For a moment, everything was still.
Xiao Feng could barely hear his own breath. The darkness wrapped around them like a living thing, heavy and silent. Then, faintly—his palm began to glow. A soft red light shimmered from the mark, pulsing gently, like it had a heartbeat of its own.
"Chen Hao?" he called out.
"I'm here," Chen Hao replied quickly, his voice tense. "What just happened? That voice…"
Xiao Feng didn't answer right away. His mind was somewhere else, still clinging to the feeling left behind by the voice. "You've awakened me… and I remember you."
Suddenly, the mark on his palm flared brighter—and behind them, the pedestal cracked open. The book split apart again, and from within, a small orb of glowing purple light floated upward, spinning slowly. Without thinking, Xiao Feng stepped toward it.
The orb hovered for just a second before darting forward—and sank straight into his chest.
He gasped.
And then, it appeared.
The air shimmered, and violet mist spun around him before forming a shape—a small dragon. No bigger than a house cat, with shining silver scales and bright eyes that seemed far too wise for something so tiny. It flapped its wings, hovering softly before landing gently on Xiao Feng's shoulder.
Chen Hao's jaw dropped. "Is that… is that the dragon? From your vision?"
"I think it is," Xiao Feng said, staring at it in awe.
The dragon blinked up at him with recognition—like it knew him. Not from today, but from before. From somewhere deep in the past.
"I'll call you… Yinglong."
The little dragon purred—a soft, low sound that vibrated through the air—and sit on his shoulder.
Chen Hao let out a shaky breath. "So… now you have a dragon. A real one."
"He's small now," Xiao Feng said, eyes still on the dragon. "But he's not weak. He's just… waiting. Like he's asleep, but aware."
The narrow passage that had opened earlier still stood waiting for them, lit now with the same faint purple glow as Xiao Feng's mark. The chamber door rumbled shut behind them with a low thud.
There was no turning back.
Xiao Feng glanced at Chen Hao, then down the tunnel. "Let's go. Whatever's down there… it's part of this."
The two of them stepped into the passage. And as they walked, Xiao Feng could feel the tiny dragon breathing gently against his skin. Alive. Bonded.
But deep below—something else stirred.
In a place untouched for centuries, something ancient opened its eyes. It had been waiting, and now… it was waking up.
A voice, cold and cracked like old stone, echoed in the dark:
"The key has been found. And the cycle begins again."
The corridor was cold. Damp. Xiao Feng and Chen Hao descended the stone steps quietly, their torches flickering with each breath of stale air.
Perched on Xiao Feng's shoulder, Ying Long—small, dragon-like, almost cute—watched everything with sharp, intelligent eyes.
"This place," Chen Hao whispered. "It feels like something's watching us."
"We're not alone," Xiao Feng replied softly.
The final step led them into a vast underground chamber. Symbols lined the cracked stone floor, telling stories of dragons, wars, and a sacrifice. But in the center stood a clear pillar—glass-like, pulsing with a faint, dark heartbeat.
Chen Hao stepped back. "What… is that?"
Xiao Feng didn't respond. But Ying Long straightened, his tiny wings flaring ever so slightly.
Then, the shadows moved.
From behind the pillar, a figure emerged. It gazed at them with chilling stillness.
"The Key has arrived," it said in a voice like grinding stone. "But the hour is not yet complete."
It began to advance.
Chen Hao instinctively reached for his sword, but before he could draw it, the entire chamber shook.
Ying Long's eyes flared bright white. He leapt from Xiao Feng's shoulder, hovering midair, and for a moment, he wasn't small anymore. A larger, glowing form flickered behind him—brief, but unmistakable.
A full dragon.
The spirit within him had awakened.
The shadow staggered. "Impossible…!"
Ying Long let out a piercing screech. A glowing ring of energy burst outward, striking the figure. The shadow screamed—its form unraveling in threads of dark mist until it dissolved into nothing.
Silence.
Ying Long fluttered gently back to Xiao Feng's shoulder, smaller once more, but his breathing heavy. His power had stirred, and the air still hummed with its presence.
Chen Hao stared, wide-eyed. "He's not just a pet… is he?"
Xiao Feng smiled faintly, running a hand over Ying Long's back. "No. He's my companion. And maybe… my guardian."
The pillar still pulsed faintly, its heartbeat weaker than before.
Xiao Feng stepped toward it, and Ying Long nodded—almost as if giving permission.
"This is just the beginning, Chen Hao," Xiao Feng murmured. "Whatever we unlocked… it's awake now."
From the pillar, a low hum rose—like something stirring deeper beneath. Something ancient. Something waiting.
The descent had only begun.