“Sheath?” In the forge, Beiyuan, who was in the middle of a discussion, raised his eyebrows at Old Hawke’s words.
Old Hawke stroked the Meteorite Fragment with obvious reluctance. “That’s right. A famous Sword is rare, and a matching Sheath is just as hard to come by. Now, your Sword has been settled, but an ordinary Sword Sheath probably won’t be able to tame it. You can’t just have a Sword without a Sheath, can you?”
“That’s true…” Beiyuan mused for a moment, then looked at Old Hawke again. “What do you need me to do?”
Old Hawke pondered for a while before answering, “Rare, sturdy, and traceable— among all the materials currently known, the most suitable one I can think of is Froststone. Moreover, this Meteorite Fragment is fierce by nature, while Froststone is also called the ‘Heart of the Snow God’— it can calm any fiery temper, making it the perfect counterbalance.”
Beiyuan naturally asked, “But if that’s the case, won’t combining ice and fire make the conflict even more intense?”
“That’s when you’ll have to rely on my craftsmanship.” Old Hawke smiled proudly, the lines on his aged face radiating a confidence forged by years of experience.
He hummed softly, “Others might not be able to do it, but I’m the most seasoned forgemaster of the Tianjing Clan.”
Off to the side, Sinsid leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. He suddenly laughed and interjected, “Self-proclaimed, right?”
Old Hawke turned to him expressionlessly. “…Looks like you don’t want your weapon finished, do you?”
Sinsid quickly mimed zipping his lips, raising both hands in surrender.
Old Hawke then continued to Beiyuan, “As long as you can find Froststone and pair it with this Meteorite Fragment, I guarantee I can make the Sword and Sheath perfectly for you— I have a feeling it’ll be an unprecedented masterpiece! I might even use this chance to break through to a new realm no forgemaster has ever reached!”
He didn’t hide his desire, just as no true seeker would deny the longing for enlightenment.
He could risk his life for it, yet now he forced himself to calm down, shifting the topic, “But you’re the one providing the materials. In other words, this Sword is born for you. If the finished product isn’t suitable for you, that’s my failure.”
Beiyuan immediately understood what the old man meant. “You’re worried I won’t be able to handle it.”
Old Hawke glanced at him in surprise, stroking his long beard. “Not bad. Are all the kids these days this perceptive?” As he spoke, he carefully watched Beiyuan’s expression, as if giving him time to consider or back out.
But to his surprise, Beiyuan didn’t hesitate at all. His shining golden eyes calmly met Old Hawke’s gaze. “Where do I find Froststone?”
Before Old Hawke could sigh in complicated contemplation, Sinsid suddenly spoke up, “If you want Froststone, look for me.” Sinsid curled his lips, holding an unlit cigarette in his hand as he pointed to himself. “Froststone is in Extreme Frost Valley, and Extreme Frost Valley is right next to my home. I know that place better than anyone.”
Beiyuan responded quickly.
Sinsid’s territory was the Western Corridor Plains. In his previous life, he remembered that the “neighbor” of the Western Corridor Plains was still a desolate, undeveloped swamp.
Had it now become the Extreme Frost Valley Sinsid spoke of?
Old Hawke looked as if he’d swallowed something wrong, eyeing the cowboy with suspicion. “Why are you suddenly being so helpful?”
Sinsid’s lips twitched.
Who was he worrying about here? The old man had been tricked plenty of times before, but this time it wasn’t just about losing some money— both the person and the Sword were troublesome.
If something went wrong, it wouldn’t be as simple as a few lost coins.
“I’m not helping for free.” Sinsid clamped the cigarette between his teeth, unlit. “Froststone isn’t any easier to find than your Meteorite Fragment. If we actually manage to find some, any leftover scraps from making the Sheath— no matter how much— are mine as payment. Of course, if we don’t find any, we both just wasted a trip… No one blames the other.”
Beiyuan stared at him for a second, already guessing most of Sinsid’s concerns. He took a moment to think, then replied unhurriedly, “Deal.”
