The mist above the stream bloomed like flowers, bursting into countless petals—crowded, surging, scattering, hissing. An enormous Golden Dragon Head, larger than a palace, slowly emerged from the clouds and mist, coming to the surface of the stream.

The five-foot gap between the stream and the mist was very narrow for it—Golden Great Dragon's body was hidden within the fog, with even part of its dragon head shrouded, making it appear all the more majestic, mysterious, and terrifying.

Golden Great Dragon gazed quietly at the surface of the stream.

The wooden basin still bobbed gently in the water.

Inside the tiny wooden basin was an abandoned newborn baby, eyes closed, face tinged with blue.

……

……

The mist gradually dispersed, and everything returned to tranquility.

However, the peace was only temporary... Deep within the fog, even near the solitary peak, at almost the same moment, countless shrill, panicked howls and cries rang out!

What was thought to be a silent, lifeless world was actually teeming with hidden birds and beasts. The mist was filled with the sound of flapping wings, the crash of a unicorn breaking ancient trees in its panic, and even a piercingly clear phoenix cry!

An invisible line of divine will, like a thread of fire, spread from the stream bank toward the sky. The damp grass instantly became bone dry, and even the water plants in the stream curled at the edges!

In the eyes of Golden Great Dragon, there was still no emotion—noble, indifferent, reigning over all.

Below the clouds and mist, all the beasts of the world fled in terror, but it did not care. Even the fledgling phoenix did not concern it. It only stared at the little stream before it, at the wooden basin on the water. Tens of thousands of streams flowed down from the solitary peak, but it watched only this one; after thirty thousand years, it had returned to this world for the sake of the baby in the basin—how could it look away?

A very fine thread of light slowly descended. Its surface was golden, but inside it was a sacred white, as if it glowed on its own. The tip was extremely thin, the rear gradually thickening until it was as thick as a child's arm, the surface perfectly smooth, and the luster from within made it even more beautiful.

The material of this thread seemed as heavy as gold or jade, but in reality it was very light, swaying and dancing in the breeze above the stream, as if wanting to touch the wooden basin, yet instantly recoiling.

It was the whisker of Golden Great Dragon.

At this moment, the divine fire in Golden Great Dragon's eyes was no longer so eternal and steady. Indifference had been replaced by contemplation, as if it were hesitating. The tips of two dragon whiskers, like gentle fingers, lightly touched the rim of the wooden basin on the stream, as if caressing, but in truth not quite making contact.

This Golden Great Dragon had lived through an unimaginably long age, possessing wisdom beyond comprehension, yet at this moment, the wooden basin seemed to be a riddle it could not solve—emotions in its eyes grew ever more complex: longing, wariness, hesitation, and finally, struggle. Perhaps unintentionally, perhaps deliberately, the wind above the stream shifted slightly, and the dragon whisker that should have brushed past the rim of the basin trembled, finally making true contact for the first time, even brushing beneath the baby's ear!

Such a slight touch brought about a dramatic change—the two sparks of divine fire deep in Golden Great Dragon's eyes exploded with a boom, scattering into thousands of stars. In that sea of stars, a naked, cold, and greedy desire was revealed!

That desire was admiration, was being moved.

It was admiration for life, being moved by life.

It was the most primal longing for life.

Golden Great Dragon looked at the wooden basin on the stream and opened its mouth. Dragon breath poured out like shattered jade.

The baby in the basin still had its eyes closed, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

The stream was shrouded in shadow.

Dragon breath fell around the wooden basin.

In the next moment, the basin and the baby within would become the food of Golden Great Dragon.

Just then—

A hand landed on the rim of the basin, pulling it toward the bank!

It was a hand full of scars, somewhat thin and small.

Amid the splashing water, the stream broke apart as the hand dragged the basin, desperately running toward the bank.

The owner of the hand was a little Daoist acolyte, three or four years old.

Little Ethan pulled the basin to the bank, hiding it between a riverside rock and his own body. Then he turned, drew the sword at his waist, and looked toward the terrifying, enormous Golden Dragon Chief above the stream.

This was a very strange Little Ethan.

He was blind in one eye, missing an ear, and when he had been running desperately in the stream, it was clear he limped. Judging by the empty sleeve, he had only one hand.

No wonder he could only hide the basin behind him before drawing his sword.

Facing the giant dragon head above the stream, Little Ethan's face was pale, his teeth chattering—not from the icy water, but from fear in his heart.

This was his first time seeing a real dragon. He didn't even know what a dragon was; he only knew fear. Yet he did not run, but held the flimsy wooden sword, shielding the basin firmly behind him.

Golden Great Dragon looked at Little Ethan with indifferent expression. Only a super being who had also entered the sacred domain could see the anger and coldness deep in its eyes.

Little Ethan shouted something, his face pale, terrified, but he did not let go of the basin in his hand.

Golden Great Dragon grew angry, its dragon breath enveloping both banks of the stream. Death was imminent.