Chapter 2: The Grey Dragon, Guhan

It was another beautiful morning in Donghou—the kind where the breeze carried the scent of pine and distant incense, and even the chickens sounded less annoying.

"Old man, what is this fish?" Gu Yuhan asked, eyeing the strange black-scaled catch flopping lightly in a bucket.

"I've no idea," Uncle Mo replied with a chuckle. "Caught it by chance. But let me tell you—edible and delicious. Might be the spices you gave me, but even plain, it's good."

"Uncle Mo, do you have a death wish? It's too early in the morning for poison roulette. You've still got a daughter to raise!" Yuhan shot back, eyebrows furrowed.

"Bah! Quit whining. I'm giving it to you for free," Uncle Mo grunted, waving him off.

Yuhan's eyes narrowed. "And the condition?"

A spark flickered between them like the calm before a storm. Uncle Mo slowly pointed a weathered finger at Yuhan.

"Cook."

"Challenge accepted," Yuhan smirked, rolling up his sleeves as he slipped behind Uncle Mo's stall.

He swiftly set up the cooking base, stacking the firewood with practiced ease. With a simple flick of his finger, a small flame sparked to life, catching onto the wood until the heat rose steadily beneath the pan. A splash of oil followed, shimmering as the pan warmed.

Yuhan moved like a seasoned pro—clean, efficient, no wasted motion. He sliced through the black-scaled fish with surgical precision, deboned it in seconds, and laid the fillets into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. A handful of umami-rich ingredients followed, the aroma immediately wafting into the air.

"You bring the spices I gave you?" he asked without turning.

"Here..." Uncle Mo handed over two spice jars.

Yuhan gave each a shake, measuring by instinct, then sprinkled them in with care. The fragrance shifted, sharper now, more refined.

Uncle Mo glanced over his shoulder—still no rush of customers today. He leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing at Yuhan's seamless performance.

"Yuhan… be honest with me. You sure you weren't a chef for the imperial family?"

"Nope. Never was, never will be," Yuhan replied coolly. "If I were a chef for the imperial family, why the hell would I be out here flipping fish for free?"

"True, true…" Uncle Mo muttered, scratching his head.

"Hooh! Is it really hot today, or is it just the fire and cooking?" Yuhan lightly complained, tugging at the collar of his grey polo. "We're outdoors, damn it—why does it feel like a furnace?"

"The Season of Summer's approaching," Uncle Mo said matter-of-factly.

"Hm. That might explain why you caught this fish—could be migrating to warmer waters," Yuhan noted, flipping the fillet with a practiced flick.

"Eh? Then how come I didn't catch one like this during last year's Season of Summer?" Uncle Mo asked, raising a brow.

Yuhan shrugged. "Don't know. I'm no zoologist."

"What's a zoologist?"

"Be quiet, the first fish is ready," Yuhan cut in, focused. "Grab me that plate."

Uncle Mo handed it over, and with a smooth motion, Yuhan plated the sizzling fillet. He gave it a quick sprinkle of salt for the finish—simple, clean, delicious. Then Yuhan puts in another fish

After a few more minutes, Yuhan shifted his focus to preparing the rice, letting the next batch of fish sizzle in the pan behind him.

"Uhm…" came a soft, feminine voice from just outside the stall.

Both Yuhan and Uncle Mo turned toward the source—and immediately recognized the woman standing there.

"Wait a sec, I know you. You're that lady who asked me about the kid," Uncle Mo said, squinting slightly. "Lang Zexian, right?"

Lang Zexian gave a small, slightly embarrassed nod.

"What brings you here, ma'am?" Yuhan asked politely, not pausing his rhythm as he stirred the rice and kept an eye on the fish.

"W-Well," she stammered, fidgeting slightly, "I smelled something really good, and, uh… after today's intense training, I guess I got a little hungry. Hehe…"

Right on cue, her stomach growled—loud enough for them both to hear.

"Let me guess… a two-hour sparring session? Maybe a little weapon form practice on the side?" Yuhan said dryly, flipping the fish with a casual wrist flick, still not looking up.

Lang Zexian smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Guilty."

"Well, as long as the old man's fine with it, you can join us," Yuhan said casually.

"You can join us, lady," Uncle Mo echoed with a grin.

