Even facing a Dragon King's Nibelungen, Wang Jianjun and his team had no choice but to press forward. Their mission was crystal clear: determine the exact nature of the dragon that appeared in Kunlun and provide accurate intelligence for whatever dragon-slaying operation would follow. Personal safety came second to mission completion.
They'd been walking for roughly thirty minutes when Aki Sakakotsu suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, her head snapping up.
"That's it!" Her voice carried urgency through the gas mask's filter. "The scent I smelled before—flowers mixed with apple cider. It's here again!"
Wang Jianjun's tactical instincts kicked in instantly. "Gas masks on! Now!"
The order cracked through the radio like a gunshot. Every team member moved with drilled precision, yanking their protective masks into place and securing the seals. If that mysterious scent could knock out a trained Cassel College graduate, getting caught without protection here could be fatal for all six of them.
Fortune favored them twice over—Aki's sensitive nose had caught the scent early, and Wang Jianjun's immediate response meant everyone got their masks secured before the fragrance could take effect. A few team members reported brief dizziness during the transition, but the sealed masks quickly cleared their heads.
"Qian Feng," Wang Jianjun spoke into his radio, "pull your group back. Maintain three to four hundred meters separation from us. My team will advance for reconnaissance."
"Understood, Commander." Qian Feng's response was immediate and professional.
The six-person unit split smoothly into their designated teams. Wang Jianjun, Chen Moqing, and Ye Sheng formed the spearhead while Qian Feng's group—including Aki and Xia Jidong—fell back to their support position. The distance would give them reaction time if Wang Jianjun's team encountered hostiles, while keeping them close enough to provide covering fire if needed.
Both teams ramped up their alertness to maximum. Fingers hovered near triggers. Eyes swept constantly for threats. Every sense strained for danger.
They couldn't smell the flower scent through their masks, but basic logic dictated its source. Scents traveled on air currents, so Wang Jianjun led them directly into the wind, following the invisible trail to whatever was producing that strange, sleep-inducing fragrance.
Another thirty minutes of careful advance brought an abrupt change. Wang Jianjun felt it first—a sudden tightness in his chest, like an invisible hand squeezing his heart. The sensation was familiar yet alien, intimate yet terrifying. His dragon blood recognized something ahead, called to it like iron to a lodestone.
The source of his bloodline. The progenitor. The king.
"Commander Wang?" Chen Moqing's voice carried concern. He'd felt it too, though not as intensely.
Wang Jianjun forced his breathing to steady, fighting against every instinct that screamed at him to kneel, to submit, to acknowledge the sovereign ahead. "Keep moving," he managed through gritted teeth.
"Yes sir!" Chen Moqing's response held admiration. Their commander's will was iron.
Step by agonizing step, they pushed forward against the growing pressure. It felt like wading through deep water while wearing full armor—every movement required conscious effort, every breath was a small victory. The dragon blood in their veins sang and wailed simultaneously, torn between worship and terror.
Finally, the grassland ended. They stood at the edge of a cliff, staring down into a valley that shouldn't exist within an already impossible space.
And there, at the bottom, lay a god.
The dragon was colossal beyond comprehension. Its scales shimmered with the pale blue of a dawn sky, each one larger than a man's shield. The creature lay in repose, its massive form relaxed in sleep, radiating an aura of absolute authority that pressed down on the three observers like a physical weight.
In front of the sleeping dragon, a pool gleamed with amber liquid—apple cider, judging by the scent Aki had described. The wine pool was easily fifty meters across, its surface reflecting the impossible sunlight that bathed this pocket dimension.
Wang Jianjun had read every text, studied every legend, examined every fragment of evidence about dragons that Cassel College possessed. None of it had prepared him for this moment.
To face one's ancestor. To stand before the source of your own inhuman power. To look upon divinity made flesh.
His body wanted to kneel. Every cell screamed at him to prostrate himself, to press his forehead to the earth and beg for mercy from this supreme being. Fear wrapped around his spine like a serpent. Worship welled up from depths he didn't know he possessed. The urge to submit, to serve, to acknowledge this creature as his absolute master—it was overwhelming.
Some would say the body's primal reactions cannot be stopped. Touch fire and you will flinch. Face your mortality and you will panic. But sometimes—rarely—the human spirit proves stronger than mere flesh.
Wang Jianjun's hand moved slowly, fighting against the pressure that threatened to drive him to his knees. He formed a simple gesture through sheer force of will: retreat.
Chen Moqing and Ye Sheng saw the signal and immediately began backing away from the cliff edge. They noticed their commander's legs trembling violently with each step, saw sweat pouring down his face despite the comfortable temperature. Without a word, they moved to either side and gripped his arms, supporting him as they withdrew.
Qian Feng's team, monitoring from their distant position, saw the vanguard group's retreat and surged forward to assist. Within moments, all six team members were moving as one unit, putting distance between themselves and the sleeping Dragon King.
They didn't stop until they'd crossed back beyond the invisible boundary of the creature's aura—that zone where its mere presence could crush a person's will.
