Panlong's Worton

Walton knew something bad was going to happen today.

He couldn't recall the exact time, but that autumn, Wushan Town would welcome two uninvited guests—a level seven magical beast, a velociraptor, and a mage of at least level seven. He remembered this description vividly from the original work, because it was Linley's first time witnessing high-level power, and a turning point that solidified his decision to become a mage.

Wharton ate breakfast very slowly, listening intently to the sounds outside.

Linley had already gone to training. Hogg was checking the accounts in the study, and Ciri was tidying up in the kitchen. Everything was as peaceful as usual.

Walton swallowed the last bite of bread, jumped off the chair, and said, "Grandpa Ciri, I'm going to play in the yard."

"Don't go too far," Ciri said without looking up.

Wharton didn't go to the backyard. He climbed onto the low cabinet by the living room window and peered out. The streets were deserted, with only a few townspeople walking by occasionally. The sun was shining brightly, turning the cobblestones white.

He waited for about an hour.

Then the ground started to shake.

It was very faint, first like muffled drumming in the distance, then it became clearer, and the window frame started to rattle. The sound of dishes clattering came from the kitchen. Ciri called out, "What's going on?"

Walton slid down from the low cabinet and ran to the door.

The townspeople on the street all stopped and looked at each other in bewilderment. Some squatted down and touched the ground with their hands, their faces changing.

The tremors intensified. Now one could hear footsteps, heavy and slow, each step causing the house to shudder. In the distance came the cries of a child and the barking of a dog.

Ciri rushed out and picked up Walton: "Earthquake? No, this noise—"

Before he could finish speaking, the figure appeared at the east street corner.

First its head, then its neck, then its entire body. Two stories high, twenty or thirty meters long, its fiery red scales were dazzling in the sunlight. Every step it took shook the earth, and when its tail swept across, clotheslines along the roadside collapsed with a crash.

Velociraptor.

Wharton had seen pictures in books, but seeing it in person was a completely different story. The oppressive feeling was three-dimensional, not just visual, but also auditory, vibrational, and even the faint smell of sulfur in the air. A person sat on the dragon's back, draped in a purple robe, his face obscured.

The street erupted in chaos. Some screamed and ran into houses, while others stood frozen in place. Ciri, carrying Walton, retreated across the threshold, her hands trembling: "A level seven magical beast... how could it be here..."

The velociraptor didn't stop and headed straight for the town center. Wherever it passed, chaos ensued.

Hogg burst out of the study, pen still clutched in his hand: "What happened?"

"Master, it's a velociraptor, and there's a magician on its back." Ciri's voice was strained.

Hogg's expression changed, and he strode to the door, glancing at the door before turning back: "Ciri, take Wharton to the cellar. I'm going to find Linley."

"Master, it's too dangerous—"

"Go quickly!" Hogg had already rushed out.

Ciri gritted his teeth, picked up Walton, and ran to the backyard. The cellar entrance was behind the kitchen, where they usually stored winter vegetables. He lifted the wooden plank and put Walton down: "Young master, stay here. Don't come out no matter what you hear."

"Grandpa Ciri, where are you going?" Wharton grabbed his sleeve.

"I'll go help." Ciri forced a smile. "Be good."

The wooden planks were on. The cellar was pitch black, with only a few slivers of light seeping through the cracks. Walton sat on the potato sack and could hear the chaotic footsteps, shouts, and increasingly heavy footsteps outside.

He knew what was going to happen next. The mage would encounter a mercenary squad in the center of town, and the two sides would fight over something called the "Depero Shadow Diamond." The battle would engulf the entire town, resulting in many deaths.

Should he do something?

At two and a half years old, he couldn't even open the cellar lid. Even if he got out, what could he do? Tell the adults to run? Who would believe a child?

Walton clenched his fist. His nails dug into his palm, and it hurt a little.

Explosions came from outside. Not just one, but a series of muffled thuds mixed with the crashing sound of collapsing bricks and stones. Ash was falling from the cellar ceiling.

Then came the screams of people.

Short, harsh, like a chicken's neck that has been snapped.

Walton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In his past life, he was a programmer; the bloodiest scenes were nothing more than movie special effects. Now, these sounds were real, and those people were dying.

Another loud bang, this time much closer, shook the entire cellar. The light through the cracks in the wooden planks dimmed for a moment, and a shadow flashed by.

