Long Jinshu gazed up at his father, whose imposing presence radiated authority. Draped in black and gold robes, his azure hair flowed like a cascading river, and dark silver dragon horns gleamed under the light, Long Qing was the epitome of a powerful dragon leader.

    Jinshu could feel his father''s gaze pierce through him, assessing and weighing him with an intensity that made his small frame tremble. He wanted to shrink away, to hide, but he stood his ground, albeit with shaky legs.

    Just as Long Qing opened his mouth to speak, the air between him and Jiamei rippled, as if disturbed by an invisible force. It was like watching a stone thrown into a still pond.

    Out of the swirling distortion stumbled a stunning woman with flowing silver hair, her face flushed and a wine gourd dangling lazily from her fingers.

    “Amma late?” she slurred, swaying slightly as her gaze darted around the room.

    Before anyone could respond, her eyes locked onto Jinshu. A mischievous gleam sparked in her pupils as she lunged for him. sea??h thё ηovelFire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

    In the blink of an eye, before anyone could react, Jinshu found himself whisked away from his mother’s shoulder. The next thing he knew, he was in the middle of the grand hall, spinning wildly in the silver-haired woman''s arms.

    “Ahaha! Whatta cute nephew!” she laughed, her voice laced with drunken mirth.

    “B-burp!” She let out an unceremonious belch right into his face. The strong stench of alcohol made Jinshu recoil, his small claws gripping her robes as he gagged.

    Before he could protest, a massive hand clamped down on the woman’s head.

    “Let my son go, sister, or I’ll crush your empty skull,” a deep, commanding voice rumbled.

    The silver-haired woman froze for a fraction of a second before the space around them rippled again.

    In an instant, Jinshu and the woman vanished from the hall and reappeared on the jade throne. She now lounged across the seat, cradling Jinshu in her arms like a prized possession.

    “Hahaha! Why sooo serious, brother? I wasn’t about to hurt my adooorable nephew!” she laughed, her words no longer as slurred.

    Jinshu, however, wasn’t laughing. His head spun, his vision blurred, and he had no idea where he was or what was happening anymore.

    Jinshu glanced desperately at his mother, silently pleading for her help, but she only smiled back at him, calm and unbothered. He opened his mouth to question her lack of concern, but a thunderous voice cut through the air.

    “Long Zui!” Long Qing''s deep, rumbling voice echoed through the grand hall, causing the massive pillars to quiver under its weight.

    “What?” The silver-haired woman—Long Zui—replied with feigned innocence, twirling the wine gourd in her hand. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about that time I dropped you on your head?”

    Long Qing’s deep silver eyes darkened, his expression a storm of barely-contained fury. Without another word, he lunged across the hall, vanishing in a blur of speed and reappearing on the dais.

    But Long Zui was faster. She disappeared in an instant, reappearing above the jade throne, floating effortlessly in midair. Her silver hair glimmered under the glowing pearls as she gazed down at her brother with a mischievous grin.

    “You know you can’t catch me, little brother,” she teased, her voice lilting with mockery. “And look! I promise I won’t drop him.”

    She punctuated her statement by holding Jinshu upside down by his tail, letting him dangle precariously in midair.

    Jinshu glanced back at his mother again, hoping for intervention. This time, her smile had vanished, replaced by a worried frown.

    The next moment, the world blurred. Jinshu’s tiny body began to plummet as Long Zui abruptly let go.

    The rushing wind roared in his ears, and gasps echoed through the hall as the crowd watched the young dragonling fall.

    But instinct took over. Jinshu twisted midair, his sinuous body coiling and undulating as he righted himself. His scales shimmered in the glowing light as he gracefully slowed his descent, his serpentine form weaving through the air with natural elegance until he landed lightly on the polished floor.

    As he steadied himself, the crowd erupted into murmurs of admiration.

    Long Zui floated lazily above, clapping her hands in exaggerated applause. “See? Told you he’d be fine. He’s a natural.”

    Long Qing’s glare only deepened, his azure eyes blazing as his aura rose like a smoldering flame. The Qi around him surged, shaking the air like a tempest over a raging sea.

    “Alright, both of you, stop this nonsense,” Jiamei’s calm yet commanding voice cut through the tension like a blade. She approached gracefully, scooping Jinshu’s trembling body into her arms. She patted him gently, her warmth chasing away the lingering fear from his encounter with Long Zui.

    Jinshu clung tightly to his mother’s robes, his small claws curling into the fabric. He cast a wary glance at Long Zui, as if afraid she might snatch him away again.

    “Sister Zui,” Jiamei said sharply, her tone carrying a reprimand. “Come here and apologize to my son.”

    Long Zui waved a hand dismissively, taking a leisurely swig from her wine gourd. “Why should I? I knew the little scamp could fly.”