Lang Zexian smiled with visible relief and ducked behind the stall, sitting down beside them. Her eyes locked onto Yuhan's cooking—wide, sparkling, and unmistakably hungry. A bit of drool betrayed her composure.

After finishing the third black-scale fish, Yuhan expertly portioned out three bowls of steaming rice, layering neatly cut slices of the perfectly cooked fish on top of each.

The moment Lang Zexian took her first bite, her expression lit up. "Mmm!" she moaned, practically melting on the spot. "Are you an imperial chef or something?! This is heavenly—no, godly!"

Uncle Mo laughed heartily. "Told you! I said the same thing before you got here."

"Nope," Yuhan replied flatly, taking a seat across from her. As he sat, he reached up and casually removed his mask.

Lang Zexian froze.

Her chopsticks halted mid-air. Mouth slightly open. Eyes locked onto his face like she'd just uncovered some divine treasure. Handsome—no, stupidly handsome—and young. The kind of face that screamed either "hidden young master" or "reclusive expert who could vaporize you with a flick."

"Is… is this why he wears the mask?"

Her mind spun with questions, but her stomach grumbled louder. Before she could utter a word, Yuhan glanced at her and said, "Food's getting cold if you just sit there gawking."

Snapped out of her daze, she blinked rapidly and returned to eating—silently wondering what other secrets this masked cook was hiding.

As the three of them ate, both Yuhan and Uncle Mo found themselves glancing at Lang Zexian—then at each other—then back at her.

She had already cleaned out her third bowl of rice, all with just one serving of fish. Meanwhile, the two men were still halfway through their first.

"…This is something I've never seen a woman do," Uncle Mo muttered, leaning slightly toward Yuhan. "Not even my wife. Not even my daughter."

"Yeah, same," Yuhan murmured back, still chewing. "This isn't woman-like, believe me."

Lang Zexian let out a deep, satisfied sigh as she set her third bowl down like a champion finishing a match.

"Hoh! That hit the spot! I think I can spar for another five hours straight now!" she said, stretching her arms behind her head, visibly energized.

Without a word, Yuhan stood, gathered her empty bowls, and neatly stacked them.

"Rest your body first," he said plainly. "Let the food settle and the nutrients do their job."

Uncle Mo nodded in approval, pointing a chopstick her way. "He's right, lass. Don't burn off that masterpiece too fast."

Lang Zexian just grinned, the warmth of a full stomach and unexpected company putting her in high spirits.

Then Lang Zexian spoke up, her tone more serious than before.

"Say, Sir Gu Yuhan?"

"Yes?" Yuhan replied while stacking the bowls neatly on a tray.

"Aren't you worried that the Ao family and the Lei family will come for revenge? I mean, they already know who hurt their young masters. Both families are pretty influential around here—hell, even in a few neighboring provinces."

Yuhan glanced at her, calm as ever.

"You know, ma'am—"

"Just call me Zexian," she interrupted with a faint smile.

Yuhan gave a short nod. "Alright, Zexian. There's something I always say, though many people find it... negative."

He straightened up and looked her in the eye.

"I always say: 'If anything—negative or positive—let them come.' If the Ao and Lei families decide to band together, then why not face them head-on? Isn't that more logical than running away? Sure, fleeing lets you see another day—but then you're stuck constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering when they'll catch up. That's not acceptable for my taste."

He paused, his gaze unwavering.

"Sure, I might lose my life. But I'm confident in my skill... and myself."

"But both of them are already in the Unity Fusion Realm," Lang Zexian said, her voice dropping just a bit in seriousness.

Then, she heard it—barely—a short, almost-silent breath from Yuhan. A scoff? A stifled laugh? She couldn't tell.

"D-Don't tell me..." Zexian narrowed her eyes, suddenly looking at him not as a casual cook or passerby—but as a potential martial monster.

"Well," Yuhan said, scratching his chin casually, "if both of them are in Unity Fusion... remind me again, how old are they supposed to be?"

"They just turned nineteen," she replied. "Both of them. I'm twenty, and I've just reached the doorstep of the Immortal Realm—Great Ascension."

"And you, sir Gu Yuhan?" she asked, leaning slightly forward, tone respectful but curious.

"Twenty-three." He looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, "Same rank as you. Great Ascension Realm."

What he didn't say, and what she couldn't know, was that he had long surpassed that threshold—already on the edge of the God Realm. But he chose not to step forward. Not yet.