Wharton stood up and tiptoed to push the cellar lid. It wouldn't budge; something was holding it down. He pounded on the wooden plank: "Is anyone there? Grandpa Ciri?"

There was no response. Only the distant roar and the nearby crashing sound of falling bricks and tiles.

He didn't know how long he had been in the cellar. His sense of time became blurred in the darkness and noise. Until it gradually quieted down outside, leaving only the sporadic crackling of the fire and faint sobs.

Walton pounded the wooden board again: "Is anyone there?"

This time there was movement. The wooden plank was moved aside, and blinding light shone in. Ciri's face appeared at the entrance of the cave, half of it covered in dust, and her clothes were torn.

"Young Master Walton!" He reached out and lifted Walton out of the room. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing." Walton shook his head, squinting as the light stung his eyes. "Outside..."

The words were stuck in my throat.

The backyard was ruined. A wall had collapsed, bricks and stones scattered all over the ground. In the distance, the old houses were belching black smoke, and the sky was stained a dirty, grayish-yellow. The air smelled of burning and another, more pungent odor—like overcooked meat.

Ciri carried him forward, around a pile of rubble. The front yard was in even worse shape: the front door was gone, the frame hanging askew, the living room windows were all shattered, shards of glass glistening on the ground. The street was littered with stones, some as tall as a person, others the size of a fist. Several houses were on fire, no one was putting them out, and townspeople gathered in an open space, some weeping, some staring blankly.

Hogg stood in the doorway, his back to them, his shoulders tense.

"Father," Walton called out.

Hogg turned around. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were bloodshot. He walked over, took Wharton from Ciri, and hugged him tightly.

"Where's Linley?" Walton asked.

"They're over at the training ground, with Hillman," Hogg said in a hoarse voice. "They're fine."

Wharton breathed a sigh of relief. In the original story, Linley was indeed not injured, but he was greatly shocked.

"How many people died?" Ciri asked in a low voice.

Hogg shook his head: "I haven't counted them yet. At least several dozen."

The sound of horses' hooves came from afar; it was the town mayor leading several people to check the situation. Some people were carrying a door panel as a stretcher, covered with a cloth, and a human figure was protruding from under the cloth.

Wharton buried his face in Hogg's shoulder. From this angle, he could see the bulging veins on the side of his father's neck.

On the training field, Linley's condition was even worse than Walton had anticipated.

When Wharton was carried to Hogg, he saw Linley sitting on a rock, pale-faced, his eyes fixed on the ground. Hillman was crouching beside him, his hand on Wharton's shoulder, whispering something.

"Linley." Hogg put Wharton down and walked over.

Lin Lei raised his head, his eyes somewhat unfocused, and it took him several seconds to focus: "Father."

"Are you hurt?"

"No," Linley shook his head, his voice very soft, "It's just... I saw..."

He couldn't continue.

Hillman said for him, "When the magician and the mercenaries started fighting, Linley was watching nearby. The scene..." He paused, "...was too exciting for the kids."

Hogg frowned: "How can you let him see it?"

"I tried to stop him, but I couldn't," Hillman said with a wry smile. "He ran over there himself."

Hogg was silent for a moment, then squatted down to look Linley in the eye: "What did you see? Tell me."

Lin Lei opened his mouth, then closed it again. After a long while, he said haltingly, "Fire... a huge fire, like a snake... it wrapped people up in it, and in an instant... and that warrior, he was caught in the dragon's tail, stuffed into his mouth... and chewed up..."

His description was fragmented, but enough to piece together a picture. Hogg listened, his expression growing increasingly grim.

"That's the eighth-level spell 'Dance of the Fire Serpents'," Hogg said. "That mage is at least an eighth-level mage."

"Level eight?" Linley murmured repeatedly, "Even more powerful than Uncle Hillman?"

"Much more powerful." Hogg stood up. "A level six warrior is no different from an infant in front of an level eight mage."

Lin Lei fell silent, looking down at his hands. His fingers were trembling slightly.

Wharton walked over and sat down next to him. Linley didn't react, still staring at the ground.

"Brother," Walton called him softly.

Linley turned his face away, his eyes still empty. Wharton reached out and took his hand—it was cold and covered in sweat.

"Are you scared?" Walton asked.

Lin Lei nodded, then shook his head: "I'm afraid... but... I can't quite explain it."

