Chapter 20: Chapter 16: The Son of the Candle Dragon
Time began to flow again, and the mentor was the first outsider to sense that something was amiss; he looked at Durin, "Your position is wrong."
"Hmm, the flow of time had indeed stopped."
Durin spoke truthfully, dispelling his dancing light spell, and shook his head as he looked at Anta, "I have chosen the power from my grandmother, the lineage of the Candle Dragon."
Anta looked astonished, "Ah? The lineage of the Candle Dragon, a promotion I've never heard of."
The peers standing behind her, Durin's senior and junior brothers and sisters, all opened their mouths in shock.
The mentor walked up to Durin and patted his shoulder, "My boy, you have finally taken this step, which is a good thing. You have proved to everyone that you are not the evil sorcerer from the rumors. As for your promotion, I am aware, but you must go back and ask your grandfather about it."
Evil sorcerer—Durin had of course heard these rumors, which also owed their thanks to the youngest of the Griffiths Family—aside from the undisciplined older relatives who were puzzled at the beginning due to Durin's magician profession not showing any signs of dragon lineage, the majority were from peers jealous of Durin and Anta's close relationship.
It was because Durin kept an old heart hidden within, always reluctant to stoop to the level of a bunch of twelve or thirteen-year-old brats—why would I bother fighting with kids who have barely lived a fraction of my life?
Of course, he couldn't say that, so Durin just smiled and nodded, "Thank you for your guidance, mentor. I understand."
"That's right, but no need to thank me, everything is the arrangement of fate." The mentor's reply was somewhat enigmatic, but Durin didn't mind. In this world, mages, magicians, and deity position holders often chalked things up to fate's arrangement, or to the land itself, as if it were a professional catchphrase.
After all, it was a world where True Gods existed; materialists faced with True Gods could only acknowledge their actual existence, otherwise, they would end up fabricating idealistic tall tales.
After saying goodbye to the mentor and his fellow training brothers and sisters, Durin and Anta left the Mage Tower.
Anta was eyeing Durin all the way out.
"Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?" Durin was curious.
"Your dragon scale, just beneath your left eye, a small one, almost mistaken for a mole if one doesn't look closely. And there's a lump on the side of your forehead," Anta explained.
Durin reached up and indeed felt a small scale, much like old Yishu, who had one beneath his ear, a dominant sign of dragon lineage.
As for the lump on his forehead, it was quite hard, and there was a similar one obscured by his hair on the other side, which made Durin feel a bit gloomy, "These lumps are quite hard. I'm not going to grow horns, am I?"
"Growing horns, eh? I have seen some dragon lineage magicians who do grow horns, but their placement seems to be different from yours," Anta remarked, still curious. "What's the lineage of the Candle Dragon? I need to look this up in books."
"Let me know if you find anything," Durin said.
"You don't know something, Durin?" Anta said, wrapping Durin's arm with her own, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"There's so much I don't know." Durin thought the girl had too high of an opinion of him.
For instance, Durin didn't know why he had come to this strange and unfamiliar world with magic and firearms, wild monsters and mutants in the eastern wilds, a land both foreign and familiar that frustrated him. Moreover, he couldn't understand why he had become a non-human Grassland Elf, or how his Biological Monitor had turned into a system tool he carried with him, allowing him to glimpse data by squinting at people. And this system, calling itself Big Orange, was quite unique, showing less data if someone stronger was encountered.
Fortunately, he still had a loyal and reliable ally.
"Durin, I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry too? Let's go have some pastries," Anta suggested, a shift to caring for their appetites.
"Come to my manor; I'll make you honey cake," Durin offered, looking at Anta. "We'll bake the cake first, then we can enjoy some donuts and milk tea."
"Sounds good," Anta replied happily, taking Durin's hand.
On their way back to the manor, Durin couldn't help but express, "You're really not going home? What about your mother?"
"I'll be a seventh-ring high-order mage by next year after my promotion. What can they do to me?" Holding Durin's hand, Anta spoke with pride, "At thirteen years old, a seventh-ring mage, my grandfather will surely be proud of me."
Indeed, which was why she was considered such a prized possession.
Anyway, Durin was prepared to fight against his ever-increasing adversaries until the end of the world.
As they approached the manor, the gate had been repaired. After paying the carriage fare, Durin led Anta into the yard, where old Yishu was lying on a sun lounger.
Seeing Durin return, he smiled and waved his hand.
Durin gestured for Anta to go to the living room first, and then he approached his grandfather.
"How did the ascension end?" Old Yishu asked with a smile.
