From that day on, Jiang Luo and Cyril took up residence at the Dazhao Monastery.
He and Master Chengde busied themselves every day discussing the “descent of the true god.” To deceive people, simply relying on the monastery’s publicity wasn’t enough—they needed miraculous signs, the kind only a “deity” could produce.
Jiang Luo planned to summon the Chen Dragon from the Yin-Yang hoop.
The Dazhao Monastery was built against a mountain. In the early mornings, thick mist blanketed the peaks, obscuring everything. If Jiang Luo could summon the dragon and ride it, circling above the monastery, it would serve as powerful evidence supporting the claim that a true god had descended.
At four or five in the morning, when the mist was thickest, Jiang Luo would arrive at the mountaintop on time to attempt summoning the dragon of the twelve zodiac beasts.
He had long had enough power to summon any of the zodiac, but the Chen Dragon simply didn’t want to respond. Not because he couldn’t summon it—but because dragons are prideful and lazy by nature. It refused to show up easily.
But the more arrogant it acted, the more interested Jiang Luo became in taming it. He was so determined that he only slept three or four hours a night, spending the rest of his time trying to win over the dragon. His persistence made Cyril admire him deeply.
If Cyril had to endure what Jiang Luo did, he wouldn’t last a day. Though he didn’t understand Jiang Luo’s obsession, he couldn’t help watching in awe—and a bit of fear—as Jiang Luo returned at midnight and left again before dawn, day after day.
After five or six days of this, the dragon finally deigned to emerge from the Yin-Yang hoop. It lazily coiled atop a massive boulder, dragon claws resting on the ground, its thick golden tail swaying lazily, dragon whiskers floating in the still air. Its majestic appearance was undeniable, but it kept its eyes shut, dozing off, too lazy to even look at Jiang Luo.
Despite its sleepy demeanor, its aura was unaffected. The golden dragon was powerful and regal, its body covered in glowing runes like golden scales—cold, sharp, and imposing. Just one glance was enough to leave Jiang Luo spellbound.
Who hasn’t dreamed of having a dragon as a mount?
Jiang Luo’s eyes burned with desire. He crept silently up to the dragon’s head, cautiously reached out, and gently stroked it, praising, “You look so mighty.”
The dragon acted like it hadn’t heard, keeping its aloof air and not giving Jiang Luo the slightest reaction—but it subtly stretched its body to appear even more majestic. Its sharp claws nonchalantly swiped across the boulder, slicing it cleanly in two.
Jiang Luo’s heart blazed with excitement. He gazed at the golden dragon as if it were a lover, his eyes full of admiration. His voice grew even more sincere. “You’re amazing—truly worthy of being the legendary dragon. Not only do you look incredible, but you’re also so powerful. I’ve never seen a dragon as strong as you. No wonder you’re so hard to summon—you must be the strongest of all twelve zodiac beasts…”
“Your horns are beautiful too, with those patterns—look so tough. I bet you could knock over a whole mountain with them, huh?”
Jiang Luo’s words grew softer and sweeter, as if flattery cost nothing. The dragon’s whiskers twitched with pleasure, and it snorted contentedly.
This chaotic little human had good taste.
But it didn’t notice that while it basked in the black-haired youth’s praise, said youth was quietly creeping onto its back.
Now’s the time!
Jiang Luo suddenly flipped over and mounted the golden dragon, tightly gripping its twin horns.
The Chen Dragon was furious. Its eyes snapped open—narrow dragon eyes that were incredibly lifelike and filled with fury. The ferocity in its gaze struck straight to the soul, and its golden vertical pupils radiated a chilling rage. With a roar, it shot up into the sky, and the powerful astral wind it stirred up nearly blew Jiang Luo off its back.
Jiang Luo clung on tightly, pressing his body low against the dragon to avoid really being thrown off.
The Chen Dragon, its horns held, struggled violently, almost flinging Jiang Luo off several times. But Jiang Luo barely managed to stay on. When he looked down, Dazhao Temple had already shrunk to the size of a palm.
The unruly dragon beneath him was still rolling through the clouds, tumbling and spinning in all directions. Jiang Luo couldn’t help but love this wild streak—it made his blood burn. Despite the nausea from being tossed around, he laughed out loud, heartily.