"Huh..." Zexian tilted her head, suspicion flashing in her eyes. "Well, maybe you do have a chance. But after seeing how effortlessly you handled those two... I feel like you're lying."

Yuhan side-eyed her, his expression unreadable—cool, steady, but not denying anything.

Zexian gave a soft chuckle to herself. "But hey, who am I to question someone about their realm? Everyone has secrets."

"Hey! I have an idea!" Lang Zexian suddenly beamed, eyes sparkling like a child with a brand-new sword. "Since we're both on the doorstep of immortality, why don't we spar? I know the perfect place!"

Yuhan slowly turned to look at Uncle Mo.

The old man didn't say a word—he didn't have to. His face screamed, "Boy, you're gonna murder her by accident."

Yuhan turned back to Zexian, expression flat. "Let's not. We might accidentally level a block or two. Wouldn't want people thinking I'm some rampaging cultivator."

"But this place is special!" she insisted, clasping her hands excitedly. "Neutral ground, totally legal! Affiliated or not, anyone can spar there. And I know the receptionist—she owes me a favor. I can get you an 80% discount!" She added a wink for good measure.

Uncle Mo leaned in, stroking his beard. "Well, Yuhan-boyo, if the lady's extending the invite... might as well."

Yuhan side-eyed the old man. "What are you scheming now, old man?"

Uncle Mo shrugged with a grin. "Live wild while you're young, rest easy when you're old. That's how life should be."

"Seriously—what the actual fuck, old man," Yuhan muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Lang Zexian was already bouncing on her feet, practically dragging him by the arm. And for once, Yuhan let himself be pulled along.

With a final motion, Yuhan pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at Uncle Mo—"I'll be back for you later," the gesture silently said.

Uncle Mo just chuckled, waving them off with the kind of smile only old fools and proud fathers wear. "Hah... nice to be young. Bold, reckless, and stupid—but full of fire," he mumbled to himself.

He lowered himself into his creaky stool behind the stall, the scent of cooked fish still lingering in the air. The sun was beginning to climb higher, warming the wood beneath his arms. Uncle Mo crossed his arms, leaned back, and exhaled.

"This generation's youngins are bold... let's hope they're smart too."

And so he waited—patient, unbothered—as the quiet chatter of the street resumed and he waited for the next curious customer to wander by his humble fish stall.

Meanwhile, Yuhan let himself be dragged along by the eager Lang Zexian through the bustling training grounds of the dojo. They paid the entrance fee—discount included, thanks to Zexian's "connections"—and strolled past sparring rings and clashing disciples until they found a vacant platform.

Yuhan's eyes calmly swept the space. Weapons lined the walls. Racks of spears, swords, and quarterstaves stood beside boxes filled with enchanted gear and reinforced armor. But he bypassed it all.

Instead, he picked up a single roll of cloth bandage. With practiced ease, he began wrapping it tightly around his right arm—just one arm. Just one roll. No gauntlets. No amulets. Just cloth.

Zexian, on the other hand, went straight for a pair of qi-enhancing wristbands. She strapped them on with a satisfied grin. "These amplify both physical and elemental strikes. Let's make this interesting," she said, her eyes gleaming.

She turned and noticed Yuhan still tying his bandage.

"Hmm? You don't want to amplify your punches, sir Yuhan?" she asked curiously.

"I'm more of a physical attacker. I don't feel comfortable with anything else," Yuhan said calmly, flexing his wrapped hand.

Zexian nodded. "Mhm, then tell me when you're ready!" She stepped forward, her stance low and balanced—right leg forward, both fists raised, eyes focused.

Yuhan simply exhaled. He lifted his right arm high in front of him, like a relaxed guard. His left hand stayed clenched at his hip, like a coiled spring waiting to snap.

There was no tension in his body. Just calm.

"Ready." His tone was quiet—but absolute.

The instant Zexian rushed in, her speed left afterimages—a blur of motion fueled by both cultivation and pure adrenaline. Her opening high kick whistled through the air toward Yuhan's head, but he tilted just enough for it to pass clean over his shoulder.

"Wow! Most people wouldn't have reacted to that!" she laughed, dropping low into a stance and unleashing a rapid volley of fists.

