It was a little past eight in the evening when Xuzhi returned to the camp.
The farther he got from the jungle, the more the temperature dropped, until a chill seeped into the wind.
His jacket hung open, unbuttoned, but he didn’t seem to feel the cold. Keeping his head down, he hurried through the gate.
Two people stood at the entrance, giving him a cursory glance without much interest.
Once he rounded a narrow corner and confirmed that no one else was nearby, Xuzhi slowed his pace. He lowered his gaze to the gap at his collar.
Ming Shuang was tucked away in the inner pocket of his jacket, chin pressed against Xuzhi’s chest, his small body curled up obediently without so much as a twitch.
Noticing Xuzhi looking down at him, the little dragon hatchling’s eyes sparkled brightly. He stretched out one claw just a little.
He knew his master wouldn’t abandon him.
Xuzhi’s expression remained cool and detached. In a low voice, he warned, “Don’t make a sound, or I’ll toss you out.”
With that, he averted his eyes and pressed on, weaving around a few more corners until he reached a wooden hut in the camp.
Xuzhi unlocked the door and stepped inside, where a voice immediately greeted him.
“You’re back.”
Xuzhi gave a brief acknowledgment, locking the door behind him. “Uncle Lan.”
The room was small, illuminated by a single lamp. Half-reclining on the bed against the far wall was a man in his fifties.
His wide-open eyes had milky-white pupils—he was blind.
“You’re back so late again. It’s too dangerous out there; you need to be more careful… Have you had dinner?”
Lante shifted as he spoke, muttering under his breath.
A team of beast tamers had arrived in the valley over the past few days. Rumors swirled of another potential miasma fog outbreak, prompting most miners to head out early in the afternoon. Xuzhi was the exception.
At that moment, Ming Shuang couldn’t resist poking his head out from Xuzhi’s pocket to peer around.
Who was that talking?
Xuzhi crossed the room to the table in the opposite corner.
He pulled a short knife from his sleeve and set down the tool bag from his back, replying offhandedly, “I ate.”
Ming Shuang listened to their exchange, eyeing Lante curiously from a short distance away, along with the unfamiliar room.
Wanting to climb out of the pocket, he tugged at Xuzhi’s collar.
Lante’s eyes might have been useless, but his hearing and sense of smell were sharp. He let out a surprised “Eh?” “What did you bring back with you today?”
Since he’d been spotted, Xuzhi saw no point in hiding it.
“Today in the jungle…” He walked over to his own bed and lifted the little dragon hatchling from his chest. “…I found a magical beast cub.”
A low cabinet stood by the head of the bed. He placed Ming Shuang on top of it.
Hearing Xuzhi refer to him as a “magical beast cub,” the little dragon hatchling flicked the tip of his tail in displeasure, feeling rather awkward. “Awoo…”
He wasn’t any old magical beast cub—he was a dragon.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t shapeshift right now, and his master couldn’t understand the dragon language.
Ming Shuang continued glancing around as he raised a claw and patted the wall lamp mounted above the cabinet.
The old fixture gave a sharp crack. A small chunk of debris fell from somewhere, along with a puff of dust.
The Little Dragon hatchling quickly withdrew his claw and let out a tiny sneeze.
“Really?” Lante sounded astonished. “Did you awaken your innate talent?”
Xuzhi replied, “No.”
He returned to the wooden table and opened the tool bag.
It held several homemade simple weapons, trap components, and assorted other items.
“Oh…” Lante shifted to reassurance. “Well, if you can tame it and keep it around, that wouldn’t be so bad.”
He asked, “What kind of magical beast cub is it?”
Xuzhi glanced sideways at the hatchling, who sat obediently on the cabinet.
“White, horns on its head, blue eyes. It might be able to fly.”
He had deliberately left out certain details. Now, in the lamplight, he could finally make out the little dragon hatchling’s full appearance.