That laughter clearly enraged the dragon even more. The mighty golden dragon threw back its head and let out a thunderous roar. Its tail stilled, then it spun around and dove straight toward the mountain below at lightning speed.
It was even more thrilling than a roller coaster—plummeting from thousands of meters in the sky like a shooting star. Jiang Luo felt his heart leap into his throat. He stared dead ahead at the mountain rushing toward him and refused to let go of the dragon horns.
Just when he was bracing for impact, the Chen Dragon suddenly flicked its tail and soared upward along the cliff face, finally coming to a smooth stop on the flat peak of the mountain.
With an annoyed shake of its body and a loud snort, it then lowered its head to let Jiang Luo dismount.
Jiang Luo understood then—he had tamed this beautiful, powerful zodiac beast.
From that day on, Jiang Luo trained on the mountaintop day and night, practicing dragon riding. While he was thoroughly enjoying himself, Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu were practically pulling their hair out.
Because the fifteen-day deadline set by Chi You now only had four days left.
Their lips were chapped from anxiety, and their faces were constantly clouded with worry. Over the past few days, they had tried everything they could think of, but Jiang Luo’s entire mind was occupied with taming the Chen Dragon—he hadn’t picked up on any of their hints at all.
With only four days left, they had no choice—they needed a ruthless move. If it didn’t work this time, it was truly over.
That night.
Taking advantage of the darkness to avoid being seen, Jiang Luo was heading up the mountain to take the Chen Dragon for a spin. As he passed through the courtyard, he saw Ge Zhu standing by the well, talking on the phone.
“Brother…”
That word drifted to Jiang Luo’s ears, causing him to stop in his tracks and perk up his ears to listen.
But Ge Zhu had already ended the call. As Ge Zhu put his phone away and turned to head inside, Jiang Luo cleared his throat and called out, pretending to ask casually, “Ge Zhu, who were you on the phone with?”
Ge Zhu answered honestly, “Ge Wuchen. I was asking how the search for Teng Bi’s information is going. He said it’s too late tonight, but tomorrow he’ll go ask Chi You about Teng Bi.”
Jiang Luo was momentarily stunned. He stepped forward. “Chi You is back?”
But he felt a bit guilty.
These past few days, he had been so focused on taming the Chen Dragon that he had completely forgotten about Chi You. He hadn’t paid attention to anything related to him.
But on second thought, Jiang Luo started to feel a bit uncomfortable.
Chi You was back—so why hadn’t he heard anything?
Hadn’t that guy said before they parted ways that once they were done with their respective tasks, they would go find each other?
He felt a little annoyed, but he quickly forced it down. He gave Chi You a mental excuse—this was a Buddhist holy site, and Chi You was still severely injured. There was no way he could come in, so of course, he hadn’t come looking for him.
Thinking that way, Jiang Luo felt better. He smiled unconsciously. “When did he come back?”
But when questioned, Ge Zhu’s answer was vague and disorganized. He never got to the point Jiang Luo really wanted to know. “I think he’s back? I’m not too sure. Oh, Jiang Luo, did you know? Ge Wuchen told me that the corpse herder Liao Si, the one who used to compete with us, is also one of their people! He’s from the old Liao family in Xiangxi’s corpse herding tradition. He actually joined Chi You… That Fated One’s followers are all over the country. I even heard that some people from the Xuanling Bureau are his followers too. Can you believe that…?”
Ge Zhu mentioned everyone—except Chi You.
Jiang Luo listened patiently for a while. When he realized the topic was drifting further and further, he couldn’t help but interrupt, “Did Ge Wuchen say anything else about Chi You?”
Ge Zhu shook his head. “No.”
Jiang Luo’s brow twitched slightly. He folded his arms and tilted his chin toward Ge Zhu. “Contact him.”
“Who?”
“Ge Wuchen,” Jiang Luo replied. He paused, then added, “Video call.”
Clearly, the Ge brothers had much more reliable contact methods than Jiang Luo and Chi You did. Not only could they video chat, they probably had each other’s live stream accounts too. Ge Zhu obediently sent a video call request to Ge Wuchen, and soon, Ge Wuchen accepted.
Jiang Luo stepped forward and stood beside Ge Zhu, glancing into the camera. He was about to say “Give the phone to Chi You,” but he swallowed the words back. He frowned. “Where are you? Is Chi You with you?”