Before heading to the Western Corridor Plains, Beiyuan said he wanted to go “home” first.
Sinsid and Old Hawke had no reason to stop him, so the three agreed on a meeting time: three hours later at the Teleportation Array by the Yunshang Nation Trade Station.
Beiyuan took the opportunity to return to Yan Flame Mountain.
Along the way, he noticed many more Players near Yan Flame Mountain than before, wandering around as if searching for something.
He was sure that if it weren’t for the Yan King’s fearsome reputation, these Players would have barged straight in.
So, Beiyuan knew his guess was right— these people were indeed looking for him.
The fallout from the battle at Yunshang Nation was far greater than he’d imagined. In his past life, people had never been this obsessed with virtual NPCs.
Some Players were already close to exhaustion— in Wanzu, running out of stamina really could mean collapsing and dying, and the feeling of dropping dead from fatigue was as awful as it sounded.
But even so, none of them seemed inclined to stop and rest.
…This level of obsession was downright terrifying, wasn’t it? Could it be that there were Tianjing Clan diehard Players, the kind deeply attached to the Yunshang Nation?
Real-life Six-Winged Clan, in-game Tianjing Clan, double-redemption critical-hit Player: Thank you, I could search for “Our Light” for ten thousand years, I’d give my life for him!
When he entered Yan Flame Mountain, Beiyuan nearly ran into Bai Buwen.
In the outer forest of Yan Flame Mountain, Bai Buwen was accompanied not only by the Tianjing Clan’s Tingfeng, but also by a large group of others— all of them, like Bai Buwen, bore special bloodlines.
As Beiyuan sped past, several people dropped to their knees, then scrambled up, faces flushed, arguing heatedly.
“Bai— Brother Bai! I felt it, he…he’s very close, we’re heading in the right direction!”
“But that can’t be, I feel the blood’s pull going south. Shouldn’t it be the other way?”
“Do you have enough Crystal Stones? Remember, pick Miner first at the Job Agency!”
“Like I need you to tell me!…”
The rest of their words faded as Beiyuan left them far behind.
After several encounters, Beiyuan had mostly figured it out: these people’s bloodlines likely originated from dragons— starting from the First Generation, when a dragon married into another race, giving birth to the Half-Blood Dragon Clan, who then intermarried with non-dragon races.
Generation after generation, the dragon blood was diluted, eventually becoming something nearly indistinguishable from that of a Human. But unlike ordinary Humans, their veins always carried a dream of that ancient legend.
And so, as the last true dragon in the world, Beiyuan could resonate with them.
This meant that within Wanzu, Beiyuan’s role— combined with his original setting as “Glory Knight, Dragon-Chasing Knight Leader”— was to single-handedly support an entire race. However…
“Roar—”
While dodging the crowds and pondering these things, Beiyuan had unknowingly ventured deep into the heart of Yan Flame Mountain.
The Yan King spotted him from afar and, roaring with excitement, charged over.
His train of thought was cut off.
Beiyuan swept his gaze over the rocks, where embers still flickered, imagining the Yan Beast’s restless pacing earlier.
He couldn’t help but feel glad he’d come back— otherwise, Yan Flame Mountain might have become a bald, charred hill by now.
“Shh.” Remembering the Players and some Tianjing Clan NPCs still trailing him, he quickly made a hush gesture.
The Yan Beast immediately quieted down, though the heat shimmering off its body betrayed its inner agitation. Beiyuan could almost see the aggrieved protest in its eyes.
“All right, all right. Even if something unexpected happened during hide-and-seek, you still found me, didn’t you?” He smiled softly in reassurance. “But now, I’ll probably have to leave again for a while, you…”
The Yan Beast whimpered twice, anxiously chasing its own tail in place.
Beiyuan stopped drawing out his words and changed the topic, “Can you mimic forms?”
Yan King: “Woo!”
Three hours later, in front of the Yunshang Nation Trade Station Teleportation Array.