Hogg glanced at them and said to Hillman, "You take some men to help with the cleanup and tally the casualties. I'll take the children back."

The road home was a mess. There were pebbles, broken pieces of wood, charred rags, and several blackish-red stains. The townspeople were cleaning up the mess; no one spoke, only the rustling of things being moved and the occasional suppressed sob.

Linley remained silent. Once inside, Hogg told him to wash his face, which he mechanically did.

Dinner was simple, and no one had an appetite. Hogg took a couple of bites, put down his knife and fork, and looked at Linley: "What are your thoughts on what happened today?"

Linley looked up: "That mage... is very strong."

"Anything else?"

"I think..." Linley hesitated for a moment, "If I could be that strong, could I protect Wushan Town?"

Hogg didn't answer immediately. He looked at Linley for a moment, then at Wharton, before speaking, "Do you know the difference between a mage and a warrior?"

Lin Lei shook his head.

"Magicians absorb the elements of heaven and earth and refine them into magical power. Warriors also absorb elements and refine them into battle aura. They are essentially from the same source, only their methods of application differ," Hogg said. "But because magicians have a larger attack range and greater destructive power, their status is higher than that of warriors of the same level. Even a king would treat an eighth-level magician with respect."

Linley's eyes brightened slightly: "Is that magician's body very weak? I saw that person jump off the dragon's back very easily."

"It's not that they're weak, it's that they're relatively weak," Hogg explained. "An eighth-level mage's body might be equivalent to a third-level warrior. But compared to an eighth-level warrior, that's a weakness. So they either use magic shields for defense or subdue magical beasts to protect themselves."

"Taming magical beasts?" Linley sat up straight. "How do I do that?"

"Two conditions." Hogg held up two fingers. "First, make the magical beast willingly submit—usually you have to defeat it. Second, bind it with a 'Soul Contract Magic Circle'—either you are a level seven or higher mage who can set up the circle, or you spend money to buy a 'Soul Contract Scroll,' which costs ten thousand gold coins."

Lin Lei was stunned: "Ten thousand gold coins?"

"And they're still priceless," Hogg said. "So those who can subdue high-level magical beasts are either powerful magicians or extremely wealthy."

Lin Lei fell silent, clearly processing the information.

Wharton listened quietly. He recognized the conversation—in the original story, Hogg had explained the wizarding system to Linley after this incident and suggested he take the magic test. But this time, some details were different.

"Father," Walton suddenly spoke, "our family are Dragonblood Warriors, aren't we?"

Hogg and Hogg both looked at him. Linley was somewhat surprised: "Walton, you know about Dragonblood Warriors?"

"Grandpa Ciri told me about it in his stories," Walton lied without batting an eye. "He said our family was very powerful a long time ago, able to transform into dragon-like warriors."

Hogg's eyes were complicated: "Yes. But that was a long time ago. Now... the bloodline has faded."

"And what about me?" Walton asked. "Do I have that bloodline too?"

"Yes," Hogg nodded. "Everyone in the Baruch family has it, just at different concentrations. Only those with higher concentrations have the potential to awaken as Dragonblood Warriors."

How do I know if the concentration is high or low?

"After age six, we used the 'Dragon's Blood Needle' test," Hogg said. "Your brother has been tested, and the concentration wasn't high enough."

Lin Lei lowered his head, his fingers clenching the hem of his clothes.

"Will I need to be tested when I'm six?" Walton continued to ask.

"Yes," Hogg said, looking at him, "but don't get your hopes up too high. The family hasn't produced a Dragonblood Warrior in over a thousand years."

Wharton nodded and asked no more questions.

He knew his concentration was up to standard. In the original story, Riwalton was one of the Dragonblood Warriors who awakened in this generation, though later than Linley, his potential was no less. Now that he had transmigrated into his body, he had to walk this path.

But the path of a magician... he was also considering it.

Dual cultivation isn't impossible, but time and energy are limited. Moreover, the cultivation of a Dragonblood Warrior already requires a lot of time, and adding magic on top of that might result in losing out on both.

After dinner, Hogg went to his study to handle some follow-up matters. Linley and Wharton sat in front of the fireplace in the living room, the firelight casting flickering shadows on their faces.

"Walton," Linley suddenly said, "do you think I'd be better off as a warrior or a mage?"

Wharton thought for a moment: "Can't I be both?"

