Chapter 958 — The Eternal Cradle

Gaoyang glanced at Amber. He actually wanted to say that this half-elf had no right to talk about others—her own manner of birth was far stranger than these "dragons of Tarrande"—but the words reached his lips and he did not say them.

What he had seen and heard here was simply too far beyond expectation, there was too much worth pondering, so much so that even his fondness for crude jokes had lost its savor.

A few minutes later, they left the hatching factory and came to the takeoff and landing platform area outside.

Noretta led Amber and Virolai toward a nearby platform, while Metzen transformed once more into a dragon before Gaoyang and stood at the center of the landing platform. Looking out at the vast night beyond the platform and the dense city lights at the foot of the mountain, like rivers cast from light, Gaoyang could not help raising his head to ask: "Where are we going next?"

"I will take you to the Lower City—there is a district I visit often, the environment there is not bad," Metzen said as she lowered her wings. "Come up. The night has grown rather deep; we lingered too long at the hatching factory."

Gaoyang walked toward Metzen, but before stepping onto the dragon's wing, he first took out the pocket mechanical watch he carried and glanced at the time on it, then raised his head to look at the star-strewn night sky overhead.

This small gesture roused Metzen's curiosity: "What? Do you have other plans?"

"No, nothing—just checking the time," Gaoyang said, putting the watch away with a smile and a shake of his head. "Here, it is not only Amber—even my own sense of time has become disordered."

Metzen did not grow suspicious. She waited until Gaoyang had settled securely on her back, then slowly took two steps toward the edge of the platform and rose into the sky on the undulation of magic—and on another platform not far beside her, the elegant white dragon Noretta likewise soared into the night.

The city lights of Tarrande swept backward through Gaoyang's field of vision.

It was a brief flight; from the towering hatching factory spire to the district Metzen had mentioned was only the distance of a dive and a gliding deceleration. Gaoyang soon saw a district expanding rapidly in his view, and many towering buildings of a style utterly different from the human world rushed toward him.

These were exceedingly solid and exquisite structures—placed in the Loren Continent, perhaps kings and dukes could not have lived in such houses. Fine residences lined this district row upon row, lights flickered among the streets and alleys, and advertisements and short art films rendered by holographic projection filled the eye. It looked prosperous to the utmost degree, advanced to the utmost degree.

Yet Gaoyang already knew that this was, in fact, the "Lower City of Tarrande."

Spacious and grand to a human; cramped and confining to a dragon.

There was no dedicated landing platform within the district, so Metzen and Noretta descended directly onto an open space that resembled a small plaza. And on the streets near this open space, many passersby—many "people"—shuttled to and fro.

When the great dragon landed, Gaoyang felt a faint tremor beneath his feet. He let out a breath and made to step down to the ground, but in the very instant he moved, something stirred within him.

Drawn by some kind of "intuition," he instinctively raised his head and looked around.

Countless faint, barely-there shadows, like black chains, drifted through his field of vision!

Almost by reflex, Gaoyang jerked his head up to look overhead, yet he did not see that vast "Dragon of Disorder" again as he had expected—he saw only the night sky of the polar region, the artificial lights of the near and distant districts smearing a polluted motley of color along the edges of his sight.

The indescribable "Dragon of Disorder" did not appear, yet innumerable black, half-transparent chains floated in midair as though possessed of substance, drifting through the streets and alleys of the lower city.

Here Gaoyang saw far more "black chains" than in upper Tarrande. They linked the bustling "people" around the plaza, linked the dragons of lower Tarrande, and from their other ends drifted straight up into the sky, up toward that unseen Dragon of Disorder...

...

"My lord, the guests have entered lower Tarrande," Hragol said, hands lowered at his sides. "They are touring the streets of the lower city even now, accompanied by those two young dragons named Metzen and Noretta."

No response came from the throne bathed in light, and the whole of the temple hall seemed somewhat quiet.

The dragon god Enya sat quietly upon the magnificent seat, gazing into the distance as though lost in thought.

"My lord?" Hragol raised his head in curiosity and could not help calling softly.

The deity on the throne finally turned her gaze back and said blandly, "I know."

"My lord," Hragol said after a moment's hesitation, still speaking his mind, "is this not somewhat improper? Lower Tarrande is... rather disordered, and perhaps unfit to be shown to guests. The upper district, by comparison, has finer scenery, and would be quite enough for the guests to tour."

"It was by my instruction," the dragon god said mildly. "I had Anqian make the arrangements. Our guests are to see a whole Tarrande."

For an instant Hragol seemed about to ask something more, but in the end he lowered his head: "...Yes. I understand."

...

A kindly-looking middle-aged "man" was chatting with Metzen, while a somewhat shy little girl—five or six years old, by human reckoning—hid off to one side, sizing up Gaoyang and Amber with curious eyes. Virodai tried on a warm, friendly smile and approached the girl, only to be deftly evaded.

The "Saintess Princess," who had always relied on her smile to cultivate an approachable image, looked a little dejected, but she soon recovered and returned to Gaoyang's side.

The kindly middle-aged "man" was a resident of the lower city who ran a "fine scale-polishing shop" on the street corner, and the shy-looking little girl was his daughter, just turned one hundred and twenty this year.

Still a hatchling.

Father and daughter were among Metzen's few friends in the lower city, and were on speaking terms with Noretta as well. The "business" they ran counted as one of the few "trades" in lower Tarrande, and one thoroughly characteristic of dragons at that—but none of this mattered to Gaoyang.

What mattered was that Gaoyang could clearly see a chain extending from the top of the middle-aged "man's" head, stretching all the way into the sky—and even above the head of the little girl who looked only five or six, a faint chain was connected.

Vertex