Crossing into the Huàn Jiè — the Illusory Realm of Dreams — Zhì Fēng glided through the endless sea of clouds, his vast serpentine form stirring storms in his wake. The heavens shimmered with spectral light as they passed over countless civilizations suspended between stars and mist. Floating citadels, luminous gardens, and spiraling towers bent under his shadow as he ascended toward the upper reaches of the realm.
At last, they arrived before the Ebon Gates of Reverie, colossal doors of obsidian and silver that stretched beyond the sight of mortals. Upon them bloomed the sigil of a Black Lotus, each petal pulsing faintly as though alive, drinking in the essence of the realm itself. Flanking the gate stood two titanic guardians — beings wrought from stone and divinity, their eyes glowing like molten suns.
The moment they beheld the approaching trio, the guardians fell to one knee, their thunderous voices resonating through the clouds:
"Your Majesty."
With reverent motion, they raised their colossal arms. The gates parted in a cascade of dreamlight.
Àn descended from Zhì Fēng's horn, the dragon-serpent's form folding upon itself in waves of luminous mist until only his humanoid figure remained — tall, ethereal, his aura stretching beyond mortal measure. Behind him, Rui Ying shed her feline form; shadows rippled around her until she stood as a woman in black silk, emerald eyes alight with quiet devotion.
Together, they stepped through the gate.
Beyond it lay a vision of otherworldly splendor — floating islands of white jade and crystal lakes, each radiating its own rhythm of life. From towering peaks to glimmering valleys, hundreds of thousands knelt upon shimmering platforms of light. They were of countless races — neither demon, god, nor fairy, but beings who existed between dreams and divinity.
In unison, their voices rose like an ocean tide:
"We give praise to Your Majesty!"
Above them, winged beasts circled the skies — phoenixes, drakes, and qilin wreathed in colored flame. Those in flight bowed their heads mid-air, wings stilled in reverence. Even the wind hushed itself in devotion.
Àn walked the length of the Ivory Aisle of Dreams, each step echoing across the islands.
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the horizon.
"Two millennia…"
He murmured, voice calm, yet resonant enough to still the hearts of all who listened.
Then, with a flick of his hand, he removed the veil-hat from his head. He cast it upward — and as it ascended, it dissolved into dusts of starlight. His face, untouched by time, was revealed — serene, divine, and yet shadowed by weariness.
A silence fell over the realm — then a commander, overcome with fervor, rose and shouted:
"A feast shall be held! Let the rain of stars fall once more! Rejoice—our King has returned, and the Dream shall rise again!"
The response was thunderous. Cheers rippled through the skies, beasts roared in harmony, and the heavens themselves seemed to glitter with joy. A cascade of light fell like rain — the rain of stars, reborn after two thousand years.
But Àn was no longer there.
Before the echoes of celebration could fade, he and his companions — Zhì Fēng and Rui Ying — had already vanished, leaving behind only a faint afterimage of shimmering lotus petals.
In the next breath, they stood upon the highest of the floating isles — the Palace of Dreams, seat of the King of Chaos. The palace stretched across half the island, an expanse of marble peaks, mirrored lakes, and mountains veiled in immortal mist.
Beneath its vaulted heavens, the power of forgotten ages stirred once more.
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In the farthest corner of his vast chambers — where the scent of sandalwood and spirit lotus lingered faintly in the air — Àn reclined upon his throne-bed of black jade and woven silk.
He wore a loose robe of shadow, its folds parting to reveal the pallor of his chest and abdomen — skin so smooth it gleamed faintly under the soft starlight that filtered through the crystal ceiling above. His trousers flowed like a cascade of night itself, and his hair — a silken river of white streaked with dark, flame-like hues — drifted and shimmered as though caught between worlds, fading at the ends to an ethereal shade of deep violet.
Around his neck hung a golden chain bearing an emerald pendant, radiant yet ominous, its core pulsing faintly with ancient qi. Golden harness-chains adorned his torso, each link crafted with floral motifs and embedded with gemstones that flickered like captured souls. Across his forearms gleamed leaf-shaped arm cuffs, and his long, slender fingers bore snake-shaped rings chained delicately to matching bracelets — the ornaments of a ruler both beautiful and perilous.
When he moved, the gold and jewels whispered softly — not as decoration, but as seals of dominion.
In one languid hand, Àn held a dark pipe, its bowl of violet crystal veined with obsidian, a thin chain and tassel swaying from its end. As he drew in, the smoke coiled about his fangs — sharp, white, inhumanly perfect — before he released a slow breath. Purple mist curled upward, painting the room in dreamlike hues.
A faint motion stirred behind his hair — from beneath the silken strands, a pair of foxlike ears, soft and furred, twitched into view. Their sudden appearance did not diminish his majesty; instead, it lent him an unearthly allure — one that blurred the boundary between god and demon.
Beyond a veil of black gauze, his two loyal companions awaited — shadows amidst shadow.
"After Xiǎo Lóng returned to the Primordial Palace," Àn began, voice low and smooth, "he became the Fifth Prince. And according to you two… his strength rivals?"
Rui Ying bowed slightly, her voice soft yet resonant,
"All the lesser kings combined."
Zhì Fēng's tone rumbled like distant thunder,
"And he has already chosen his companion beast."
Àn's golden eyes half-lidded.
"A lesser dragon?"
"Yes, my lord," they answered in unison.
Àn took another slow drag from his pipe. The violet smoke trailed through the air like liquid silk before vanishing into nothingness.
"I'm not surprised by his progress,"
He murmured, almost to himself.
"Though many are still struggling to surpass the Dual Crescent Stage…"
Rui Ying let out a soft purr, her tail swaying lazily behind the veil.
"Master did use his own tears and blood to forge an unbreakable foundation for him."
Àn's lips curved faintly — not warmth, but memory.
"Of course I did," he whispered, the smirk fading as soon as it appeared.
"He was… my little dragon."
The final words lingered, heavy with centuries of silence. The smoke curled upward once more, dimming the starlight — and for a moment, even the palace itself seemed to breathe with him.