Lin Lei smiled wryly: "Father said that our family's bloodline rejects other martial arts manuals and can only practice the Dragon Blood Manual. But that requires a high enough bloodline concentration... I don't have enough."

"What if that's enough?"

"If it's enough..." Linley's gaze drifted into the distance, "it should be very powerful. Father said that Great-Grandpa reached the seventh level of warrior level solely through physical training. If he had battle qi, he might be even stronger."

"What about magic?"

"Magic..." Linley took a deep breath. "Did you see that Fire Serpent Dance today? No, you felt it, didn't you? That power... could burn everything to ashes."

His tone contained both fear and longing.

"I want to learn," Linley said softly. "I want to try. My father said there will be a magic test in Fenlai City in late autumn, and I want to go."

Walton looked at him: "What if the test shows no talent?"

"Then come back and keep training," Lin Lei said. "But you have to give it a try."

The firewood in the fireplace crackled.

Wharton moved closer to his brother. Linley smelled of sweat and dust, but he seemed reassuring.

"I'll go with you," Walton said.

Lin Lei laughed and ruffled his hair: "You're still young. Maybe you can get it when you grow up."

"Hmm." Walton nodded.

He knew he likely possessed magical talent—the Baruch family had a history of producing magicians, proving that the bloodline was not incompatible. Moreover, the soul and mental strength of a transmigrator should be stronger than that of their peers.

But the test won't be done until age six. That's three and a half years away.

Over the next three and a half years, Linley will go to Ernst Academy to begin his journey as a mage. As for himself... he'll have to stay in Wushan Town and solidify his foundation as a Dragonblood Warrior.

"Brother," Walton said again, "you'll be great whether you're a warrior or a mage."

Linley looked at him, his eyes softening: "You too, Walton. You will be the strongest warrior of the Baruch family."

"Um."

The two brothers remained silent, watching the fire in the stove.

Outside the window, for the first time, the town of Wushan was dark. A few ruins still glowed red with embers, like stars on the ground. The area in the center of town where the battle had taken place had been cordoned off with hemp rope and wouldn't be cleared until tomorrow.

When Hogg came out of the study, he saw the two children sleeping, nestled together. He gently picked up Wharton and patted Linley, saying, "Go back to your room and sleep."

Lin Lei stood up groggily and followed them upstairs.

Walton was awake for a moment as he was being put to bed. In the darkness, he saw Hogg standing by the bed, watching him for a while before quietly closing the door and leaving.

He closed his eyes again, his consciousness sinking into that familiar area.

The panel was still there. Today had been too chaotic; he hadn't had a chance to check it. Now that things had calmed down, he noticed a few new records:

[Psychological Shock: Witnessing Large-Scale Battle and Death for the First Time]

[Effect: Increases awareness of crisis and increases thirst for power by 7%]

[Tip: Moderate pressure can be transformed into a driving force for growth]

[Environmental Observation: High-level magic "Dance of the Fire Serpents" (Long-range perception)]

[Proficiency: 0.003%]

[Effect: Initial perception of the fire element's berserk form]

[Note: Insufficient elemental affinity prevents in-depth analysis]

[Bloodline Induction: The Dragonblood Warrior's bloodline is slightly restless]

[Effects: Increases body's metabolic rate by 12%, enhances recovery ability]

[Tip: Strong emotional stimuli may trigger latent traits]

The last one made Walton's heart skip a beat.

Is it the restlessness in my blood? Is it because of the sense of crisis I feel today? Or is it because I witnessed a higher level of power, and a subconscious desire to fight against it arose within me?

He carefully examined his body—indeed, the muscle soreness subsided faster than usual, and the small bruises from his escape during the day were almost invisible. Very subtle changes, but the panel didn't lie.

If strong emotions can stimulate bloodline properties... then can we actively create such stimulation in the future?

No, that's too dangerous. A two-and-a-half-year-old's body could be overwhelmed by too much stimulation.

We must proceed step by step.

Walton rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.

Many people died today. The mercenaries, and the townspeople caught in the crossfire. He knew this was the original plot, knew these people were destined to die, but witnessing it firsthand was still different.

In his previous life, he lived in a peaceful era, and the greatest life-or-death situations he faced were his ancestors' funerals. Now, death looms before him, accompanied by the smell of blood and burning.

You must become stronger.