TSBIRBV Ch 244

Chapter 244. Thunder Dragon Ascends (4)

Yegyeol forgot even the faintest pretense of composure and began hopping on his feet—not from panic, but sheer joy.

“I always wanted to use it as kindling someday.”

How many times had he ached from carrying water in the freezing cold? All because Baekyang Jin-in, his former master, treasured that tree so dearly that Yegyeol had never dared to so much as kick its trunk.

“To think it was roasted alive by lightning, and I never realized it until now.”

Utterly entranced, Yegyeol reached out to touch the charred branch.

Haryang frowned slightly. “You… wanted to burn it?”

Without even turning around, Yegyeol nodded enthusiastically.

“The tree’s still got its shape, surprisingly. Guess old wood’s sturdy enough to survive a lightning strike.”

Watching Yegyeol trace the trunk with awe-lit eyes, his fingers dancing as though playing with light, Haryang let out a quiet, helpless laugh. He felt foolish for having worried so much.

Well, he supposed he should’ve expected this from Yegyeol.

“I thought you wanted it replanted because it held some special memory.”

For once, Haryang looked almost dejected, and Yegyeol quickly chose his words with care.

“‘Special memory’… that’s a stretch, but yeah, I’ve got a few memories tied to it.”

There was nuance in his tone—too much nuance, really.

At this point, he’d become a master at making things sound more emotional than they were.

Well… technically, that’s not lying, Yegyeol reasoned with himself. A little shamelessness is necessary if I want to protect my delicate Senior Brother in this ruthless martial world.

“Baekyang Jin-in,” Haryang murmured, his expression darkening, “seems quite different from the man I once knew.”

The doubts he’d carried about that Kunlun master—ever since retrieving Yegyeol—grew roots once again.

“Well, he was definitely… different from Baekun Jin-in, our sect leader,” Yegyeol replied lightly, flashing a grin.

“Senior Brother went through all this trouble to bring the tree back, and I just said I wanted to burn it. You’re not mad?”

He wasn’t afraid as he said it. After all, this was the same Yegyeol who had traipsed through every corner of the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains setting things on fire and breaking whatever wasn’t nailed down. He’d struck lightning on the Cheonma’s own residence and hadn’t even been scolded for it.

Surely one tree from Kunlun couldn’t mean that much.

In truth, compared to concubine Daji’s extravagant pleasures or the femme fatale Baosi who only smiled at silk being torn, Yegyeol was practically ascetic. He only wanted to burn one tree, after all.

“The desire came from you,” Haryang said with an easy smile. “So how it’s used should follow your will.”

Light shimmered through the charred branches and spilled across his face. Mesmerized, Yegyeol reached out toward the gleam dancing at the corner of Haryang’s eye—but froze.

Something moved near his wrist.

“Huh?”

Baembaem, the small golden snake that had recently been rather sluggish, suddenly stirred.

Yegyeol watched, stunned, as the spirit creature slithered up the blackened trunk. Its scales gleamed like liquid gold against the soot, catching the light as it climbed.

When it reached the thicker part of the tree, Baembaem coiled itself tightly around the branch—then opened its mouth wide.

A heartbeat later, it sank its fangs into the lightning-scorched wood.

“Baembaem!”

Too late to stop it.

The creature that had always fed off Yegyeol’s transferred energy suddenly widened its eyes. Once pale-blue from the “Blue Phenomenon,” they blazed gold, then flickered back, shifting again and again.

A metallic, rippling sound filled the air—like dozens of marbles rolling across a silver tray. Or perhaps waves breaking softly on the shore. It was the sound of the Thousand-Year Thunder Serpent’s scales shifting.

Yegyeol’s hand twitched, unsure whether to interfere, but a firm hand pressed gently on his shoulder.

It won’t harm it, came Haryang’s voice, calm and steady, directly in his mind.

Yegyeol exhaled, relaxing. Haryang pulled him closer, away from the tree, wrapping an arm protectively around him. The sensation was soft—like being gathered into a cloud.

They retreated as far as the pavilion’s main structure, now little more than an empty frame. Setting Yegyeol on the window ledge, Haryang stood before him, poised to intervene at the slightest sign of danger.

Yegyeol placed a trembling hand on his back, eyes fixed on the scene before them.

Golden light began to seep from the cracks in the burned bark, trickling downward like liquid sunlight, retracing the path of the lightning that had once struck it.

It was dazzling—so bright it made his eyes water—but he couldn’t look away.

Baembaem rubbed its body against the trunk, climbing slowly upward.

