

“Don’t disturb my sleep again, or…”

Her voice trailed off into silence as she burrowed her head into her tail and fell asleep, not even noticing Garoth hidden in a blind spot.

Sunlight bathed the meadow; everything settled into quiet.

Only the rustle of wind through leaves and distant, faint fey laughter remained.

Elenor and the silver dragon exchanged a look, glanced at their sleeping sister, and eased up in unison. Eletnor hopped off Sanos; Sanos rose, shaking grass and debris from his scales.

“Next time you steal answers…”

Elenor lowered her voice and wagged a tiny paw.

Sanos said nothing, merely shook himself off.

Silence settled again.

After that, Garoth stayed in the Serene Spirit Wilderness for a while longer.

Feasts, revelry, entertainment…

The fey were warm and exuberant, celebrations nearly every day—today a harvest festival, tomorrow dew-collecting, the day after a moonlight ball.

They always had reasons to celebrate and laugh.

Life here was so pleasant that Garoth could almost forget conflicts and troubles, immersing himself fully in the joyous mood.

The pressures he carried from the Material Plane gradually drained away.

Yet good times were always fleeting.

Garoth knew he had to return to the Material Plane; he could not linger in pleasure forever.

At that moment Vira fluttered over at speed.

“You leaving?”

“Yes.”

The faerie dragon nodded. “I’ll escort you—open a portal for you.”

The Aola Kingdom already had stable planar channels here, but they couldn’t always accommodate Garoth’s passage. When he traveled back and forth he mostly relied on the fey.

This time, however, Garoth looked at her and shook his head slightly.

“No need.”

Dragon Qi churned, surging from his body as six massive arms formed behind him.

Muscles tensed beneath plated scales and sharp talons extended, then they reached out, bending slightly as the claw tips aimed at the space ahead.

The space before his claws began to warp.

Tiny cracks appeared first, like fractures in glass. The fissures spread into an irregular rift. As his dragon-arms bulged, the rift widened until it could admit his whole body.

Vira asked in puzzlement, “What are you doing?”

Garoth said, “After so many trips to the Serene Spirit Wilderness, I’ve learned to control the force and direction. For example, I can tear space directly and shuttle between Bernardo and here.”

He spoke calmly, as if describing something ordinary.

Vira’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as if her jaw might fall.

“No—you can’t do that.”

She collected herself and said, “A normal dragon should stew in heavy inheritance knowledge until their head aches, study complex space and planar lore, master proper teleportation skills… only then can they do planar travel! That’s how real dragons do it!”

“How can you just rip it with your claws?”

Don’t you understand numbers and values? Garoth ignored Vira’s complaints.

Indeed, the normal method required complex knowledge and technique, but he had his own way: raw strength and simplicity.

“Going.”

He leapt forward and vanished into the rift. The fissure sealed slowly behind him until it disappeared.

Vira stared blankly at the spot where he had vanished.

Then her expression shifted—her eyes quickly lit up.

“I’ve decided!”

“In the next version of the story I’ll add this! The great Red Emperor can tear space with his bare claws and wander freely between worlds—oh, just imagining it is thrilling! This is way cooler than any portal!”

She fluttered her wings and flew off in excitement.