Now that the Yunshang Nation had landed on the earth, the Trade Station had recently been struck by a falling rock.
Most active Players had taken up “Rebuild Yunshang Nation” and similar tasks, so hardly anyone lingered here— those passing by moved quickly.
Sinsid, who had been waiting here for over half an hour, was idly flexing his left hand, freshly repaired by Old Hawke, when he looked up and saw Beiyuan arrive right on time.
Sinsid waved casually in greeting, then couldn’t help but stare at the conspicuous red fluff on Beiyuan’s shoulder. His hand shook as he held his cigarette, and he hesitated, “Is that…a pig with fur?”
Beiyuan quickly restrained the Yan King cub, who was about to swipe a paw at the Man’s face, and answered firmly, “It’s a cat.”
Sinsid: ……
Sinsid said, “Quite the unique little guy.”
You don’t say. Beiyuan couldn’t help but cover his face, recalling the whole business of having the Yan King mimic forms.
Maybe because of Beiyuan’s influence, the Yan King seemed to think that aside from dragon-like shapes, the most noble form was Beiyuan’s own “Human” shape. So, at first, it had tried to become Human.
But Beiyuan soon realized, during the Yan Beast’s attempts, that it seemed to have “face blindness”— in short, it couldn’t distinguish Human facial features.
The faces it produced at first were so bizarre, it was like stepping into a surreal horror film.
In the end, Beiyuan drew a stray cat he’d once taken care of in his previous life on the ground and had the Yan Beast copy it.
The result was still far from perfect, but at least it gave him the basic courage to lie with a straight face.
Sinsid, well-traveled and broad-minded, quickly accepted the Yan Beast’s odd appearance.
While activating the Teleportation Array and confirming the coordinates, he smiled, “Let’s go, young master.”
Beiyuan raised an eyebrow. “Young master?”
Sinsid looked back at him, half serious, half teasing. “Right now, you’re my employer, so of course you’re in charge. Or…would you like to tell me your name?”
Beiyuan paused, as if something came to mind.
By now, the two had stepped into the Teleportation Array. When the light faded, a vast, endless grassland stretched before them.
Blue sky and white clouds, lush green grass, and in the distant horizon, a herd of horses galloped freely in the wind, their faint neighs the most stirring melody of this land.
Even the Yan King, who had been glaring warily at Sinsid and tensed up the whole time, couldn’t help but relax a little here, lazily sneezing.
Sinsid took a deep breath of the wind, finally at home on the land he knew best, letting down his guard.
But as he was halfway through relaxing his shoulders, the golden-haired, golden-eyed boy beside him spoke softly, “Beiyuan. My name is Beiyuan.”
“…” Sinsid’s half-raised smile froze, his expression blank for a second.
Then, he suddenly looked down at Beiyuan, studying him as if for the first time—intensely and with anxious scrutiny.
Sinsid opened his mouth, voice hoarse, “Which ‘Bei,’ which ‘Yuan’?”
Beiyuan met his gaze. “The ‘Bei’ of north, the ‘Yuan’ of plateau.”
Sinsid’s gaze circled and finally landed on the boy’s golden eyes. He’d always been wary of those eyes, but now he held the look for more than a second.
A dangerous distance.
But in the end, he found no trace of the person he was searching for.
…Of course, that person wasn’t a child.
He really was losing his mind.
The Man couldn’t help lighting the cigarette he’d been holding, taking a drag as if trying to exhale the emotions that had built up in his chest in those brief moments.
His excitement lasted only an instant before turning into deeper dejection and gloom, which only made his masculine charm more mature.
After a few breaths, the Man composed himself again and said with forced casualness, “Using your full name feels too distant— I’ll keep calling you young master.” It wasn’t a tone of negotiation, but a clear refusal to use that name. He paused again, forcing a grin. “You can call me uncle.”
Beiyuan: “…”
Beiyuan looked at the other’s face, which couldn’t be more than in his twenties. “…Suit yourself.”
You made your choice— don’t regret it in the future.