Yuhan moved like flowing water, gliding past her strikes with unshaken calm. When three consecutive jabs came at sharp angles, he finally moved his arms—not to block with brute force, but to gently deflect them, parrying with open palms and short, fluid movements.

"Come on! Don't be a coward—hit me already!" Zexian teased, backing up and circling as she caught her breath.

Yuhan didn't pursue. He just followed with light sidesteps, calm and unreadable.

"Hey, Yuhan," she said between breaths, "why haven't you hit me yet?"

"I'm curious," he replied. "I want to see what else you'll try."

He cut his words short mid-sentence when she lunged again. This time, she led with her shoulder and spun into a hook punch. Yuhan caught her wrist in one hand and stopped the momentum, his eyes still coldly neutral.

"Hmph! If you hit me, I swear I'll treat you to Mistfield Cow meat—high quality, better pri—"

Thud

Zexian's body locked as a jolt of pain shot through her side. She dropped to one knee, gasping. Yuhan's left palm had struck her kidney with pinpoint precision.

There was no wind-up. No warning. No forceful shout. Just a quiet, precise palm that found its mark the moment she let her guard down.

Yuhan then casually fixed himself as he stood up, breathing calmly to relax his body. Then said, "Three kilos of that meat."

The sharp pain she felt immediately disappeared. She looked confused.

"Come on. I won." Yuhan extended his hand toward Zexian, who hesitated at first.

"That..." Zexian spoke.

Yuhan looked at her.

"WAS SO COOL!" Zexian said with enthusiasm.

"Ow, that hurts. I shouldn't move that fast."

"Are you really at the same rank as me?" Zexian asked, narrowing her eyes.

"That's just what happens when you go up against a physical type. Don't whine about it if it hurts," Yuhan said calmly.

"Tch—fine, that was pretty awesome. A deal's a deal. I'll get you two kilos of Mistfield Cow meat," she muttered.

"Three kilos," Yuhan said without missing a beat.

Zexian groaned. "You do realize how expensive that stuff is, right?"

"Two and a half," he replied, arms crossed.

She sighed in defeat. "Ugh. Deal. You're milking this, I swear."

"Eh? Isn't that Lang Zexian?" a voice called out.

Both Yuhan and Zexian turned toward the source—and saw a young woman with long, dark emerald green hair walking over.

"Xue Cailian?" Zexian blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The girl smiled, graceful and striking in her appearance. "Oh, just finished practicing my sword forms a while ago. Then I stumbled upon the legendary top student Lang Zexian herself!" she said with a teasing smile.

"Spare me the sarcasm. Weren't you just about to leave?" Zexian shot back.

"I was," Cailian shrugged. "But when I saw you, I figured I'd stick around a bit longer."

As she stepped closer, her eyes landed on Yuhan, who was calmly re-rolling his bandage.

"Hmm? Who's this? Your boyfriend or something?" she asked with a playful smirk.

With a typical flustered reaction, Zexian stammered, "W-W-What are you even saying!? Yuhan's not my boyfriend! We've only met like… twice! I just invited him for a spar, that's all!"

"Heh? You sure about that?" Cailian teased, folding her arms. "Well, why don't I just ask him directly? He is right here, after all."

Zexian blinked and turned—only to let out a startled yelp when she realized Gu Yuhan was already standing calmly behind her, having caught the whole conversation.

He gave a slight nod and greeted, "Hello, Miss. I'm Gu Yuhan. If I heard her correctly, you're Xue Cailian?"

Cailian nodded with interest. "Hoho… Polite, strong and handsome. So—are you her boyfriend? You two definitely give off that vibe."

Zexian looked ready to combust on the spot, clearly not handling the teasing well. Meanwhile, Yuhan offered a faint smile and replied with calm composure, "No. As she said, we've only met twice. She's simply an acquaintance. Don't mistake us for something else—I have no plans for a relationship, not yet."

"Hmm? I like your honesty," Xue Cailian said with a playful smirk. "Say, do you still have the energy to spar with me?"

"Xue Cailian!" Zexian interjected sharply. "He just finished sparring with me! He needs to res—"

"I don't mind," Yuhan cut in coolly. "But it won't be free."

Cailian raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Oh? Anything will do as a reward, right? I'm fine with that."

Yuhan tilted his head slightly. "And what exactly can you offer in a friendly spar like this? It's not like it's a proper duel."

"I'll tell you after the match," Cailian replied, her tone teasing and mysterious.