Ge Wuchen wasn’t wearing his usual monk robes. He was dressed casually for once, wearing a hat, his lips red and teeth white like a college student. The background in the video was brightly lit, and the ceramic tiles on the floor reflected a harsh glare. There was a small table by the wall piled with dishes—it was clearly a restaurant.
Jiang Luo immediately felt something was off. Unknowingly, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. Ge Wuchen hadn’t expected it to be him and was clearly surprised. Then he tried to deflect, “Benefactor Jiang, still awake this late? Is something the matter?”
Jiang Luo stared at his every expression and lowered his voice, slowing his words, emphasizing each one: “Where are you? Is Chi You with you?”
“…Master is here too,” Ge Wuchen’s eyes flickered, and he avoided looking directly into the camera. “Benefactor Jiang, I’ve got something to do right now, let’s talk later. Goodbye.”
After he finished speaking, he hung up the video call without waiting for Jiang Luo’s response.
Something was definitely off.
Jiang Luo had no idea what Ge Wuchen and the others were doing at the moment, but his expression darkened uncontrollably. He tried calling Ge Wuchen back via video.
No one picked up. After a while, the call disconnected on its own.
Ge Zhu cautiously asked, “Jiang Luo, what’s wrong?”
Jiang Luo forced a smile and tossed the phone to Ge Zhu. “Nothing. I’m heading back.”
Ge Zhu raised his voice behind him, “Aren’t you going up the mountain?”
Jiang Luo walked straight back to his room. His voice trailed behind him, laced with a chill. “Not going.”
Lying in bed, Jiang Luo tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Ge Wuchen’s odd expressions and behavior kept replaying in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more those evasive eyes loomed larger and larger, burdened with all sorts of possible meanings.
Why didn’t he dare look at me?
What are he and Chi You doing?
Jiang Luo thought about it half the night, until he finally dozed off around dawn. But he hadn’t been asleep for long when Wenren Lian dragged him out of bed. Still foggy, Jiang Luo didn’t know what was going on when Wenren Lian’s delighted voice sounded by his ear, “Jiang Luo, I have great news—you’re going to love this.”
Jiang Luo yawned. “What good news?”
“You can break up with Chi You now!”
His remaining drowsiness vanished instantly. “What did you say?”
Wenren Lian’s face was beaming, practically glowing with joy. “Chi You came back two days ago, and he brought back a lifesaver. Apparently, this person rescued him when he was injured, and even got hurt for his sake. Chi You took him to the hospital himself.”
“Last night, Ge Wuchen and the others were called out by Chi You to treat that person to a meal. The lifesaver won’t be discharged for another three days. I heard he couldn’t stand hospital food, so Chi You took him out for a better meal. Just think about that—since becoming a ghost, has Chi You ever been this considerate? A guy that strong getting injured and needing to be rescued? Bringing that person back with him? He’s definitely interested in that man.”
Wenren Lian added with satisfaction, “Ge Wuchen even took a photo of them eating and sent it to Ge Zhu. I saw it. That guy looks like he’s in his twenties, seems to like Chi You too, and he’s good-looking. They actually seem like a great match. Jiang Luo, you’re free now. Totally free. No need to deal with Chi You just because of us!”
Jiang Luo was silent for a moment. “Where’s the photo?”
Wenren Lian really did take out a photo for him.
In the photo, a group was seated around a dining table. All of them were Chi You’s subordinates—except for a young man who didn’t fit in. He had fair skin, short hair, and a gentle, clean appearance. His smile was a bit shy but still sunny, and he was sneaking glances at Chi You from the corner of his eye.
It was clearly a candid shot Ge Wuchen had taken casually. The angle was from a distance, and only half of Chi You’s body was visible. He looked relaxed and composed. His handsome face wore a faint, neutral expression, but he was lowering his eyes and, with a graceful hand, was picking up food and placing it in the young man’s bowl.
As Jiang Luo stared at the photo, a powerful wave of jealousy mixed with rage surged up. He stared fixedly at Chi You’s hand, eyes dry from not blinking.
Wenren Lian was still smiling, “This is a good thing, right?”
Jiang Luo forced a smile, but his gaze was dark. “Right.”
Wenren Lian said, “We have to celebrate!”
He left in a hurry.
Jiang Luo continued staring at the photo—for a long, long time. Only when the phone screen went dark did he realize he had been staring blankly for half an hour.
