Chapter 64: What Is a Dragon

The silhouette of the tiger-drake was immense, so large as to be astonishing. Its size was not its only remarkable trait; from within and without, it exuded an aura of terror and majesty. This aura was something that Quanxi could never hope to possess, yet he could sense with chilling clarity that, should this colossal creature wish to end his life, it would be as effortless as him killing a fish.

A thunderous roar grew ever closer. Quanxi clenched his fists tightly. It was almost laughable—this behemoth, whose vast form appeared sluggish and unwieldy, moved several times faster than he could. If he tried to flee, escape would be impossible.

“What are you?”

Just then, a cold spiritual force enveloped Quanxi. Immediately, another voice echoed in his mind, its source unmistakable—the tiger-drake.

The creature could not speak as mortals did, but it commanded its intent by extending its consciousness, making itself understood to other living beings. Yet, often it failed to gauge the strength of this power; many creatures had perished under the pressure of its psychic force. Over time, after many such deaths, the tiger-drake gradually learned to restrain itself, but even so, few denizens of the deep could withstand or reply to it. Only the rare merfolk could ever respond to its questions, and from them, the tiger-drake had gathered scattered news: they had all fled from the Merfolk Royal Court, escaping the endless wars that ravaged their homeland.

As the years passed, the tiger-drake grew weary of these stories—until today, when it encountered Quanxi, an anomaly among the sea’s denizens.

Why call him an anomaly? It was because the tiger-drake sensed something familiar in Quanxi—spiritual energy. Quanxi bore an aura that set him apart, and so the tiger-drake had hastened to meet him. Quanxi, for his part, was stunned to discover that the tiger-drake possessed true intelligence, but soon regained his composure. The world was vast and full of wonders; before reaching the land, Quanxi had not known of the existence of the Feathered Folk or the mysteries of the surface world. The power of the Merfolk Royal Court did not span the whole ocean—much of it remained uncharted and unknown.

“I am Quanxi, a merfolk,” he introduced himself, steadying his heart.

“Merfolk?” the tiger-drake questioned, peering intently at Quanxi before declaring, “You do not look like one. You lack a tail fin. You are not merfolk.”

“I was a merfolk once. Because of certain events, I shed my tail and went ashore,” Quanxi replied without hesitation, sharing his story with the tiger-drake. The creature listened with keen attention, making no move to interrupt.

Once, the tiger-drake had been driven mad by a torrent of spiritual energy, venting its wild urges throughout the ocean. Yet, after thirty or forty years of tranquility, it had grown calm, its former savagery replaced with a touch of humility and curiosity—relative only to its past self. Even now, to the ocean’s creatures, the tiger-drake was a tyrant none could withstand.

So the conversation stretched on, seven days and seven nights passing in the telling. Quanxi’s experiences were so extraordinary that even the tiger-drake was enthralled, listening intently. Whenever Quanxi grew hungry, the tiger-drake would hunt great beasts of the sea—giant inkfish, enormous sharks—catching them with ease, while Quanxi never stinted in recounting his adventures.

“The land is indeed wondrous,” the tiger-drake marveled. “Were there a chance, I should like to see it for myself, to behold its landscapes.”

“You are far too large; it would be difficult to go ashore, would it not?” Quanxi laughed lightly.

Over these seven days, the two had grown familiar, bantering with each other with ease.

“Is that all?” the tiger-drake retorted, unconcerned. After glancing at Quanxi, it gathered its spiritual energy; in the blink of an eye, it transformed, taking on the appearance of a refined young gentleman—a human form.

“How do I compare to the merfolk and feathered folk you remember?” the tiger-drake asked with a mischievous smile. “What do you think of this skill?”

“You…” Quanxi was dumbfounded. “How long have you cultivated? Why is your spiritual energy so boundless?”

“Cultivation? I have never cultivated,” the tiger-drake replied, shaking its head. “After you spoke of cultivation, I tried it myself. Although I possess spiritual energy, I cannot draw more from the world outside… Somehow, it seems as if my body contains something that produces spiritual energy on its own. My strength always remains at this level—it can diminish, but never increase.”

A hint of melancholy flickered across the tiger-drake’s face.

Yes, its strength was forever fixed, unable to advance further.

Though it had calmed itself by venting its desires, it had lost its innate form and could not, like the legendary Bifang, evolve and ascend to higher realms.

“I do not know why, but there is always a whisper deep within me,” the tiger-drake confessed, opening its heart to Quanxi as one would to a friend. “A voice that repeats a single word: ‘dragon.’ Becoming a dragon is my life’s pursuit. If I cannot transform, I will remain as I am, trapped until death.”

What was a dragon? The tiger-drake did not know. It only knew it was the thing it longed to become. No one could tell what a dragon truly was. Perhaps, if it kept cultivating, it might one day find its chance to transform. Yet it had chosen to propagate its kind, thereby forsaking that opportunity.

“Dragon?” The unfamiliar word left Quanxi puzzled. He fell silent, then said, “I do not know what a dragon is, but I believe someone must know. The divine bird Bifang of the Southern Continent, the supreme Primal Gods… surely they would know what a dragon is.”

With that, Quanxi turned to the tiger-drake. “I must go. I have been away from the Royal Court for far too long, and I cannot wait any longer to return, to see my younger brother, the King of the Merfolk, Quan’an.”

“Quan’an?” The tiger-drake cocked its head, thinking for a moment before saying, “I know that name. Six years ago I met some merfolk. They told me that King Quan’an had died. The Royal Court is in chaos now, with would-be kings everywhere. Many cities are at war, the smell of blood is thick, and that whole sea is almost uninhabitable.”

The words stunned Quanxi.

“You mean… there’s civil strife in the Merfolk Royal Court?”

“Yes.” The tiger-drake nodded, then burst into laughter. “I have nothing better to do—why not accompany you to the Royal Court? Afterward, you can join me on a journey to the Southern Continent and seek out that divine bird Bifang. We can ask together what a dragon truly is. What do you say?”

Without hesitation, Quanxi agreed. “Yes!”

If the Royal Court truly had fallen into chaos, he alone could not hope to quell it. But with a fearsome tiger-drake at his side, everything would be different.