HPDBC 216. Cave Dragon
216. Cave Dragon
Jin Shu dove behind a stalagmite as the massive tail tore through the cavern behind him. Stone exploded, but the thick formation held—barely—buying him a precious moment to breathe and think.He peeked out from behind the shattered rock, eyes flicking between the giant lizard’s legs.
There—his railgun.
Completely unreachable.
He’d had a bad feeling the moment he entered the cavern. Knowing something was waiting for him, he’d drawn the railgun early, planning to end whatever it was in a single decisive shot.
Clearly, that plan had failed.
The lizard had been hidden in the inky darkness, ambushing him from behind. He’d barely escaped the initial strike—and lost the railgun beneath the beast in the process.
“Nano,” Jin Shu muttered, keeping his voice low, “what is this thing? I swear I recognize it, but I can’t quite place it.”
“It is a dying Cave Dragon.”
“…Huh.” Jin Shu blinked. “Intimidating name for once. But that thing is not a dragon.”
“It shares no bloodline connection with true dragons,” Nano replied evenly. “However, it remains an extremely powerful demonic beast. Cave Dragons dwell within mountain caverns and possess the strength of a Master Realm cultivator.”
“That thing’s Master Realm?!” Jin Shu’s heart skipped a beat.
“No,” Nano corrected. “As stated—it is dying. A healthy Cave Dragon has scales black as pitch. This specimen’s scales are murky brown.”
Jin Shu squinted through the gloom. Even in the dim light, he could make out the discolored, almost translucent sheen of the creature’s armor.
“When Cave Dragons approach the end of their lifespan,” Nano continued, “their scales lose pigmentation and their cultivation regresses. This one is likely at peak Spirit Realm—two full realms below its prime, yet still vastly superior to you.”
“…Wow,” Jin Shu muttered. “Thanks for the confidence boost.”
“I never stated you could not defeat it,” Nano replied. “Only that victory will require strategy rather than bravado.”
“Alright, Cap’n,” Jin Shu whispered. “What’s the strat—”
Boom!
The Cave Dragon lost its patience.
Instead of another probing tail strike, it hurled its entire body forward.
The stalagmite shattered.
Jin Shu threw himself into a roll as rock, calcified deposits, and cascading water crashed down around him. Something slammed into his side with the force of a runaway train, ripping the air from his lungs.
He wheezed, scrambling blindly through the chaos.
Dust choked the cavern, debris still falling as the darkness thickened. Jin Shu searched desperately for the faint outline of his railgun—but with the air clogged and visibility reduced to just a few feet, it was like looking for a needle in a collapsing mountain.
***
A group of women traveled through the crimson desert when the sands ahead of them suddenly collapsed inward, spiraling into a massive whirlpool.
From its center erupted a colossal, blood-red worm, its body studded with deathly spikes—a Death Worm, one of the desert’s most lethal creatures. A beast at the First Stage of the Adept Realm.
Chen Ai Yun was not among this group of Immortal Phoenix Sect disciples and elders. Their strongest presence was the Vice Sect Master herself—Sun Mei’er, Seventh Stage Spirit Realm.
Sun Mei’er paused mid-sentence as the Death Worm emerged. In the same instant, she vanished in a spark of red light. Several flashes of that crimson glow appeared around the beast within a single second—then she was back where she had been standing, as though she’d never moved at all, calmly resuming her conversation.
“Like I was saying,” Sun Mei’er laughed, “Jin Shu was ten when he escaped his bath and ran around the Jin residence completely naked. His father caught him and gave him a spanking, so he came crying to me for help. Naturally, I beat his father until he cried for his own mother.”
Tian Li’s gaze shifted slowly from Sun Mei’er to the towering Death Worm. Her face drained of color as she tried to calculate how they might fight such a monster—and how many of them would die trying.
A sudden wind swept across the desert, striking the motionless beast.
The Death Worm collapsed in seven perfectly cut sections, deader than dead.
“Hmm…?” Sun Mei’er tapped her chin thoughtfully. “What other embarrass—ahem, I mean, fun stories could I tell you about Jin Shu?”
She seemed utterly oblivious to the stunned, disbelieving stares surrounding her.
***
Jin Shu jumped, dove, rolled, and slid, narrowly avoiding the Cave Dragon’s relentless, sweeping attacks.
“Nano! I could really use that strategy right about now!”
“Light,” Nano replied unhurriedly. “Cave Dragons are born in darkness and never leave it. A sufficiently bright light should overload their sensory system. Theoretically, even death is possible.”
“Light…?” Jin Shu paused—nearly taking a tail to the side of the head—and pulled out a flash disk. “Haha! I’m a genius—”
ROAR!
The Cave Dragon’s bellow shook the entire cavern, rattling stalactites loose and cracking the stone beneath Jin Shu’s feet.
“Damn thing! Eat this!”
He hurled the small disk straight at the Cave Dragon’s face, spinning away and clamping his eyes shut at the same time.
