After all, according to ancient legends, the Huaxu clan conceived Fuxi by stepping on the footprint of the Thunder God Dragon King, which is why the Human King possessed the Dragon race's bloodline.
Only now did he realize he had misjudged the cause and effect: it wasn't that he gained the ability to tame dragons because he wielded the ancient zither, but rather that Yun Qingrao herself flowed with true Dragon race blood.
But the Dragon race is the imperial lineage of the Demon Clan, and has been an enemy of the Human race for generations. How did she manage to conceal this from all the powerful figures?
As he pondered, the pond water suddenly rippled, and Yun Qingrao emerged from the water.
A dragon tail covered in silver scales swayed gracefully, her frost-like skin shimmered against the water, and the heart-protecting scales on her chest outlined a breathtaking curve, almost causing Qing Feng's state of mind to waver.
The mystery was finally solved: she was a half-human, half-dragon being.
Such a mixed-blood physique was truly precious among the Human race, especially after the internal war a thousand years ago.
The Human race had long abandoned sectarian biases; any prodigy possessing Human race blood, even with half Demon Clan lineage, was regarded as a treasure.
Qing Feng suddenly realized an even trickier problem: how should he respond next?
The current situation was purely accidental. He was clearly startled awake by the abnormal spiritual energy fluctuations nearby, and thus passively witnessed this unexpected event. The key was, would this Dragon race Saintess believe his explanation?
As an ancient remnant, the Dragon race's wisdom was on par with the Human race's, and their individual combat power surpassed all living beings.
Unlike the Fox Clan, which specialized in strategy, or the Bear Clan, which focused on charging, the Dragon race members' personality spectrum was extremely complex.
Though there was no unified standard, historical records indicated that Dragon race Saintesses often possessed a certain pure quality, either single-mindedly devoted to cultivation or reaching a state of madness in martial arts refinement. This Yun Qingrao clearly did not belong to the type given to sensual indulgence.
Qing Feng's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and a thin layer of sweat seeped into his palms.
If he appeared now to explain, there was a ninety percent chance he would be killed on the spot; if he remained hidden, there would be no room for maneuver once the other party discovered him. Even worse, he suddenly realized he had been staring at her for over half an hour, which was enough to turn an “unintentional mistake” into “deliberate peeping.”
The Dragon race's unique sensory talent blared an alarm in his mind. He quickly activated the Turtle Breath Art, his aura merging with the surrounding vegetation and rocks. This top-tier concealment technique from the Profound Heaven Sect now plunged him into an even deeper dilemma: continuing to hide would be tantamount to admitting wrongdoing, while actively appearing would be like throwing himself into a trap.
“He who hesitates is lost,” he recalled his Master’s admonition, his fingertips unconsciously digging into a rock crevice.
The most ironic thing now was that no matter which path he chose, he was destined to be in an absolutely passive position.
Those heroic rescue scenes in storybooks turned out to be such deadly traps in reality.
Behind the rock wall, Qing Feng's pounding heart vibrated his eardrums.
If Yun Qingrao's secret of possessing Dragon race blood were discovered, it would likely invite pursuit from the powerful figures of the Three Realms.
Qing Feng pressed his face against the cool mountain stone, his breathing becoming extremely light under the drive of his survival instinct. “To not look at what is improper is the way of a gentleman…”
Morality and the urge to survive clashed fiercely in his sea of consciousness, so Qing Feng simply adjusted his posture and focused on admiring the silver light shimmering in the pond.
The hem of his dark outer robe had somehow become wrinkled, and he inwardly cursed his current despicable behavior, silently engraving “next time bathing, first scout within a ten-mile radius” into his cultivation rules.
Fine ripples spread across the pond's surface, and Yun Qingrao's long, silken hair fanned out like an ink wash painting.
She lightly tapped the water with her fingertips, and the investigative barrier constructed by the Eight Sounds of Luoshen glowed faintly.
This secret art, inherited from the great deity Fuxi, could sense all things in heaven and earth, unless the other party possessed an independent small world.
Her usually cool and clear eyes, now moistened by water, surprisingly revealed a unique youthful vitality.
Qing Feng's pupils suddenly contracted. Amidst the misty vapor, the dragon tail scales shimmered with a moon-like glow, and the shed old scales transformed into specks of light, merging into a white dragon phantom.