    Jiamei’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Come here now, or I’ll tell everyone what you keep in your—”

    Before Jiamei could finish her sentence, Long Zui appeared in front of her in a blur, her hand clamping down over Jiamei’s mouth. Her silver hair swayed as she leaned in, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and panic.

    “Haha, no need for that, good sister,” Long Zui said hastily, her voice slightly strained. She hesitated for a moment, then turned toward Jinshu, crouching slightly to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, little nephew,” she said begrudgingly, clearly unused to apologizing.

    Jinshu turned to her, his dizziness from earlier still churning in his stomach. His lips quivered, and before anyone could react—

    Blarg!

    This morning’s breakfast came back up in a dramatic arc, landing squarely on the front of Long Zui’s pristine robes.

    The grand hall fell deathly silent. Not even a murmur escaped the gathered dragons as they stared in stunned disbelief.

    Long Zui froze, her silver hair shimmering as she slowly tilted her head downward to inspect the mess.

    And then—

    “Ha… haha… hahahaha!” Long Qing’s deep laughter erupted, reverberating throughout the grand hall like thunder. He clutched his stomach as he leaned back, his booming laughter shaking the jade throne.

    “That’s my good son!” Long Qing declared between laughs, clapping his hands in delight.

    Long Zui stood stiffly, her wine gourd dangling uselessly in one hand. “...I’ll remember this, little nephew,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink.

    Jinshu, now feeling much better, tilted his head in confusion, his mother stroked his back to soothe him.

    Jiamei couldn’t hide her grin, though she quickly turned her face away to avoid adding insult to her sister-in-law’s injury.

    “Everyone, leave,” Long Qing ordered suddenly, his voice calm but commanding.

    An elderly dragon at the forefront of the crowd stepped forward hesitantly. “But Patriarch, the ceremony—”

    “Leave!” Long Qing''s tone sharpened as his eyes flashed dangerously. “Or would you prefer to watch my sister and me continue to disgrace ourselves in front of you all?”

    “Ah, no… but—” The old dragon tried again, only to be silenced by the weight of Long Qing’s glare.

    With a reluctant sigh, the old dragon turned and began ushering the gathered dragons out of the grand hall. Soon, only Long Qing''s wives remained, their expressions varying from amused to curious.

    Long Qing strode past his sister without a glance and retook his seat on the jade throne, his presence radiated authority. Settling into the magnificent chair, he turned his gaze to Jiamei. “Bring me my son.”

    Jiamei stepped forward, her arms tightening briefly around Jinshu before she gently pried him off her chest. She approached the throne with grace, placing Jinshu carefully into Long Qing’s arms. “Be gentle,” she warned. “He’s still shaken.”

    Jinshu straightened himself in his father’s hold, puffing out his small chest. “I—I’m not scared!” he declared, his voice trembling slightly but filled with determination.

    Long Qing raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Oh? You’re not scared?” he asked, bringing Jinshu closer to his face, their eyes locking.

    Jinshu shook his head firmly. “No!”

    “Good!” Long Qing’s laughter boomed, warm and proud. Rising to his feet, he held Jinshu aloft for all to see. “This is my son, Jinshu,” he announced, his voice reverberating through the hall. “He will be the next patriarch of the clan…” He paused, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “Unless, of course, he loses to his sisters.”

    His laughter echoed once more, but it was soon met with a scoff from Long Zui.

    “Hmph! You lost to me once, yet here you sit as patriarch,” she quipped, crossing her arms and giving him a challenging look.

    “You!” Long Qing began, his voice rising, but Jiamei and the other wives quickly stepped in between the siblings.

    “Enough, the both of you,” Jiamei said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re over a thousand years old. Stop bickering like children.”

    “It’s embarrassing,” Xue added, her cold voice cutting through the tension like ice.

    “Haha! Forget words—use your fists instead!” Huo bellowed with a hearty laugh.

    “P-please don’t fight,” Tuzi stammered, her rabbit ears drooping low as she fidgeted nervously.

    “Hmph!” Long Zui huffed, clearly uninterested in the scolding. Without hesitation, she began to strip off her soiled robes.

    “What are you doing?” Long Qing demanded, exasperated.

    “Taking off my dirty clothes. Why?” she replied, her confusion seemingly genuine.

    “Go do that in your room!”

    “Don’t wanna.”

    Long Qing sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Why did my parents curse me with this thing called a sister?” he muttered under his breath.

    Jinshu blinked up at his father, sitting quietly on his lap.

    Noticing his son’s curious stare, Long Qing softened and offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, son. I’m sure your sisters will be better than mine.”

    Jinshu glanced toward his sisters, who were chatting animatedly off to the side. Tilting his head, he wondered silently if his father’s words would hold true.