Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The air stank of powdered glass, the rusty-rot stench Shadowmare had left behind, and the cold, empty smell of time itself—Eternal Dream’s power evaporating. That unholy cocktail turned the already-trashed bathroom into a gas chamber.

Wei Wu’s earth-shattering “Smells great!” kept echoing inside my ringing skull.

Great? Great my ass! I’d just finished detoxing and hadn’t even showered! I’d brawled with an oil-slick monster! The place smelled like a landfill explosion!

On my wrist, the Eternal Dream: Prime Abyss bracelet—its river of time—seemed to slow, choked by the atmosphere. The ghostly forms inside had paused their bickering. Xing Dian hovered near my left wrist, indigo flames flickering with curiosity; Yue Fei draped herself over the right, violet-crystal eyes judging the two of us like we were particularly stupid mortals.

I clutched the bracelet—now shrunk back to a plain bangle—still icy, still trembling. Cherry-white hair clung to my neck. My clear-blue battle-gaze hadn’t faded, but what dwarfed it was the gigantic, ridiculous shame of being called “nice-smelling” by my own brother.

My cheeks caught fire, heat rushing to my ears.

“...” I opened my mouth, trying to claw back some of Big-Bro Yun Xi’s dignity.

“...Smells your sister!” All my thoughts condensed into a cracked, squeaky girl-roar that carried zero authority.

Wei Wu looked as shocked by his own words as I was. He scrubbed a hand across his filthy face, grounding himself. One deep breath of the toxic air seemed to knock him fully awake—or numb. He stood slowly, exhaustion and data-overload written in every movement. His normally sharp eyes were as complicated as an alien-autopsy diagram.

“Fine.” His voice came out gravel-low but crystal-clear, the sound of a man who’d decided to torch every last boat. “Yun Xi.”

He’d used the right name. His stare drilled past the half-naked girl in front of him and pinned the ‘Yun Xi’ I still believed lived inside.

“Even if...” His gaze slid over my towel-wrapped body (I yanked it tighter!), my cherry-white hair, my glass-blue eyes, finally landing on the silver-blue bracelet where a tiny river of time still flowed. His mouth twitched. “...even if you’ve turned into... this, and you’re pulling some Magical-Girl transformation crap...”

Magical-Girl... My own mouth twitched.

“Now,” Wei Wu barked, volume spiking, finger stabbing at the devastation, “start talking. From the second you yelled ‘log in for me.’ Every. Damn. Word. Or I’m calling the cops—illegal WMD possession plus public-health code violation!”

His shout bounced off the broken tiles, pure big-brother ultimatum: confess or we’re not done.

Explain? How? “I’ve got an ancestor living in my skull, she ‘thanked’ me by turning me into a girl, handed me a divine artifact, and a monster gate-crashed the party.” Who’d buy that? I’d get VIP commitment papers before I finished the sentence.

While my brain blue-screened, the two living trinkets on my wrist found their moment to shine.

“Master, master! Don’t move—let us handle cleanup!” Xing Dian’s childish voice rang out; the indigo fire-ghost shot toward the puddles of black slime.

The little indigo dragon hovered, opened its mouth—and inhaled.

Whoosh—

Invisible suction turned the tar-thick goo into spaghetti strands that vanished down the dragon’s gullet. Its flame-body glowed brighter and denser.

“Ugh... weird flavour... but the energy’s primo!” Slurping Shadow-noodles, Xing Dian mumbled, “Promise we’ll polish every speck, Master. Low-grade shadow energy is top-tier fuel for Eternal Dream!”

Meanwhile Yue Fei stretched with feline grace, her sakura-white glow drifting to the floor.

“Mew~ Battlefield tidiness is part of a guardian’s elegance, and for once the dumb lizard said something sensible.” Amethyst eyes swept over the glittering shards, equal parts disgust and control.

She tapped the air.

“Freeze.”

An invisible, icy force field snapped outward. Every shard—on the floor, still falling—halted mid-air like someone had hit pause.

With a conductor’s flick of her fluffy tail:

“Return.”

All the glass fragments zipped to the corner trash can, slotting in without a clink. In a blink, the danger was gone.

Yue Fei licked a paw and floated back to my wrist. “Mew, done. Next time, please keep the arena tidy, Master. Clutter ruins a guardian’s poise.”

I watched a dragon slurp noodles, watched a cat conduct glass like symphony percussion, then looked at Wei Wu’s face—science-fiction or fantasy, which channel was he on?

Explain? The evidence was literally crawling all over me.

Just as Wei Wu sucked in a breath, temple vein jumping, about to demand a scientific white-paper or else he’d pry the bracelet off with a crowbar—

“Pfft.”

A lazy, teasing laugh.

Not Xing Dian. Not Yue Fei.

It came from the cracked floor-to-ceiling mirror.

In the reflection Wei Wu and I stood ankle-deep in debris. But beside my image floated a translucent girl in an elaborate moon-white gown—cherry-white hair, glass-blue eyes: the culprit herself, Meng Yun Xi.

Chin propped on one hand, she watched our dumbstruck faces, lips curled in satisfied mischief.

“Looks like...” her airy voice filled the bathroom, post-credits scene satisfaction dripping from every syllable, “the gifts unwrapped perfectly~ Xing Dian and Yue Fei found their owner, how lovely.”

Gifts?! Perfect?! I almost choked.

Wei Wu’s head whipped toward the mirror, finger stabbing at the phantom. “Who—who the hell is she?! Hologram? What tech is this?!”

Meng Yun Xi ignored him, gaze sliding to me with creepy maternal pride.

