Chapter 7: The Diary of the Ancient Dragon

"What is the greatest happiness in this world?"

"Love," someone said.

"No, it's having a mountain-high pile of pearls and gemstones to sleep on every day."

"Wrong, wrong. The greatest joy is feasting on fresh fish."

"Get out!" I roared, spewing a long flame and swatting my tail to fling a bunch of little ones—my grandkids or great-grandkids, who knows—out of my cave. Sigh, even at over 3000 years old, I still have quite a temper.

Every time I lose my temper with the little ones, I feel a deep sense of guilt as I lie on my mountain-high pile of gold and jewels.

What is the greatest happiness in the world?

I grabbed a trout that one of the little ones had brought me as a tribute and took a big bite, white juice trickling down my chin.

What is the greatest happiness in the world?

Ah, I remember now:

Long, long ago, I was just a little green dragon, so small that I didn't even know I was a dragon—I thought I was a puppy. Hoho, my clumsy master, Big Green Mountain, thought the same. Every time he went hunting, he'd take me along. If he hit a target and it wasn't dead, he'd want me to chase it down. I'd run and run, stumbling all the way, never quite catching up.

In my frustration, I'd let out a "ha-hoo" at those poor creatures, and lo and behold, they'd turn into ice sculptures. Haha, back then, I didn't know this was just the natural dragon breath of the green dragon family.

Every evening, after fighting with Big Green Mountain over the roasted game, I'd feel the greatest happiness. After dinner, with the campfire crackling warmly in front of me, I'd rest my head on Big Green Mountain's full belly and count the stars in the sky, one by one. At night, we'd squeeze into the same bed, with him hugging my neck, sleeping soundly.

Those blissful days lasted until we met that cursed sorcerer.

I really miss my friend—Big Green Mountain. Do you know I'm thinking of you?

What's this, wetness? I thought dragons didn't cry.

Excerpts from the Diary of Taimugel, the Sacred Ancient Ice Green Dragon

No one could have imagined that a berserker's afterimages could attack from different angles.

The relentless sound of axes from four advancing afterimages simultaneously targeted Amy's left shoulder, right shoulder, waist, and legs. The berserker in front roared with blood-red eyes reflecting the equally crimson axe blade, descending like a dazzling red meteor.

"Ah!" The few girls in the tavern shrieked, covering their eyes.

"By my name, I summon you—Phantom Beast Spirit Wolf," declared Chihan Feng from behind a massive barrier, already armed with spear and shield, ready to assist Amy.

"No need to help me," Amy shouted, her body moving impossibly as she flipped backward, somersaulting out of the encirclement.

Crackling sounds followed as the berserker afterimages shattered when colliding with the sword's afterimage.

A black sword traced a semicircle in the air, enveloping Amy as it charged toward the berserker. The berserker, unable to initiate another afterimage, conjured countless phantoms with his dual axes to block the blunt sword. Without pause, the black sword rebounded half a meter, slashing down again with lightning speed.

Clang, clang—once, twice, thrice, four times, five, six, seven, eight.

The same position, the same angle, the same black blunt sword, flickering with black lightning. The berserker could do nothing else but meet, retreat, and meet each strike, stepping back to make room for the next flash of the sword. Even a blunt sword, with such force, could cleave a person in two.

The blunt sword rebounded once more, the angle of lightning shifting abruptly into a bizarre arc, appearing simultaneously at the berserker's abdomen. "Ah," he gasped, the chilling black lightning piercing his skin.

"Double-Handed Sword, Waist Severing Technique," someone exclaimed in the tavern.

In an instant, the black lightning vanished, transforming into a fierce gale. The longsword swung vertically, smacking the berserker's abdomen hard. The berserker flew, soaring with his massive battle-axe, disappearing in the direction of the door.

A non-human growl erupted from beneath the treehouse tavern, tearing through the snow-reflecting night, pulling at everyone's hearts.

The large treehouse tavern swayed like leaves in a storm, its walls creaking. "Boom," the west side of the building seemed unable to withstand the pressure and burst open, a massive figure wrapped in the cold wind stormed in.

"He's berserk!" voices cried out in alarm.

Thud, thud. Heavy footsteps, the mountain berserker reappeared, burning with rage, his body twice its size, ripping his upper clothes to shreds, red sweat oozing from every pore. A purple scar marked the spot where the sword had hit his abdomen. His blood-red eyes almost popped from their sockets.

"You will all die!" Ignoring the tables, chairs, and patrons, the berserker charged at Amy like an enraged bull, splintering furniture like paper.

In an instant, Amy recalled Chihan Feng's words about berserkers from their tactical lessons—if a berserker is a "war machine," then a berserk berserker is a terrifying "destruction machine." Berserk is a unique skill of berserkers, trading life for tenfold combat power. Some berserkers, frequently going berserk, can no longer revert to normal. They ignore ordinary attacks—unless beheaded, a berserker maintains his destructive might. Commanders handle berserker camps with extreme caution; conventional siege warfare prohibits deploying berserkers, for even a few going berserk could reduce a city to ruins.

On his first adventure, facing such an opponent, Amy felt like he'd hit the jackpot. Nervously gripping his sword, the black lightning appeared once more, ready to strike—

"Enough," a commanding voice rang out. The berserker collapsed among the debris like a mountain.

An elder stepped out from the Magic Guild, his red robe bearing the insignia of an Archmage: "Mercenaries, we cannot stop your duels, but if a spectacle turns into destructive war, that's something we do not wish to see. Let's applaud today's warriors who gave us a free show of sword afterimages and berserker afterimages, oh, and the noble Phantom Beast Rider and his charming spirit wolf, let's applaud." The elder returned to the Magic Guild's building afterward.

