2026-05-14 09:00:49The wind brushing against the lavender obsidian of the Dragon’s Throat no longer carried the scent of ozone or the metallic tang of siphoned life. Instead, it was sweet, heavy with the aroma of blooming silver lilies and the crisp, clean chill of mountain snow that was finally melting under a sun that had earned its right to shine. Li Feng stood at the edge of the jagged precipice, his fingers tracing the cool star-iron railing of the observation deck. For the first time in his life, he
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Chapter 95 The Wedding of the Sun and Moon
The wind brushing against the lavender obsidian of the Dragon’s Throat no longer carried the scent of ozone or the metallic tang of siphoned life. Instead, it was sweet, heavy with the aroma of blooming silver lilies and the crisp, clean chill of mountain snow that was finally melting under a sun that had earned its right to shine. Li Feng stood at the edge of the jagged precipice, his fingers tracing the cool star-iron railing of the observation deck. For the first time in his life, he wasn't looking at the horizon for the streak of a Reaper or the crimson bleed of a celestial gate. He was simply watching the way the afternoon light danced across the glass-smooth floor, turning the purple stone into a sea of liquid amethysts.He looked down at his arms, where the sleeves of his ceremonial white-and-gold robe were pulled back. The Sovereign’s Shackle remained etched into his skin—matte-black ink that looked like sleeping serpents coiled around
Chapter 94 The Saintess's New Path
The silver dragonling did not merely hatch; it erupted into existence as a living paradox of mercury and fire. As the jagged fragments of the starlight shell clattered against the stone floor of the University's amphitheater, the creature let out a high-pitched, harmonic chime that vibrated through the very marrow of every soul present. It was small, no larger than a hound, but its presence was a tectonic weight. Its scales were interlocking plates of liquid silver, reflecting the bruised violet sky, while its eyes were twin orbs of the same solar-white radiance that Li Feng had once carried in his chest.Li Feng stood frozen, his hands still hovering in the air where he had held the egg. The Sovereign’s Shackle on his forearms pulsed with a rhythmic, agonizing heat, the black ink serpents writhing against his skin as if they were trying to strike at the newborn drake. He felt the phantom roar of his Ancient Yang Core, a hollow ache where his divinity used
Chapter 93 The Silk Cloud Reunion
The descent into the valley of the Red Stone mines was a journey through a graveyard that had forgotten how to stay dead. As the carriage—a modest star-iron construct powered by the lingering resonance of the planetary ley-lines—creaked down the winding mountain pass, Li Feng leaned his forehead against the cool mercury-glass window. The jagged, rust-colored cliffs that had once been the boundaries of his entire universe now looked smaller, stripped of the terrifying majesty they held when he was a boy in chains. Back then, these peaks didn't just touch the sky; they choked it.Beside him, Ying Yue remained silent, her hand resting atop the silver dragon egg that sat on the velvet seat between them. The egg pulsed with a rhythmic, rhythmic warmth, a soft silver-white glow radiating through the diamond-textured scales. It was a heartbeat that grounded Li Feng every time the phantom sound of pickaxes began to echo in the silent chambers of his mind. Yi
Chapter 92 The Queen's Redemption
The scent of rotted jasmine—the unmistakable, cloying signature of the Demon Queen’s essence—no longer felt like a suffocating shroud. As it drifted through the sun-drenched air of the Dragon’s Throat, it felt more like a fading echo, a ghostly remnant of a storm that had finally spent its fury. Li Feng stood near the jagged edge of the star-iron gates, his fingers absently stroking the cool, diamond-scaled surface of the silver dragon egg he held against his chest. The Sovereign’s Shackle on his arms felt heavy, a constant, dull thrumming of suppressed power that reminded him he was now a man of the earth, bound by gravity and the limitations of breath.Beside him, Ying Yue was silent. Her silver-violet hair, once a vibrant banner of the Moon’s cold majesty, now fell in soft, human waves over her shoulders. She wasn't wearing her liquid-mercury gown anymore, but a simple robe of woven white silk, yet she had never looked more
Chapter 91 The Dragon’s Legacy
The morning mist over the jagged ridges of the Dragon’s Throat was no longer a veil of frozen geometry. It had become a soft, ethereal lace of silver and white, swirling around the obsidian spires that had once been Li Feng’s fortress and his prison. The sun, finally restored to its primordial glory, bathed the landscape in a golden warmth that felt heavy with the scent of pine needles and damp earth. Below, in the valleys that had known only the crushing silence of the mines for a thousand years, the rivers began to sing as they broke free from their icy shackles.Li Feng stood alone on the edge of the highest precipice, his hands resting on the cold tungsten hilt of the True Sun Blade. He was a man of flesh and bone now, no longer the incandescent beacon that had lit up the dark rifts of the Andromeda Sector. Beneath the sleeves of his simple linen tunic, the Sovereign’s Shackle—the intricate, matte-black tattoos of Abyssal ink—sa
Chapter 90 Shadows of the Past
The morning wind over the Dragon’s Throat no longer tasted of ozone and static; it carried the heady, unfamiliar scent of thawing earth and the distant salt of a sea that had finally stopped boiling. Li Feng stood at the edge of the jagged obsidian balcony, his fingers trailing over the cool star-iron railing. For the first time in what felt like a thousand lifetimes, he didn't melt the metal. He felt the grit of the stone, the bite of the mountain air against his neck, and the slow, rhythmic thrum of a heart that was no longer a planetary engine, but a muscle of flesh and blood.He looked down at his forearms. The Sovereign’s Shackle—the intricate, matte-black tattoos woven from Abyssal ink—wrapped around his limbs like protective serpents. They didn't glow. They didn't pulse. They simply sat there, a silent, heavy weight that reminded him of the price he had paid for this peace. Every time he tried to reach for the blinding solar-white
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