Fenrir looked like a child who had gotten into trouble, lowering his once-proudly raised head.
His sharp claws rested gently on the ground.
What a well-behaved child.
Ren Asakura saw this and smirked mischievously.
"I like well-behaved kids the most—so don't yell!"
After all, noisy kids are the last ones human traffickers want to deal with.
As expected, bratty children are disliked no matter where they are.
"You win," Fenrir said.
His voice was deep and regal, yet somehow still sounded like a child no matter how one heard it.
Ren Asakura nodded.
"Yes, we won! And now we meet you—the King of Earth and Mountains, Fenrir!"
Fenrir tilted his head.
"You know who I am?"
"Of course we do."
Ren's smile turned positively devious.
"And I'm also very close friends with your sister, Jörmungandr. The closest of friends, really. If she knew I was here, I'm sure she'd want to pour her heart out to me."
His grin grew even more cunning—like the Big Bad Wolf lying to Little Red Riding Hood.
"You know my sister? Really?"
Fenrir's eyes were suddenly wary.
Ren's tone became solemn—more sincere than ever—carrying the weight of absolute conviction.
"You have to believe me. Besides, what could a tiny human like me possibly do to you? Isn't your sister really cute? Very beautiful, very gentle, with thick, long hair and the sweetest voice ever?"
Fenrir's gaze was pure and innocent. Hearing such praise for his sister, he immediately let down his guard and nodded vigorously.
"She really is! You do know my sister!"
Fenrir's voice sounded a little excited.
Ren Asakura shamelessly tricked the child.
And that child happened to have the intelligence of a three-year-old.
Lu Mingfei let out a breath of relief now that the danger had passed.
He had been prepared to draw the Seven Deadly Sins and go full dragon-slayer mode if anything went wrong.
"Here, take some!"
Fenrir happily offered his treasured bag of potato chips.
The way he shared his favorite snack so selflessly moved Ren Asakura deeply.
Truly, good kids only exist in other people's families.
At home, it's always the little brats.
And so, Ren began building rapport with Fenrir—talking like a human to humans, and like a dragon to dragons.
A true social genius: in just three minutes, he'd gotten the Dragon King to lower all his defenses.
Only then did Lu Mingfei have time to look at the stunning beauty in his arms.
Ahem. "I'm a decent guy. Better wake her up. I think I need to press the philtrum…"
Mai opened her eyes—and saw Lu Mingfei's serious face.
His hand was pinching the area under her nose.
"What are you doing?" Mai asked, squinting.
Lu Mingfei pulled his hand back.
"Of course I was pinching your philtrum!"
Mai shook her groggy head.
Suddenly, she remembered what she saw right before fainting—the Dragon King.
She had blacked out due to the absolute bloodline suppression and draconic pressure.
That kind of pressure was enough to cause her heart to explode and her organs to shut down.
The fact she was still alive was nothing short of a miracle.
Mai stood up from Lu Mingfei's arms, and as soon as she steadied herself, she saw the man and the dragon chatting and laughing in the distance, like old friends reunited.
"It's really hard to imagine—before firearms existed, how on earth did the dragon slayers manage to kill monsters like that?"
The history of the dragon race had long been buried.
Only among the hybrids could fragments of true dragon history still be glimpsed.
Lu Mingfei stored the alchemical blade Seven Deadly Sins back into his spiritual sea to continue nurturing it.
"Pretty cool, right?"
Lu Mingfei wasn't affected by the Dragon's Might in the slightest. He showed no fear at all, even though Fenrir could easily bite his head off with a single turn.
But Mai couldn't do the same.
Because this fear came from her bloodline.
At that moment, Old Tang also walked forward.
"Long time no see, little brother."
The Four Elemental Dragon Kings were all children of the Black King.
Which meant the eight of them were siblings.
Fenrir raised his head to look at Old Tang, his massive and imposing dragon head stretching forward.
Then his nose twitched slightly.
He had smelled the scent of flame.
"You're my brother?"
From behind Old Tang, a small head peeked out.
"Hi, Brother Fenrir!"
That little head belonged to Constantine—the child who always hid behind his brother.
Old Tang affectionately ruffled Constantine's hair.
"You must have sensed my aura. After all, I am the King of Bronze and Flame."
Even dragons knew the sorrow of blood. Loneliness could drive one mad.
Only among their own kind could they find warmth and solace.
So when Fenrir saw a fellow dragon—and a brother at that—he was thrilled. He waved his arms excitedly.
"Let's watch TV! I'll show you TV! It's the best!"
This innocent child still didn't understand the laws of the dragon world. Just as humans had to learn, so did dragons.
Fenrir had never left this alchemical labyrinth since birth. Everything he knew of the outside world came from television.
With the mind of a three-year-old, Jörmungandr had no way of teaching him the brutal truths of dragonkind.
In the world of dragons, the strong live, and the weak die.
For pureblood dragons to grow stronger, they had to devour their kin.
Devour other pureblood dragons.
That was the reason Jörmungandr had once infiltrated Kassel College.
She wanted to devour Constantine to gain power and evolve into the Death Goddess, Hel.
Fenrir's massive claws fumbled around in the darkness until he pulled out a bulky 40-inch old-fashioned TV set.
He carefully plugged it in.
The screen flickered a few times, then began to play.
It was a movie.
Stephen Chow's The Saint of Gamblers.
Fenrir had clearly watched it many times, but still watched with the same rapt attention, the same serious expression.
He even brought out his best stash of snacks.
To him, family was something to be cherished. Though mentally just three years old, Fenrir longed for kinship. For a thousand years, only his sister Jörmungandr had been with him.
So when the King of Bronze and Flame appeared, he brought out his best treasures.
These were the snacks Jörmungandr usually bought for him on her trips outside.
Jörmungandr, in truth, loved her brother very much. After a thousand years of companionship, even a dog would grow attached—let alone a blood brother who trusted and loved her unconditionally.
But now the Black King was awakening.
And all the traitors who had once rebelled would be held accountable.
To prepare for the coming storm…
Jörmungandr had no choice but to give birth to the Death Goddess Hel.
The reason Fenrir called Jörmungandr his "big sister" was simply because his intelligence was too low.
In his mind, Jörmungandr—so clever, beautiful, gentle, and mature—could only be the older sibling.
°°°
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