The berserker's companions rushed to help him up but found that, still in his state, he had petrified like stone.

"He'll return to normal after two hours," a nearby Intermediate Mage kindly informed them.

With the Archmage's intervention, no one dared to provoke further without equal strength. A few elves quickly performed restoration magic on the gaping hole in the wall, and the supporting tree soon sprouted new branches, sealing the breach.

Until then, Amy had doubted the power of mages. As a traditional knight, Chihan Feng rarely spoke of mages in class. But seeing an invincible warrior rendered helpless in an instant, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Hey, don't be stunned," Chihan Feng pushed a drink toward Amy. "Try this; it's good. This is the Treehouse Tavern's specialty, Thousand Herb Leaf Brew, with benefits like refreshing, beautifying, and boosting recovery."

"You shouldn't be so surprised. Today, we encountered opponents you'd never meet ordinarily. The total population of mountain berserkers is only about 300,000, with fewer than 100,000 in military service. Only 500 can produce four afterimages, fewer than 100 can produce five, and fewer than 10 can achieve six afterimages. And Archmages, in the current Amy Empire, there are only five, with one in the Wish Tower, leaving just four. Including those in seclusion, the total shouldn't exceed 100."

"Amy, did you hear what I said? Once you become a Phantom Beast Rider, you can use your beast's levitation to easily kill that berserker. As for facing an Archmage, well, unless he simultaneously strikes both you and your mount, if you can't win, you can at least flee quickly—sigh." The nobleman consoled himself with a resigned sigh.

"Mind if I sit here?" A withered, dirty, blackened hand rested on the table edge.

"Ugh," said the nobleman, having just been with a beautiful woman, and now facing such a stark contrast, sprayed his drink all over the owner of the hand.

"No worries, I don't mind, I'm used to it, especially from you." Beneath the foam was a tangled mass of white hair, belonging to a wizard. But compared to the dignified red-robed Archmage, this wizard was a sorry sight. His face was all wrinkles, eyes sunken, nose hooked, mouth flat, draped in a tattered, fishnet-like blue robe—marking him as a neutral mage, holding a long staff. The tip, where a magical stone should have been, was broken, leaving one to wonder what kind of stone it once held, if he could still afford one.

"Heh-heh, save it, old man. Posing as an Archmage, are we?" Chihan Feng pulled at the mage's fishnet badge. "If you're going to fake it, at least get it right. This badge has a problem—where there should be the symbol of the neutral sea, you've got a waterfall."

"You, young man, I'm looking for someone."

"Don't know." Though a noble, manners quickly faded after the initial meeting.

"Do you know Chi Ningyuan?"

"Ah," Chihan Feng froze for a moment, then shook his head, "Don't know."

"Oh, Chi Liushui?"

"Don't know," Chihan Feng kept shaking his head with practiced rhythm.

"Let me think," the old mage scratched his wet hair with claw-like hands. "Chi Chi Hongyun?"

"No," Chihan Feng swallowed hard, "I mean, I do know." His demeanor instantly turned honest.

"You're a Chi too, what's your name?"

"Chi Chi Chi Han Feng."

"Ning, Liu, Hong, Yuan, Da, Han, Long, Xiao Han, Han—little rascal, little rascal!" The old mage's bony hand swung up, landing heavily on Chihan Feng's flowing hair. "You say you don't know, eh? You don't know your ancestors?"

Amy watched dumbfounded, "Wow—seeing Uncle Chi, who always teases others, getting a taste of his own medicine—it's great!" he thought, but dared not say.

"I, do I know them? They've been dead for hundreds of years, and you didn't ask if I knew of them."

For the first time, Chihan Feng was like a child, arguing like a child.

"No excuses, excuses are just cover-ups." Ha, every time I explained why I didn't call my girlfriend on time, I'd hear this familiar line. The old mage smacked Chihan Feng's head twice more. "Just like that cheeky Chi Ningyuan, your ancestor, who once splashed Thousand Herb Leaf Brew all over me at this very tavern. Aiter, bring me a large cup of Thousand Herb Leaf Brew, your finest roast chicken, and, hmm, a lovely hostess, a human one from the Aiminor continent. Charge it to this young man." After signaling Aiter, the old mage subtly gestured at Chihan Feng.

Boom—like a fallen hero, filled with shock, disbelief, and resignation, Chihan Feng collapsed under the table.

"Everyone, don't worry, he's just had a bit too much to drink, he'll be fine soon," the old mage reassured the patrons.

"Hey, young one, how are you?" The mage's furry head nudged closer to Amy.

"No, no, I'm not a Chi, and I have no money, see?" Having witnessed the Archmage's power, the boy quickly turned his pockets inside out, framing Chihan Feng, "He has all the money; we just met. No, we don't even know each other." His small black tail trembled behind the innocent deer façade.

"Oh, just want to ask you about someone."

"Help, robbery!" In the short span of events, it seemed the 14-year-old boy had reached his breaking point, screaming loudly. But his heart sank when he found he couldn't make a sound.

Red-robed mage flashed in his mind, and Amy tried to jump up—oh no—tried to jump up for help, but found himself frozen like the berserker moments before.

"Lek Habber, do you know him?"

"I don't know anyone, please spare me, dad, my dad," Amy mouthed silently.

Evidently, the old mage understood his plea. With a snap of his bony fingers, Amy fell to the floor.