"It's the Candle Dragon lineage," Durin said, then chose to remain silent. Indeed, Durin was very curious about his own grandmother's identity—the Grassland Elf woman hanging on the central wall of the second-floor hall did not seem at all like someone with the Candle Dragon lineage.
"You really chose this path, come with me." As if not at all surprised, Old Yishu signaled Durin to follow him, and the elder and younger ascended the staircase to the second floor. At the corner, Old Yishu stopped and looked toward the wall at the kind-looking old woman, "Your grandmother is not the one on this wall. She was my first wife. She passed away after giving birth to your six aunts. Your grandmother came from the distant Eastern Land."
"Where is the Eastern Land?" Durin had seen the term Eastern Land in history books, but the descriptions were vague, "Is it the land of the East?"
"Yes, it's the land of the East. It is separated from us by an immeasurable, vast Dark Zone," Old Yishu said as he led Durin toward the third floor. He took a key from his pocket and opened a door that Durin had never opened before.
Durin entered the room behind his grandfather and saw a small bedroom. On the wall hung a painting of a white-haired young girl, not much different from a Grassland Elf in appearance. She had small horns on both sides of her forehead, and behind her, Durin could see a long tail.
My goodness, a pure Eastern Land Dragonkind. There isn't even any Spiritual Energy here, but Dragonkind from the Eastern Land can still give birth to descendants with a dominant bloodline. This really isn't Earth.
Big Orange remarked thus.
"I had your mother with her. Your mother, upon seeing the Candle Dragon lineage, chose the way of the Silver Dragon. Your brother and sister did not encounter the ascension path of the Candle Dragon lineage during their ascension ceremony, but you saw and chose this path." Speaking of this, Old Yishu moved next to the portrait, looking at the girl depicted, "She said she's a half-blood of Grassland Elves and Dragonkind from the Eastern Land. There are also Grassland Elf clans there. Her mother was one of them. That's why she chose to board a ship heading to the distant Western Lands."
"How did you meet her?" Durin looked at the young girl in the painting. She was from Southern Tai's Dragonkind, but completely different from what he remembered. At least, her tail seemed too long compared to the length he recalled for Eastern Land Dragonkind, and her horns also appeared somewhat cute.
There was still a bit of difference.
"At the Eternal Forge Fortress. I was serving there when the Eastern Landers' ships came for trade. At first, I thought she was the captain's daughter, but after the ships left and she stayed behind, I learned of her past from her. She wanted to live peacefully on new land... Eventually, I brought her back to Lublin... and later, we fell in love," Old Yishu shared and took out a cigarette case from his pocket, but ultimately put it back, "Her parents' union wasn't blessed by either family. After her parents were forcibly separated, she was sent to an orphanage and suffered much. Her bloodline awakened later. It was because of her bloodline that she chose to come to the Western Lands. I married her. We didn't intend to have children, but she disagreed, saying life is about heritage, from generation to generation... Therefore, there was your mother, and because of her birth, her health deteriorated... But she told me she had no regrets..." Old Yishu's eyes seemed to hold flames, yet they were streaming with tears, "Remember, my child, Divine Arts are not omnipotent. Life is differentiated from birth, and death, this horrific thing, is the last bit of fairness this world can offer to life. It took me a long time to accept her departure."
Durin nodded, looking at the girl in the painting, "Will I also become like this, with a long tail?"
"Perhaps, perhaps you won't be like a Silver Dragon, but no matter what, you are a member of the Dragon Race. Although there are differences between the Eastern Land Dragonkind and the Western Lands Dragonkind, you will always be my dear grandchild," Old Yishu finished, sighing.
"Grandfather, what was my grandmother's name?" Durin was curious.
"Mo Yan." This single sentence, a single line of Chinese, slipped from Old Yishu's mouth.
Durin's heart clenched.
"Mo Yan, surname Mo, given name Yan. It's an Eastern Lander surname. I don't blame you for not understanding, after all, learning a language requires the right environment," Old Yishu spoke and once again gazed at the portrait.
He did not see the surprise and confusion in his grandson's eyes.
Some say that the universe is so vast, the world is so large, there must be a place where the story repeats itself. I used to think it was nonsense, but now I'm starting to believe it.
Big Orange expressed in Durin's mind.
Durin thought so too.
Old Yishu ultimately chose to leave. This room contained too many of his memories, so he did not hand the key over to Durin in the end.
Durin understood that the day the key came into his hands would signify the room had become real history—all beauty would become the past, and all lives that had lived would turn into people in stories.
But until that day arrives, this room and the person in the painting belong only to Old Yishu.
They are not owned by history, nor by stories.
Thinking this, Durin looked at the painting inside the room until the door closed.
Goodbye and... goodnight.