Chapter 63: Chapter 63: Xinliu Library
Gazing at the massive, five-meter-long "lump" coiled in the mud pit, Ron found it hard to imagine what possessed the creature to claim it was still young.
No matter how many movies and documentaries he had seen in his past life, or even the skeletons of prehistoric beasts in museums, nothing could compare to the impact of a real, living Giant Dragon coiled right in front of him.
And this was just a juvenile. What kind of visual spectacle would a fully grown one be—a behemoth with a body and wingspan reaching twenty to thirty meters, weighing seventy to eighty tons?
This wasn’t some man-made steel beast, but a true machine of flesh and blood!
’Add to that their innate Casting Ability and breath attacks—who wouldn’t want to be a Dragon Knight?!’
"Are you thinking about how to ride me?" The Black Dragon stood up, his expression unfriendly as he snorted hot air in Ron’s face. "Don’t be so quick to deny it. My ’teacher’ says you humans all have this tendency."
"But I will never let you ride me. Almost no creature likes another race, especially a weaker one, riding on its back. Do you understand?"
"Of course, of course!" Ron raised his hands innocently. "I would never dream of it. We’re neighbors, remember?"
"That’s more like it," Aiksuuri nodded in satisfaction. "Now that the crisis at my doorstep is resolved, it wouldn’t be right for you to leave just like that after coming all this way."
"May I invite you to my home for a brief visit, so that I may do the honors as a host?"
The Young Dragon’s tone was somewhat forced and stiff. Ron figured this was his "teacher’s" doing; the dragon was still in an adjustment phase, and they were probably his first guests rather than his first prey.
The group naturally accepted the invitation. However, before entering the Black Dragon’s lair, Ron had one more question:
"Mr. Aiksuuri, what’s the story with all these ruins? Do you have any idea what happened here?"
"I don’t know, I’m only eight," Aiksuuri said after a moment of thought. "I hatched in a swamp nearby. From the moment I first laid eyes on this world, the area was already like this."
"It’s probably been abandoned for about a hundred years, maybe longer. An Elf came here once during that time, but I was too weak back then, so I didn’t dare get close to him."
"An Elf?" Ron and the others exchanged glances. "Can you tell us more?"
"More details? I don’t know what else to say," the eight-year-old Black Dragon mused. "He wasn’t special. Just like the Elves in my ancestral memories—tall, slender, fair-skinned, pointed ears, blond hair, and blue eyes. That’s it."
"Oh, right. He wore a rapier."
Although the traits the Black Dragon described could apply to tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of Elves or even Half-Elves, Ron was convinced this person had to be the ever-haunting Ming Datiss.
"When did he come here? Do you remember?"
"The first time I saw him was five years, ten months, and three days ago," the Black Dragon replied with a very precise date. "He enthusiastically rummaged through this place for three months, then left the ruins clutching a pile of tattered books."
"It seems he knew about this place first, before the cave, the stone tablets, and everything else," Aive mused. "Can you take us there? You still remember where it was, right?"
The Black Dragon’s voice held a hint of reluctance and hurt. "I remember... but are you sure you don’t want to tour my home first? It’s much more interesting than those piles of rubble, I guarantee it!"
"This matter of ours is very impor—mmph—" Aive was cut off mid-sentence as Ron clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Ah, it’s like this: our custom is to experience the bitter before the sweet. First, we’ll witness the decline of the humanoid races, and then we’ll behold the might of the Dragon Race. The contrast will only make your lair seem all the more magnificent, don’t you think?"
’What a joke,’ Ron thought. ’Black Dragons aren’t exactly known for their good tempers. Besides, the Dragon Race are generally only casual followers of their Deities; whether they do good or evil depends mostly on their own free will.’
’If we really angered him over something like this, we could probably take him, but what if his "teacher" and that mother we’ve never met are overprotective? That could lead to some rather... unacceptable consequences.’
’It’s best not to provoke the Dragon Race unless absolutely necessary.’
"In that case, you’re right! I’ll take you to see it!" The Young Dragon was surprisingly easy to fool. With just a simple, made-up excuse, Ron had managed to turn Aiksuuri’s dejection and mild anger back into delight. The dragon cheerfully led Ron and his companions toward a patch of ruins not far away.
This patch of ruins didn’t look much different from the others. The only clue was that it had been searched "recently." A shattered sign was propped up on the rubble.
"Green... Street, No. ..., Xinliu Lib...ry"
"After I built my lair, I rummaged through all the nearby buildings. For any where I could still find a name, I put the sign in a conspicuous place."
"So you can repair them later?" Aive asked curiously.
"Repairs? Why would I repair them?" Aiksuuri asked, looking puzzled. "I don’t have time for that. This is just for my own convenience."
"I’m still young, and I have so much to learn. These ruins are my greatest textbooks. From them, I learn about architecture, art, and the culture and history of creatures like you. My ’teacher’ is very fond of this learning method."
"This town has been abandoned for so long without anyone coming to rebuild it, which proves it no longer has any value. Placing the signs is just my way of putting bookmarks in my textbooks."
"Here, see this? This is all that’s left," Aiksuuri said, using his claw to push aside the stone slabs, withered branches, and dead leaves that were loosely covering the ground. What lay before Ron and the others was a series of heavily weathered stone tablets.
The inscriptions on the tablets were faded and difficult to decipher. Even where the strokes were still visible, Ron couldn’t make out what any of it said.
"Wait a minute," Aive leaned in, tracing the inscriptions with her hand. "This should be the Elf Language. Give me a moment, and I’ll translate it for you."
"Let’s see... This tablet seems to be a chronicle of the town’s history. No wonder they carved it in stone."
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