He let out a slow exhale, his eyes narrowing with focus. "Random… I'll take that."

As Gu Yuhan and Xue Cailian made their way toward the training weapon racks, the air around them buzzed with quiet anticipation. Yuhan calmly scanned the selection, his fingers brushing over the hilts and grips, weighing each one with practiced instinct.

Lang Zexian stepped beside him, her voice low and serious. "You're really going to spar with Xue Cailian? I know she's not the top of our class, but she's right on the cusp of immortality. Her growth rate is unreal."

Yuhan didn't take his eyes off the weapons. "There's no backing out now, is there? Besides…" He glanced at her with a faint smile. "I don't plan on losing."

Zexian frowned, clearly uneasy. "Just… be careful. She's got a tough body. Physical attacks won't faze her much."

Yuhan's hand finally settled on a weapon. "Who said I'm going all physical this time?" he replied calmly, his tone steady.

As Yuhan selected his weapon, he and Cailian stepped up onto the sparring platform, eyes locked and footsteps steady.

Cailian took her stance first, confidently wielding a gleaming guandao. She gave it a few sharp spins, the blade slicing through the air with a low hum.

Yuhan, calm as ever, revealed his choice—a fairly long sword, balanced yet imposing, gripped casually in his left hand.

Cailian raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "Hey, don't get cocky now. You're really using your off-hand against me?"

She gave her guandao a light swing, the motion deliberately taunting as she narrowed her eyes. "Hope you're not planning to hold back."

Yuhan didn't say anything. Cailian does her posture and stance. Meanwhile Yuhan didn't do any posture or stance. He just stands there with his sword still lowered

Cailian clicked her tongue and surged forward, her guandao slicing through the air with a strike that screamed guaranteed victory. It was inches from Yuhan's head—until it passed through an afterimage.

"What—?" she blinked.

Clang!

Her weapon was suddenly parried from the side. She barely had time to process it before Yuhan countered with another deflection. The platform rang with the sharp clash of steel on steel as the two exchanged rapid blows.

"Tch! Why don't you just admit defeat already?!" she shouted, leaping into the air and bringing her guandao down in a crushing overhead slash.

But Yuhan, as calm as ever, took a step to the side. Her blade crashed into the platform, sending a jolt through the wood.

In that opening, Yuhan stepped onto the flat of her weapon, pinning it down. He leaned in, his voice low and cold.

"Shabby technique. You lose focus over emotions. Cocky. Reckless. That's not how a dragon should behave... is it?"

"What?"

Before she could respond, his knee crashed into her gut. The impact launched her off the platform like a ragdoll.

"Now fly, like the foolish dragon you are," Yuhan muttered.

As Cailian hurtled through the air, the second blow came—midair. Yuhan's kick struck true, sending her crashing into a wooden pillar. It splintered under the force, the impact echoing through the dojo.

"Huh... Am I going to have to pay for the damages?" Yuhan asked, casually pointing at the broken pillar while looking at Zexian.

Zexian sighed. "The only reason the entrance fee is that high is because they use it for stuff like that—repairs, maintenance, you name it."

"Hm... Maintenance, huh? Guess I won't worry about it then," Yuhan said with a shrug.

Meanwhile, Cailian coughed, still slumped against the cracked wooden pillar. Her mind was in turmoil.

"Why? How does he know I'm a dragon? Even Zexian doesn't know... Did someone leak it? Did my clan send someone to bring me back?" Her thoughts raced. "Even if they did, there's no way they'd hire a human. I thought he was on Zexian's level..."

As she tried to steady her breathing, she saw a pair of shoes stop in front of her. Looking up, she found Gu Yuhan, calm as ever, with his hand extended.

"Get up," he said simply. "Sorry for going rough on you. Zexian told me you're tougher against physical attacks. Guess I shouldn't take her word for everything."

"I can hear you, you know?" Lang Zexian called out from the side.

Yuhan gave a small nod, acknowledging her, but kept his eyes on Cailian. When she hesitated, then reached up and took his hand, he added:

"Now, about the reward. As agreed—the loser owes the winner. What will you offer?"

Xue Cailian looked up into Yuhan's eyes, her expression suddenly serious.

"May I… request we speak in private?" she asked quietly.