The Dao aura flowed around Yun Qingrao, and although her realm had not risen, her overall aura resonated deeper with the Nine Curves Pond's water veins, seemingly on the verge of breaking through the profound realm of unity between heaven and man.
“So it was meant to be here…” Qing Feng suddenly understood the reason for the surge in spiritual energy within the pond.
The Dragon race inherently controls the pivot of water veins, and each time Yun Qingrao shed her scales, it subtly aligned with tidal patterns. No wonder the Nine Curves Pond's spiritual mist was boiling today.
However, this realization was soon dispersed by surging romantic thoughts; the graceful silhouette outlined by the water ripples was breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight.
Qing Feng's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, and an unprecedented ripple arose deep within his Dao heart.
He finally understood that the four words “form is emptiness” recorded in ancient texts were merely a self-deceiving trick used by the sages.
As dusk settled, amidst the swaying bamboo shadows, Qing Feng held his breath, coiling behind the green stone. In the misty vapor, Yun Qingrao's jade feet lightly touched the water, humming an unknown folk tune.
Moonlight flowed around her body, and the silver scales at her waist receded into her skin like a receding tide, instantly transforming into straight, jade-like legs.
With a gentle wave of her delicate hand, all the scattered dragon scales by the pond were collected into a brocade pouch, and even the footprints on the moss by the pond were meticulously wiped away.
Only when that pure white figure dissipated into starlight did Qing Feng, supporting his numb knees, rise.
The back of his robe was already soaked with cold sweat, and his fingertips still trembled slightly from forming hand seals.
He self-deprecatingly pulled at the corners of his mouth, indeed fulfilling the old saying, 'to die beneath the peony is to be a romantic ghost.'
Just as he was about to turn back, a golden light suddenly shimmered from the bottom of the pond. This anomaly stirred his heart, and his knuckles unconsciously tapped the jade token at his waist.
When did the Chen Ming Peak of the Beast Taming Sect hide such a profound secret?
As the Water Repelling Art unfolded, a fish-shaped aura shield spread around him, reflecting the strange dark patterns at the bottom of the pond.
A hundred zhang deep, half a bronze beast head was strikingly embedded in the stone wall, spewing obscure runes from between its fangs.
As Qing Feng's palm touched the seal, an ancient dragon roar directly struck his sea of consciousness, shaking him so much that he staggered backward.
This pressure was by no means from an ordinary demon; it was more like… He abruptly withdrew his hand, and the fragmented records from the Beast Taming Sect's library suddenly appeared before his eyes.
“Martial Uncle, something big has happened at the Cold Pond of Chen Ming Peak.” When the on-duty Disciple saw the soaking wet Qing Feng rush into the Disciplinary Hall holding his personal jade token, he had no idea what kind of sharp glint was flickering in the eyes of this usually lazy junior martial uncle.
“It’s not to question the Beast Taming Sect’s foundation, which ranks among the five great immortal sects in the world, but rather that its true strength has yet to be fully displayed.” Qing Feng retracted his sword and was about to withdraw.
Suddenly, an anomaly occurred deep within the Cold Pond; the dragon scale fragments at the edge of the sealing array suddenly glowed intensely, resonating with the suppressing runes.
Accompanied by a deafening dragon roar, a colossal dragon phantom formed from profound water surged out, sweeping towards him with an overwhelming force.
Qing Feng's pupils contracted sharply, and the Autumn Water Sword unsheathed in response.
Unlike Qi Yuancheng's earth-shattering sword moves from Hu Ji Peak, he now gathered all the spiritual energy of the entire Cold Pond into his sword tip. A seemingly simple and unadorned move, “Myriad Rivers Return to the Flow,” was executed, and wherever the sword edge passed, the water dragon was cut in half at the waist.
However, the severed dragon body did not dissipate; instead, it erupted into thousands of starlight-like specks of light, containing power comparable to an immortal or Buddha descending upon the world, and the entire water region seemed to be enveloped by an inverted galaxy.
A fatal sense of crisis surged directly into his spiritual platform, and Qing Feng no longer held back his strength.
The Autumn Water Sword invoked the clouds of the Nine Heavens, its sword light piercing through heaven and earth, and the entire Xiao Yao Peak trembled violently.