For some reason, a myth he’d once heard came to mind—of a great world tree that held nine realms, and a serpent that devoured it from its roots to reach the heavens.

The Thunder Serpent shed its skin, scraping against the rough bark as though to ascend to the sky itself.

As it moved, the old dark scales sloughed off, revealing faintly iridescent ones beneath—opal-tinted and gleaming gold.

At this rate, it’s actually going to turn into a dragon and fly off…

He bit back a gasp and simply watched as the small creature struggled, inch by inch, to free itself from its old shell.

Finally, it emerged, stretching its body from head to tail. Yegyeol hurried forward.

“You did so well. Good job, Baembaem.”

The snake opened and closed its mouth, almost like a yawn. Smiling, Yegyeol brushed a finger over its nose.

Exhausted from clinging to the tree, Baembaem coiled back around his wrist. Its scales shimmered brilliantly, reflecting light like polished metal.

The shed skin clung to the bark behind it, dull on the outside but faintly luminescent within—like translucent pearl dust waiting to crumble at a touch.

“You scared me, you know? Next time, warn me before doing something like that, okay?”

Behind him, Haryang chuckled softly.

“Asking a serpent, even a spirit beast, to give notice in human tongue might be asking too much, don’t you think?”

“But… I swear, this one could learn to read if it wanted to,” Yegyeol countered.

Haryang gave a quiet, amused hum.

“I mean it! Remember in Hangzhou, when it stole that account book from Jakgwi?”

No one knew what sort of training Samrang had been giving it, but at this rate, Yegyeol wouldn’t be surprised if Baembaem learned how to pick locks next.

“It must’ve seen the tree and realized it was full of lightning energy. Probably thought it was the perfect chance to molt,” Haryang mused.

“I suppose so,” he added, smiling faintly. “Still, let it rest. It’s earned that much.”

As if agreeing, Baembaem nuzzled Yegyeol’s palm, its touch soft and ticklish. Yegyeol couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let’s see, my little beauty. What’s changed, hmm?”

Understanding, Baembaem playfully extended its tail.

Yegyeol spread his hand wide, running his palm along the sleek, golden scales. The tiny serpent shivered as though giggling, tail flicking side to side.

“You’ve grown longer, I think?”

Its small body gave a proud wriggle—amusing, given it had no shoulders to lift.

“Or maybe not?”

At that, Baembaem froze mid-motion, staring at him in disbelief. Yegyeol smoothed a finger over its head and added quickly,

“Just kidding. Look at this—your horns grew beautifully.”

The little nubs that once resembled kitten teeth had branched, like the antlers of a deer.

“You really do look like a dragon now.”

Watching the transformation, Yegyeol’s earlier thought returned—perhaps it truly will ascend someday.

“I wonder if it awakened any new powers. Maybe it can summon rain now?”

Baembaem merely blinked up at him, showing no signs of any “new feature” reveal.

“Maybe it needs whiskers first,” Haryang said in mock seriousness.

Yegyeol stifled a laugh, pretending to ponder it deeply. “True. Baembaem’s still too young for whiskers.”

And so they concluded that while the Thousand-Year Thunder Serpent had not yet become a Thousand-Year Thunder Dragon, it now brimmed with potential.

Having just finished molting, Baembaem coiled lazily around Yegyeol’s wrist, energy already fading as drowsiness set in.

“You’ve given me a rare sight today,” Haryang said softly. “A spirit shedding its skin.”

“Snakes shed whenever they grow. You’ll probably get to see it again a few more times,” Yegyeol replied.

He wondered if, next time, he’d need to charge the old tree again with lightning—or perhaps lend Baembaem his own energy directly.

Though if it really does turn into a dragon and fly off, I’d hate that, he thought.

He wanted Baembaem to grow strong, but the idea of it leaving stung. Yegyeol was greedy that way.

When he glanced up, he found Haryang smiling at him.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Nothing,” Haryang murmured, brushing his lips thoughtfully.

“You said you’d stay by my side, didn’t you?”

He paused, then added softly, “Spirit creatures live quite long, after all.”

Yegyeol blinked.

That was a fair interpretation—he’d meant he’d be there for Baembaem, of course. At least during its molts.

But why did Haryang look so pleased about it—especially when he’d surely never let him leave anyway?

“I just thought,” Haryang said quietly, “that it was a very nice thing to hear.”

He smiled shyly, the kind of smile that seemed to bloom only under moonlight—like a Moonlit Beauty flower that opened just once each night.

Even if that wasn’t what he’d meant at all, Yegyeol couldn’t bring himself to deny it.

He swallowed hard, suddenly flustered.

To be honest, he’d been planning to run away soon.