Gu Yuhan nodded. "Sure, sure." Then he turned his head and called out, "Hey, Lang Zexian! Is there a private room or somewhere we can sit and talk? Cailian wants to discuss the reward with me… in private."

Lang Zexian raised a brow, instantly suspicious. "Eh? Why can't I hear what she's offering you as a reward, huh? Don't tell me..."

"If your brain goes anywhere weird again," Yuhan cut in with a flat tone, "I'm not giving you Lingyuyuan next time."

"Fine! Fine!" Zexian huffed. "Follow me, there's a lounge down the hall."

With that, she turned and led the way, muttering something under her breath as the other two followed.

As Lang Zexian slid the door open, she revealed a quiet room with a simple couch and low table inside.

"Here. I'll grab some snacks real quick. Don't leave before I get back," she said, shooting a glance at both of them before shutting the door behind her.

Now alone, Cailian opened her mouth to speak, "Now that Zexian has left, I want to—"

But Yuhan interrupted, his tone calm and unflinching.

"So why is a dragon from the Dragon Lotus Clan wandering around the human realm? And not just wandering—training in a human martial arts sect, no less?" He looked her straight in the eye. "You do realize your clan's reputation is known across all realms, right? Even the elders must know what you are. So why hide here? Why live like an immature idiot, sparring with mortals?"

He leaned back slightly, arms folded. "Don't get me wrong, Dragon Lotus Arts are strong. Good even. So what are you doing here, Cailian?"

"Alright, I get it! I get it! Jeez!" Cailian threw up her hands in frustration.

Yuhan said nothing—just crossed his arms, expression flat and clearly disappointed.

After a moment, Cailian frowned and asked, "But seriously… how did you know I'm a dragon? And from the Dragon Lotus Clan, no less? I thought I had my disguise and deception down to perfection."

"That's more the Black Cloud Dragon Clan's specialty," Yuhan replied flatly. "Besides, it's obvious. I'm honestly surprised Zexian hasn't noticed. Your posture, your aura suppression, even your movements—too clean for a human."

Cailian narrowed her eyes. "Okay, then. How do you know all this? In fact… who are you, really?"

Yuhan went silent. Then, without a word, he reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a surprisingly modern-looking wallet. From it, he produced a slim, ornate card and held it up.

Cailian's face went pale. Her eyes widened.

"N-No way… That's the Dragon Lotus Clan's benefactor card!"

When Yuhan set the card down on the table, Cailian leaned in—and froze. It was real. Authentic. The gold trimmings along the edge shimmered faintly: three lines. Highest level privileges. Only a select few in the entire world could possess something like that.

Then, without a word, Yuhan casually pulled out two more cards.

Cailian's breath hitched. Her heart raced.

"By the Dragon Empress… that's the White Snow Dragon Clan's Benefactor Card… and—"

Her voice cracked.

"T-That's… the Golden Dragon Clan's Protector Card..."

She stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, fear, and awe.

"Wh-Who are you…? A monster?" she whispered.

Yuhan didn't flinch. He merely crossed his arms, then one leg over the other, calm as still water.

"I'm the one human even dragons know not to mess with. These cards? Just trinkets now. They gather dust. One action—just one—and they know exactly who I am."

He picked up the cards and slid them neatly back into his wallet.

Then he leaned back and looked at her with a quiet intensity.

"Let me introduce myself again. My name is Gu Yuhan… though perhaps you'll recognize me better as The Grey Dragon, Guhan."

"G-Guhan?!" Xue Cailian's voice trembled, her mind reeling. The name alone echoed like thunder in her thoughts—The Grey Dragon, the mysterious legend spoken of only in whispers among the highest circles of the Dragon Realm.

"And now…" Yuhan said, voice calm as still water, "let's talk reward."

"Y-Yes! Anything! Anything for someone like you!" Cailian stammered, her usual confidence completely shattered.

Yuhan simply raised a finger to his lips.

"For now," he said softly, "just call me Gu Yuhan."

"Y-Yes! Gu Yuhan!" she quickly corrected herself, bowing slightly. "What reward… are you looking for?"

Yuhan didn't hesitate. "Twenty kilos of Dragon Rice. Ten kilos of Dragon Ginger. Half a kilo of the highest-quality Dragon Ginseng. And finally—" he took a deep breath, "—just give me a variety of vegetables grown in your clan's territory. Shouldn't be too hard to remember, right?"