Being so young, its silver-white scales gleamed soft and delicate. Its horns were blunt, three blue markings adorned its forehead, and the tip of its tail bore a small, ice-crystal-like feature.
Lante pondered carefully. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Never heard of a magical beast like that—white body, blue eyes… Water-type?”
Xuzhi murmured a vague agreement, with no intention of pursuing the subject.
He shrugged off his jacket. After a moment’s thought, he poured water into a cup, rummaged in a drawer for some biscuits, and set them both on the floor beside the cabinet.
Ming Shuang watched him bustling about and hopped down from the cabinet out of curiosity to investigate.
The biscuits in the bowl had been crushed into dark, grimy crumbs.
The Little Dragon hatchling sniffed at them, then looked up at Xuzhi. He showed no interest in eating—or in the water.
Not hungry?
Xuzhi stood and fetched a clean towel. He gently wiped the little dragon hatchling’s claws before spreading two articles of clothing across the cabinet top to serve as a sleeping nest.
Only then did he head alone to the back door on the other side to wash up.
Ming Shuang leaped down from the cabinet to follow, but the door shut ahead of him.
He scratched at it insistently for a bit, until the sound of running water came from the other side. Giving up, he turned to survey his surroundings.
Evening had fallen. Lante appeared to be asleep on the bed, and all was quiet outside.
The Little Dragon hatchling set off padding through the room, making a full circuit and sniffing about as if patrolling his territory.
He nosed the corner of the table, patted the wall, and even licked the hem of Xuzhi’s jacket, which was draped over the back of a chair.
Ming Shuang wandered over to Lante’s bedside and peered up at him.
A human. A live one.
Aside from Xuzhi, Ming Shuang had never been this close to another human before. From their conversation earlier, Lante seemed to be some kind of friend.
But this place was so cramped and shabby… Nothing like where his master used to live.
The Little Dragon hatchling looked this way and that before quietly returning to the top of the low cabinet. He circled once atop Xuzhi’s clothes, sat down to lick his paws, and sniffed the fabric again.
No doubt about it—this was his master’s scent. He could never mistake it.
Ming Shuang closed his eyes, and a panel of information materialized before him.
The card pool continued to churn, but he couldn’t return to it just yet.
As always, he could “see” his basic status.
Stamina and dragon breath were nearly exhausted, though he still had a fair amount of magic power left…
But having reverted to his juvenile form, he couldn’t shapeshift. His magic use was severely limited; he couldn’t tap into his true power.
Ming Shuang felt a pang of frustration. He had no idea what was wrong with him.
Just then, the back door creaked open.
Xuzhi had changed into fresh clothes, damp strands of hair clinging to his ears. He carried the cool mist of water about him.
He reentered the room, sat down at the table, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes to rest quietly.
Ming Shuang promptly fluttered over unsteadily and perched on the edge of the wooden table.
The surface was filthy, littered with tools and spare parts.
Ming Shuang hesitated for a long while, eyeing the mess with some distaste and uncertainty. Cautiously, he raised a claw, nudging items aside or stepping around them with care.
Reaching the center of the table, the little dragon hatchling tucked in his tail and sat up straight, gazing at the young man before him.
Xuzhi had opened his eyes at some point. He met the little dragon hatchling’s stare.
The Little Dragon hatchling tilted his head and let out a soft sound. “Mm…”
From the moment the magic formation had spat him out until now, Ming Shuang had come to accept one harsh truth.
His master truly didn’t recognize him.
He had no clue what had happened or why things were this way.
Perhaps he’d slumbered too long and missed out on everything.
Ming Shuang could sense it too—Xuzhi had shrunk and weakened just like him, bearing no trace of magic elements.
He had no idea where they were, either… That other human in the room had even said it was dangerous outside.
Ming Shuang figured it didn’t matter that the other card beasts were absent.
Even in his juvenile form, as a dragon clansman of noble lineage, he could surely protect his master.
The Little Dragon hatchling straightened his back a touch, his blue-gold heterochromia eyes gleaming. But then he let out another small sneeze.