Wang Jianjun collapsed to his knees the moment they cleared the pressure, gasping for air like a drowning man breaking the surface. Sweat soaked through his tactical gear. His hands shook uncontrollably. If his will had faltered for even a second back there, he would have fallen prostrate before that ancient monster and likely never risen again.
"Commander Wang!" Aki rushed to his side, her training warring with genuine concern. "What happened?"
Wang Jianjun took several more deep breaths before he could speak. When he did, his voice was steady despite the exhaustion. "This Nibelungen belongs to the King of Sky and Wind. And it's not some diminished fragment or corrupted remnant." He looked up at Aki, his expression grave. "It's the complete Dragon King. Whole and perfect."
"What?" The word escaped Qian Feng as barely more than a whisper.
Xia Jidong's face had gone pale. "You're certain?"
"The King of Sky and Wind," Chen Moqing confirmed, his own voice still shaken. "One of the four supreme Dragon Kings. Second in power only to the Black King and White King themselves."
Aki's tactical mind processed the implications rapidly. Throughout recorded history, suspected Dragon Kings had appeared in human form—diminished, crippled versions of their true selves that could barely access their full authority. In human shape, a Dragon King was still formidable but vulnerable. After all, hadn't Gustave killed Rodan, who had dared to challenge even the great Dragon Kings?
But this... this was different.
"A complete Dragon King," Aki breathed. "In full draconic form."
"Yes." Wang Jianjun had finally recovered enough to stand on his own, though his legs still felt weak. "Commander Wang, Chen Moqing, and I saw it with our own eyes. You all felt its presence, didn't you? That overwhelming pressure?"
Ye Sheng nodded solemnly. "The King of Sky and Wind is sleeping at the bottom of the cliff ahead. The apple cider scent Aki detected earlier comes from a massive wine pool directly in front of the dragon."
"So we're dealing with a dragon that enjoys getting drunk?" Qian Feng's attempt at humor was strained, but it broke the tension slightly.
Despite everything, a few nervous chuckles rippled through the group. The absurdity of imagining an ancient god-beast as a drunk was oddly humanizing.
Wang Jianjun seized the moment of levity to refocus his team. "Listen carefully. The King of Sky and Wind is currently asleep. That gives us a window of opportunity—possibly our only one. We need to find the Nibelungen's exit and escape while that creature is still unconscious. Once we're out, we report everything to headquarters."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "By confirming a dragon's presence in Kunlun and identifying it specifically as the King of Sky and Wind, we've completed ninety percent of our mission. Getting this intelligence back to headquarters will make it one hundred percent successful. That's our new objective. Everyone clear?"
"Yes sir!" The response was immediate and unified. Every team member snapped to attention and delivered crisp salutes.
"At ease." Wang Jianjun waved off the formality with tired affection. "We're past that kind of thing now. You're all comrades and friends, not just subordinates."
He looked at each person in turn, seeing not just skilled operatives but people he'd come to trust with his life. "I need ideas. How do we find an exit from this place? None of us have experience escaping from a Nibelungen, so I'm open to any and all suggestions. Speak freely."
Silence fell as each team member turned inward, wrestling with a problem that had no obvious solution. Nibelungen were notoriously difficult to escape—their exits shifted unpredictably, and the spaces themselves could be impossibly vast or deceptively small.
After nearly a minute of contemplation, Ye Sheng tentatively raised his hand. "Commander Wang, I might have something."
"You don't need permission to speak, Ye Sheng. Just tell us what you're thinking."
"Right." Ye Sheng gathered his thoughts. "Everyone remember 'The Peach Blossom Spring'?"
Chen Moqing's brow furrowed. "The poem by Tao Yuanming, yes. But the Wuling fisherman managed to return home the same way he entered. That only worked because he got lucky—he left before the Nibelungen's exit shifted to a new location. Our exit changed the moment Commander Wang brought the team inside. We can't use the same path."
"I know," Ye Sheng said patiently. "But think about the timing. The exit shifted, yes, but not much time has passed—maybe three or four hours at most. The new exit shouldn't have moved too far from the original entry point. If we return to where we first entered this place, the current exit might be nearby. It's not guaranteed, but it's our best lead."
Wang Jianjun considered the logic carefully. It was based more on intuition than hard evidence, but sometimes that was all you had in the field. "I agree with Ye Sheng's reasoning. The spatial displacement probably isn't random—there's likely some kind of pattern or limitation to how far the exit can shift in a given time period."
He looked around at the others. "All in favor?"
One by one, hands rose. The decision was unanimous.
"Then that's our plan," Wang Jianjun declared. "We backtrack to our original entry point and search the surrounding area for the current exit. Stay in formation, maintain radio discipline, and keep those gas masks secured. If the King of Sky and Wind wakes up before we escape..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence. They all understood. If that ancient monster opened its eyes and found intruders in its domain, none of them would leave alive.
The six-person team turned as one and began the careful journey back toward where their nightmare had begun, carrying with them intelligence that would shake the very foundations of the dragon-slaying world.
Behind them, in its valley paradise, the King of Sky and Wind slept on, dreaming whatever dreams came to gods.