Cailian blinked.

"…What?"

She stared, completely dumbfounded. Of all the things he could have asked for, this was it?

"Well, if I didn't know you were a dragon," Yuhan said casually, "I would've just asked for money. But that's my offer. Oh yeah—add ten bottles of Dragon Wine."

Xue Cailian exhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Am I seriously talking to the legendary Grey Dragon?"

"Is there a problem with my request?" Yuhan asked, tilting his head slightly.

"No! No, not at all," she quickly said. "I can get all of that easily. It's just… the Dragon Wine part might need some convincing. I'm technically not old enough to drink it."

"That's fine. If they say no, I still have two bottles left at home." Yuhan shrugged, completely unconcerned.

"Also," Yuhan added dryly, "I doubt you'll get all that stuff easily—seeing as you ran away from your clan, judging by the looks of it."

Xue Cailian blinked. "How did you know I ran away?"

"It's obvious. Why else would a member of the Dragon Lotus Clan be here? They don't leave their territory. Bunch of NEETs holed up like hermits."

"What's a NEET?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Shut up."

"Fine..." she grumbled.

"Well... as for my circumstances—" she began, only for Yuhan to cut her off.

"You ran away because your parents arranged a political marriage with some 'ideal' husband. To avoid that mess, you disguised yourself as a human, joined a sect, trained like one, and somehow made friends with an actual human."

"...Y-Yes," Cailian muttered, her voice low as she twirled a strand of her hair, clearly embarrassed.

Yuhan facepalmed. "Damn it. I was hoping for something unique. Turns out it's just another cliché."

Yuhan tried his best not to completely lose his composure. His hand hovered near his temple, eyes half-lidded in disbelief. "Please… tell me. Who is this 'ideal' husband your oh-so-wise parents picked for you?"

Xue Cailian hesitated, then quietly said, "Well… his name is Tianlong Zhangteng."

Yuhan blinked. His expression shifted—confusion first, then a twitch of the brow. "Zhangteng? That idiot dragon?"

He leaned back slightly, arms crossed as he tried to piece it together. "Why'd you run away from a guy like him? He's not great, sure—but he's not terrible either. A decent dragon, from what I know. Bit of a show-off, but respectful where it counts." His voice drifted off, thoughts running deeper now that things weren't as predictable as he feared.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this cliché.

Cailian raised an eyebrow at his reaction. "Judging by that face, you do know Tianlong Zhangteng, don't you?"

Yuhan's lips curved into a half-smirk, half-sigh. "Let's just say… I know him well enough to make fun of him at every banquet he shows up to."

Yuhan leaned back, rubbing his temple as if the weight of this absurd revelation gave him a sudden headache.

"Though I'm confused," he said, voice deadpan. "Why run away from him?"

Xue Cailian looked away, her tone shrinking. "W-Well… there was this incident. A few years ago… rogue dragons raided a joint celebration between our clans, and I… kind of… may have run away instead of helping." She twirled a strand of her hair again, refusing to meet his gaze.

Yuhan paused, his fingers now scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Huh… wait. Zhangteng mentioned something like that to me. Said it happened about three years ago… and he ran away, too."

There was a beat of silence. Then Yuhan sat up straight with a click of his tongue. "Ah, wait a fucking minute. I've seen this before… This is one of those mutual embarrassment tropes."

He pointed a finger at her like he'd just solved a mystery. "Why not just talk to him? Clear the air. Be honest. You both ran. You're both dumb. There. Bonding material."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Cailian groaned.

"How should I know?" Yuhan threw his arms up. "You're dragons! Legendary beings! When did dragons start running from conversations? What is this, the anxious generation? Where's the fire-breathing courage?"

Xue Cailian remained silent.

Yuhan sighed. "You know what? I'll arrange a meeting between you two. Clear up this whole mess. I'll sponsor it myself."

"What if… I don't have the courage to face him?" Cailian muttered.

"Then I'll go straight to your parents and tell them where you are. I'll even drag them along to help you both sort this out," Yuhan replied bluntly.

"Alright! Alright! Fine!" she snapped, flustered. "So when do I meet him? And where?"

"Good. Then listen closely…" Yuhan said, leaning back as he began explaining the plan.

About thirty minutes later, the door slid open. Lang Zexian stepped in holding a basket of bread and drinks.