“Then, as promised~” She flicked a finger at me. “Time to sign for the last two newbie packs. No need to thank me—you earned them~”

Bzzzz—!!!

A torrent rawer, deeper, older than any detox slammed through my soul—through the very source of my bloodline. Double awakening!

“Gaaah—!!!”

Agony like body-and-soul being shredded and re-knit flared a hundred thousand times hotter. Vision blacked out; my knees smashed to the tiles, nails scrabbling for grip.

“Yun Xi!” Wei Wu lunged to help.

“Don’t touch the Master!” Both spirits shrieked in my skull.

Too late.

The instant his fingers brushed my convulsing shoulder—

Zzzt—!!!

A silver-blue arc of lightning lashed out, branding his skin. He hissed, jerking back, staring at the blister already forming. The spark carried time-stop frost and space-rip teeth.

“Master’s core is awakening! Outside force triggers chaos!” Xing Dian wailed.

“Back off, stupid human!” Yue Fei’s voice dropped, deadly serious.

Wei Wu could only clench his fists, eyes wide, as I curled on the floor, every muscle knotting, silver-blue magma seeming to pulse beneath my skin.

Pain—impossible pain. Red-hot needles in every bone marrow drop. Invisible hands yanking my spine out to reforge it. An ancient, regal will thundered awake inside me, roaring its name:

Space-Time Dragon Bloodline!

“Ngh... grr...” My voice cracked between girl-shriek and dragon-growl.

“Space-Time Dragon... blood...” Meng Yun Xi intoned, distant and awed. “Mortal flesh bearing draconic might. Pain is the baptism. Survive, and you’ll touch the scepter of time... if only a shard...”

Dragon?! Who asked for scales? I just wanted to be a regular, penniless, gender-confirmed shut-in!

The mutation rolled on.

Crack...

A sound like jade splitting came from my temples.

Peak agony hit.

“Aaaah—!!!”

With a scream half release, half surrender, two crystalline horns—spiral-carved, purest crystal—pierced skin and hair, rising slowly, glowing faint silver-blue. Dragon horns.

Humiliation level-up! Towel crisis returns!

My convulsing tore the last grip; the towel fluttered off. Acres of sweat-slick skin met cold air and Wei Wu’s widening eyes. I wanted to self-destruct. Futile arms tried to cover nothing; the shame actually eclipsed the pain for a heartbeat.

Gift number two arrived before I could finish dying of embarrassment.

The dragon’s roar hadn’t faded when a different, equally vast power—heavy, star-cold—poured through me like a galaxy overturning. No tearing this time; instead it merged, rewriting the base code of my blood with detached, divine finality. Fate itself, weighing every thread.

“Fate Judgment... Blood...” Meng Yun Xi’s voice rang cathedral-deep. “Carry the weight of verdict, pluck the strings of destiny. This bloodline is the key...”

Key? To what? I couldn’t think; I shook hard enough to rattle bones. Exposed skin pebbled in the cold, glowing faintly.

Next came my scalp—burning tingle.

My cherry-white hair bleached to liquid gold at the roots, the colour of high noon, of molten glory. The wave rushed outward; seconds later the whole dripping mop shone brilliant gold against the dragon horns.

I lay flat, heaving steam, every breath a post-battle shudder. Horns jutted cold above my brows; golden strands plastered my cheeks. Inside me, time rivers and fate verdicts coiled like twin serpents.

What kind of monster had I become?

“M-Master?” Xing Dian whispered, worried.

“Hmph. Space-Time Dragon bloodline initialised; Fate Judgment blood fully integrated... still minuscule,” Yue Fei muttered, tail twitching.

I lifted my head, sweat stinging my eyes, and looked at the mirror.

There she was: a girl collapsed in wreckage, gold hair pouring like liquid sunlight, glass-blue eyes blurred with pain; two small crystal horns gleaming regal; skin marble-white and beaded with sweat—an impossible blend of draconic majesty, divine authority, girlish fragility, and maximum social-death.

Beside that reflection, Meng Yun Xi waved, satisfied, already dissolving.

“Gifts delivered~ The rest is up to you, adorable ‘me’~ Until next time~”

Her image rippled away, voice fading into the silvered glass.

Only my ragged breathing remained... and—

Click.

A soft thud.

I followed the sound.

Wei Wu had somehow backed all the way to the bathroom door, shoulders pressed to the frame, face white as printer paper. The cigarette he’d just lit—hadn’t even taken a drag—lay at his feet, the tip hissing against the wet tile and curling up a ghost-thin wisp of smoke.

Those eyes of his, veteran of a hundred storms, now reboot-frozen on the blue screen of existence, were nailed to me—to my sun-bright gold hair, to the pair of crystal dragon horns on my forehead, to every exposed inch of this wrecked, freak-show new look. His gaze brushed my skin and flinched away like it burned; the muscles in his face spasmed, then locked in the blank stare of a man whose operating system had just crashed.

His lips quivered; his Adam’s apple bobbed as if trying to cold-boot a language module that had already melted. Finally, in a flat, soul-drained, post-CPU-bonfire monotone, he delivered the line destined for the classics:

“...I just... stepped outside... for one lousy cigarette...”

He pointed at the dead butt, then at me, eyes empty as a toy robot with its circuits yanked out.

“...You change hairstyles faster than turning a page... and... and now you’re sprouting horns...”

He sucked in a breath big enough to store the whole bathroom’s weirdness and that brain-scarring image on a permanent memory chip, then let it out in a slow, resigned sigh of cosmic exhaustion:

“...Trying to finish the job? Want my CPU reduced to ash?”