A blinding flash engulfed the cavern, turning the inky darkness into stark white for a split second before vanishing just as abruptly. Darkness returned.
Jin Shu waited for a roar—at least a squeal of pain—but only eerie silence followed. He turned slowly, barely able to make out the Cave Dragon’s massive form standing motionless in the center of the wide, half-destroyed cavern.
“Is it… dead?” he muttered.
“Unknown,” Nano replied.
Jin Shu raised his rifle and cautiously advanced. He stopped when he spotted his railgun half-buried in rubble. Swapping weapons, he activated the lightning runes etched along the barrel, charging a shot—just in case.
The railgun emitted a soft whir as blue light spilled outward, illuminating the cavern enough for Jin Shu to see the truth.
The creature wasn’t breathing.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and patted his chest.
“Good strategy, Nano.”
He turned to search for the path deeper into the cave—but froze as a tiny movement caught his eye.
The Cave Dragon’s eyelids twitched… then slowly opened.
It sucked in a massive breath, like a whale swallowing the sea. The sheer force nearly dragged Jin Shu toward its gaping maw.
He pivoted instantly, didn’t bother aiming, and pulled the trigger.
A black dart tore from the railgun at mach speed, trailing electric-blue light.
It slammed into the Cave Dragon’s front leg, blasting away a huge chunk of armored scales and exposing a gaping, bloody wound.
The beast roared in agony. The sound and the stench of its breath crashed into Jin Shu, nearly knocking him unconscious.
He fired again. The dart ripped across its side, peeling away a long swath of scales.
The Cave Dragon lunged forward on its remaining good leg, its massive claw—larger than Jin Shu was tall—slamming into his chest.
He flew backward, gripping the railgun desperately to keep from losing it again. The blow should have crushed him completely, but the creature’s injuries robbed it of its full strength. Even so, Jin Shu felt bones shatter throughout his body as he skipped and rolled across the debris-strewn floor.
His momentum finally died when his back slammed into a fallen stalactite. Pain exploded through him, his vision swimming—but he was still alive.
Without hesitation, he raised the railgun again, this time aiming straight for the beast’s head.
Nothing happened.
No movement. No breath. Only absolute stillness.
“What’s it doing?” Jin Shu growled. “Playing dead again?”
“It was never pretending,” Nano said. “The Cave Dragon died the moment your flash disk activated. The shock to its already failing system was fatal.”
“…Then what was that?”
“When you approached with another external stimulus—the glow from your weapon—its nervous system reacted on residual instinct.”
Jin Shu blinked. “So… if I’d just turned around and left, it would’ve stayed dead?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“…Leave dead things alone,” Jin Shu muttered. “Noted.”
With a thought, a glassy red pill appeared in Jin Shu’s palm from his space earring. He tossed it into his mouth and swallowed it whole. The pill slid down his throat, dissolving before it reached his stomach, and warm healing energy spread through his body.
Shattered bones knit together. Torn flesh sealed itself. Even the dull headache he hadn’t noticed faded away—all at a visible speed.
“Thank you, Bin Yu,” Jin Shu murmured. “You’re a lifesaver… literally.”
“Bin Yu is not present,” Nano said.
“Yeah, I know,” Jin Shu replied awkwardly. “It was just… I don’t know. Felt right.”
“Hm. I see.”
Jin Shu glanced back toward the Cave Dragon’s corpse. “Hey… Master Realm demonic beasts have Master Realm demonic cores, right?”
“Correct.”
“No, wait. I mean—does it still have one? Even after its cultivation regressed?”
“It should,” Nano answered. “Though the core will lack the energy of a healthy Master Realm beast.”
“That’s fine.” Jin Shu’s eyes gleamed. “Even a weakened Master Realm core would be an incredible resource. A Spirit Realm core can power a formation for years. A Master Realm one could probably sustain even the most resource-intensive formations for centuries.”
He approached the Cave Dragon again, this time without activating the railgun—just in case, despite it being very dead.
Jin Shu kicked its side. The massive corpse toppled over with a dull thud. Circling to its head, he drew his ballistic knife and began carving through the thick scales covering its forehead.
The process was slow, exhausting, and thoroughly unpleasant.
At last, he cut through the skull and reached inside. When he withdrew his hand, he held a glowing red crystal sphere. He wiped the blood from it on his robes, and the glow softened to a clean white.
“Huh. No attribute?” Jin Shu shrugged. “That’s fine.”
He stored the demonic core inside his space earring and turned away, leaving the rest of the corpse untouched.
If any other cultivator had witnessed him abandon a Master Realm demonic beast like that, they would have wept tears of blood.
But Jin Shu was simply too rich.
He had two mothers who led the most powerful sect in the eastern region. He was the Golden Prince—nephew of the Sun Empire’s emperor—and the sole inheritor of the Jin family. Anything he desired could be delivered into his hands before the day ended.
Not that he often relied on those connections.
He cared little for wealth or luxury. Protecting his loved ones was the only thing he truly valued.