"Hiya! I'm back!" Zexian enthusiastically said as she puts the basket of bread on the table. Yuhan picking one piece and eating it

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Both parties—Yuhan, Cailian, and her friend Zexian—parted ways.

As they walked, Zexian kept pestering Cailian with questions. "So? What did you give him? Come on, tell me!"

"Just... ingredients," Cailian replied with a sigh.

Zexian pouted, visibly annoyed. "Seriously? He used both of us just to gather stuff for some dish?"

With each step, she became more convinced. "I swear, that guy's probably a chef or something…"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Dragon Realm, a man with dark raven-blue hair walked calmly down a long, ornate hallway.

"Good afternoon, Tianlong Zhangteng," a servant greeted, bowing respectfully.

Zhangteng offered a confident smile as he passed, continuing on until he stopped in front of a door—likely his quarters.

He entered, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. With a sigh, he made his way to the mirror.

"Sigh Zhangteng, when are you going to grow a spine and find Xue Cailian?" he muttered to himself, staring at his own reflection.

But then, in the mirror, he noticed someone behind him—sitting casually in a chair, legs propped up on the table.

"Didn't know you had a girl, Zhangteng-boy," said Gu Yuhan, smirking.

Zhangteng immediately turned around, startled by Yuhan's sudden appearance.

"G-Guhan! Jeez, don't scare me like that," he said, quickly regaining his composure. "And what are you even talking about?"

"Xue Cailian. She's in Donghou. And for some reason, she wants to talk to you," Yuhan replied casually.

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Zhangteng blinked in disbelief.

Yuhan leaned back and explained what had happened—how he met Cailian, their spar, and the unexpected truth that came out of it. Zhangteng listened in stunned silence, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Cailian had met him, the Grey Dragon—Guhan.

After a pause, Zhangteng finally asked, "You sure that plan will actually work?"

Yuhan gave a shrug and an unamused look. "I literally stole from your family's treasury just to help you two settle this stupid misunderstanding. So yeah... that better be worth it."

"Fine! Fine! Say, thank you for helping me with this whole predicament. I thought I had run away and left her fuming. I'm a worthless soon-to-be husband, huh?" Zhangteng muttered, gripping his hair in frustration.

"Oh? So you like her?" Yuhan suddenly asked, his tone teasing and full of energy.

"No! That just slipped out because of the whole arranged marriage thing our families set up!" Zhangteng shot back quickly.

"Aha, so you do like her." Yuhan grinned, voice sharp with amusement.

"Guhan!" Zhangteng growled, his face turning red.

Yuhan stood up, walking over to slap a firm hand on his shoulder. "Oi, idiot dragon. Don't forget to invite me to your wedding."

"I will! I will! Just don't crash it or anything!" Zhangteng huffed, exasperated but smiling.

Yuhan simply nodded before stepping out through the window without hesitation. Zhangteng's eyes widened as he rushed over, only to see Yuhan already plummeting toward the clouds below. In seconds, the Grey Dragon disappeared into the thick mist, swallowed whole by the sky.

Meanwhile, far below in the wilds of the Dragon Realm, three cultivators were locked in a losing battle against a Demonic Bear. Their robes were torn, bodies bloodied, their qi nearly exhausted.

The Demonic Bear roared, its claws raised for a final blow—until a thunderous strike came down from the heavens.

Boom!

A shockwave rippled through the trees. Smoke and dust clouded the forest floor, and the Demonic Bear collapsed in a heap—dead in a single instant.

The three cultivators coughed, scrambling to see what had happened.

When the smoke cleared, a figure stood atop the bear's corpse. His grey polo t-shirt a bit dusty, and a simple black mask obscured the lower half of his face.

"E-Expert…!" one of the cultivators whispered, awestruck.

As Yuhan calmly stepped down from the Demonic Bear's massive corpse, he looked over the three battered cultivators with a casual air. Then, almost too casually, he said:

"Hello, cultivators of... whoever you are. Mind telling me the direction to Donghou?"

The three blinked, stunned, before one of them shakily raised a finger and pointed west.

"Thanks!" Yuhan gave a quick salute—then vanished in a burst of lightning-speed movement, disappearing in an instant.

The cultivators stood there, stunned.

"D-Did an immortal just descend from the heavens...?" one of them muttered, still in disbelief.

Chapter ends