Chapter One: Marrying a Dragon Egg!
Thunder rumbled outside, and rain poured down in torrents.
Inside, an oil lamp flickered.
In the dim light, Yang Ye sat cross-legged on the bed, utterly undisturbed by the storm raging outside. The faint starlight of the world, guided by the cultivation technique, flowed into the sea of stars within his body.
Suddenly, the wooden door creaked open.
The wild wind swept in heavy moisture, snuffing out the oil lamp with a whoosh.
It was an old man who opened the door, holding a tobacco pipe in his hand, looking every bit like a seventy-year-old country farmer.
Seeing Yang Ye practicing on the bed, the old man grinned and said, “Boy, stop practicing. Go get married!”
Yang Ye, eyes closed, suddenly snapped them open wide.
He thought he’d misheard!
Yang Ye was only sixteen, still far from the legal age for marriage, and tonight was a stormy, thundering night—what kind of wedding was this?
A few years ago, Yang Ye’s master had mentioned something about this, saying he’d arranged an extraordinary bride for him. But as for her name, where she lived, how old she was—his master never revealed a thing.
Seeing Yang Ye’s bewilderment, the old man turned and said, “Put on new clothes and come to the ruined temple on the mountain top within a quarter of an hour. Miss the hour, and your bride will be gone!”
As his voice echoed in the room, the old man disappeared.
Yang Ye finally came to his senses, quickly changed into new clothes—a white shirt, black suit and trousers, white socks, and polished leather shoes.
He stood tall at one meter seventy-five, with a well-proportioned figure; dressed in a suit, he cut a striking, handsome figure.
Dressed and ready, Yang Ye stepped out of the house.
Through the howling wind and rain, Yang Ye moved swiftly. The starlight within his body shielded him from the deluge, not a drop touched him.
Soon, he reached the ruined temple atop the mountain, his feet untouched by mud.
It was an old temple dedicated to the mountain god, long abandoned and decaying.
Yet tonight, the temple was draped in red silk, two large red candles burning bright.
Besides Yang Ye’s country-farmer-like master, there were two others.
One was a stately elder with flowing white hair, dressed in white robes, a jade belt at his waist, exuding noble dignity.
The other was a young girl, about ten years old, dressed in red, her hair in pigtails, lively and lovely.
“Is this my bride? She’s young, but with those looks, she’ll surely grow into a beauty…” Yang Ye thought delightedly.
“But wait, what’s she holding in her arms?”
Yang Ye’s mind filled with questions when he saw the young girl in red cradling a giant egg, greenish-yellow and ostrich-sized.
“The hour has come. Let us begin,” the white-haired elder said, expressionless after briefly sizing up Yang Ye.
“First, bow to heaven and earth!”
As soon as the white-haired elder spoke, Yang Ye’s master began the ceremonial chant.
The girl in red, clutching the giant egg, turned to face the temple’s entrance.
Such an important event, yet so rushed?
Yang Ye hesitated, but quickly stepped to the girl’s side, and together, they bowed toward the temple door.
Thunder crashed.
No sooner had they straightened than a bolt of lightning struck near the temple, shattering a tall tree.
“Second, bow to the elders!”
As the thunder faded, Yang Ye’s master called out again.
Yang Ye and the girl in red turned, facing the emotionless white-haired elder and the smiling master, and bowed deeply.
Thunder roared once more, shattering a massive mountain stone nearby.
“Third, bow to each other as husband and wife!”
Unmoved by heaven’s display, Yang Ye’s master called out loudly.
Yang Ye and the girl in red stood facing each other.
This was the final bow.
As Yang Ye bent in salute, the girl in red did not bow. Instead, she lifted the egg.
Unaware, Yang Ye’s forehead touched the egg in her hands.
With a thud, Yang Ye felt dizzy, while the giant egg in the girl’s hands, as solid as stone, remained intact.
A third bolt of thunder struck, splintering an ancient pine at the temple gate.
Three bolts, like ceremonial salutes.
The ritual was completed. The white-haired elder, hands clasped behind his back, approached Yang Ye and said, “From this moment, you are my granddaughter’s husband. I will not treat you poorly.”
He raised a finger and tapped Yang Ye’s brow.
Yang Ye felt a faint energy emanate from the elder’s finger and enter his body.
But, when he focused to find it, the energy vanished without a trace.
The white-haired elder said, “My granddaughter is named Long Xiaoqing. Treat her well, understood?”
“Grandfather, rest assured, I will take good care of Xiaoqing,” Yang Ye said, winking at the girl in red with a smile.
The white-haired elder stroked his long white beard and nodded, then turned to Yang Ye’s master. “Old friend, I’ll give you three days. I’ll take my leave for now.”
“Very well!” Yang Ye’s master nodded.
The elder turned and walked out of the temple. The girl in red placed the giant egg in Yang Ye’s arms, followed the elder out, and before Yang Ye could react, both vanished into the rain.
“My goodness! Why did my bride leave?” Yang Ye exclaimed, his mind filled with the adorable image of the girl in red.
Though she was young, she was clearly destined to grow into a stunning beauty.
Thunder rumbled.
Yang Ye’s master stepped forward, holding back Yang Ye who was about to chase after them, and said with a smile, “Boy, don’t be mistaken. Your bride is right there in your arms!”
“Ah—” Yang Ye stared at the egg, dumbfounded.
...
Dawn broke.
Yang Ye awoke, still cradling the giant egg.
Looking at the egg in his arms, his expression was confused.
If not for the egg, he would have thought last night was just a dream.
Others bring home a bride, light the wedding candles, and enter the bridal chamber.
He, instead, brought home a dragon egg, and was now hatching it in bed!
Yes, the egg in his arms was a dragon egg!
Which meant, Yang Ye’s bride was a noble dragon maiden!
The girl in red from last night was merely a common carp spirit, nowhere near as exalted as his bride.
Unfortunately, his dragon maiden bride had not yet been born—he had to hatch her himself!
His master had told him last night that only Yang Ye, with his rare innate pure yang body, could hatch the dragon egg.
Sighing, Yang Ye tucked the dragon egg beneath his quilt and stepped outside for morning practice.
Now, besides Yang Ye, there was no one else on the mountain.
After returning last night, his master gave him some instructions before departing, saying this might be a final farewell.
Upon leaving, his master made Yang Ye swear not to leave the mountain until he had hatched the dragon egg.
Yang Ye would never break his oath.
After a day’s practice, Yang Ye ate dinner, then returned to his bed, holding the dragon egg, circulating the “Primordial Yang Formula” his master had taught him.
As starlight circulated within his body, warmth filled the quilt.
The dragon egg in his arms began to absorb the heat released by Yang Ye, and subtle changes began within the shell.
For two hours—four in total—Yang Ye kept at it, only stopping when fatigue set in, hugging the dragon egg as he drifted into deep sleep.
Though he spent half the night hatching the dragon egg, Yang Ye awoke the next morning full of energy, not the least bit tired.
In fact, the process had tempered him.
...
Day after day, two years passed in the blink of an eye.
A crisp crack sounded.
Yang Ye, just eighteen, suddenly heard it and woke from his sleep.