…Perhaps flying about in the jungle had taken its toll. This newborn-like juvenile body was still a bit delicate.
In any case, he’d stick by his master’s side for now and figure out just what was going on.
Ming Shuang shook his head. Seeing Xuzhi still watching him, he couldn’t help but seek closeness.
With a practiced pounce through the air, the little dragon hatchling collided into Xuzhi’s chest. His claws hooked into the fabric as he nuzzled in, humming and chirping as if carrying on a conversation.
Xuzhi cradled the little dragon hatchling, his fingers brushing the tender, cool claws draped across his chest. The corner of his mouth twitched upward faintly before he smoothed it away.
He raised his other hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Why on earth had he… gone and brought the thing back?
He’d regretted it the moment he started heading back to camp.
Xuzhi could tell this magical beast cub was young, but clever.
And the cleverer the beast, the higher its tier and potential strength.
The odds of one like this turning up alone on the outskirts of the Thorny Jungle were vanishingly small—virtually impossible.
Reflecting on how he’d found the cub, Xuzhi recalled a detail he’d overlooked before.
Right before the cub appeared, ice mist had rolled through the jungle. He’d heard a faint sound then—likely a summoning magic formation activating.
If the beast had already formed a beast contract with a beast tamer, they could remain apart until summoned.
Which meant the cub had an owner. For whatever reason, the magic formation had dumped it in the wrong spot.
No ordinary person could lay claim to a beast like that. Even if Xuzhi tried to track down its master, it could still draw trouble his way.
And if he was wrong? If the cub had no master?
Then he, unable to form a contract himself, had no means to raise a magical beast.
A century ago, miasma fog had erupted across the lands, causing magic elements to fade rapidly. The races had turned to contracting magical beasts, borrowing their innate magic for cultivation—mages evolving into beast tamers.
The greater a beast tamer’s innate talent, the stronger the beasts they could contract, granting them status and riches with ease.
But raising a high-tier magical beast was an exorbitant expense.
Daily care, food, advanced magic stones for advancing his cultivation—none of these could be lacking for such a creature. And special medicine to ward off the corrosion of the miasma fog was essential too.
But Xuzhi was nothing more than an ordinary human with no innate talent or status whatsoever. He could barely sustain his own survival.
No matter how he looked at it, keeping a magical beast cub by his side offered him no benefits, only drawbacks.
Xuzhi stroked the little dragon hatchling’s head, his gaze lowering coldly as he thought: Better to head back into the jungle tomorrow and return the magical beast cub to where it belonged.
Ming Shuang was completely unaware of Xuzhi’s deliberations.
The Little Dragon hatchling was still lost in the joy of their reunion, nuzzling against him with abandon and sniffing contentedly at his familiar scent.
Though some inexplicable upheaval had occurred and he still couldn’t make sense of the situation—everything around him felt utterly foreign—even the house they were in had changed. It was cramped and stuffy, and the smell made Ming Shuang dislike it.
Back in the card pool, the small castle had a front hallway alone that was far wider than this place, complete with a fluffy carpet where he could roll around for circles on end.
But Ming Shuang had grown up without any notion of poverty.
Right now, he just felt incredibly lucky. He’d woken up and gotten to see his master again. Even if his master didn’t remember him, he’d still brought him along.
The only inconvenience was that Ming Shuang couldn’t shapeshift yet, and Xuzhi couldn’t understand the dragon language.
So how were they supposed to communicate?
Ming Shuang desperately wanted to talk to Xuzhi, to ask what he remembered, if he knew where the other card beasts had gone.
There had been five cards in total, including himself—all of them belonging to Xuzhi. They should always be by his side, guarding him.
The Little Dragon hatchling racked his brains, staring at his slowly recovering stamina and dragon breath. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
Xuzhi was his master. Of course there was a special connection between them.
Ming Shuang remembered Xuzhi teaching him before: by expending a bit of magic power, they could hold a mental conversation.
