The Dragon of the Fallen Demon Master Sister in a Book - Chapter 29

The floral scent inside the bridal sedan was overwhelmingly strong, making Chris’s head spin. She couldn’t identify what kind of flower it was—inside and outside the sedan, petals carpeted the ground in a riot of colors: bright red, violet-gold, deep blue… so many hues it was almost dizzying.

The longer she stayed in the sedan, the more suffocated she felt, as if she could barely breathe.

Chris no longer cared about the awkwardness of making eye contact with the little flower and grass spirits outside the curtain. Her head was swimming, and if she didn’t get some fresh air soon, she might just become the first dragon in history to be asphyxiated by flower fragrance.

When she finally pushed aside the curtain with her claws, all she saw were flowers—an ocean of them, a world of blossoms.

She stuck her head out, her pupils dilating in shock. But it wasn’t just flowers. Though the ground was indeed covered in blooms, they seemed to have entered a kingdom of entwined vines and trees. The branches crisscrossed chaotically, the vines tangled and snaked wildly, and the leaves pressed tightly together, layer upon layer, blocking out the sunlight completely. Compared to the earlier sea of flowers, this sight was downright suffocating.

Chris froze. As the tree spirits played their instruments, the chaotic, intertwined vines and branches naturally parted to make way for them. When she glanced back, the path had already closed behind them, the vegetation sealing tightly once more. Panic set in—if she was taken to a place like this, even if she were killed and buried, no one would ever find her!!!

The dragon hatchling’s mind raced with dark imaginings. Why did these flowers and vines grow so lushly here? What was their source of nutrients? This place didn’t seem like it was frequented by living creatures. Could it be that every time these tree spirits brought back a “bride,” they dismembered her and buried the pieces in the soil to rot, becoming fertilizer for this flower field and tangled forest? Chris shivered, frightened by her own thoughts.

Just then, she turned her head and caught sight of a sharp branch. Had the vines somehow understood her thoughts and decided to punish her? The branch jutted out suddenly, needle-sharp—and her head was about to slam right into it!!! Damn it!!!

Chris yanked her head back inside just in time. Only now did she realize how fast the tree spirits carrying the sedan were moving. No, “walking” wasn’t the right word—they were running. They were sprinting while carrying the bridal sedan! This was the kingdom of tree spirits, their world!

Chris decided that rather than being impaled by a branch, she might as well burn this whole place down. Her gaze hardened, and she opened her maw, ready to unleash dragonfire—only for someone to grab her tail and yank her back into the sedan. The flames she’d been about to spew were swallowed back down, and the little dragon tumbled onto her back, landing with a thud. Above her loomed the exquisitely beautiful, almost otherworldly face of the Puppet Queen.

The queen suddenly stood up, as if saying something to her, then reached out and lifted the fallen hatchling into her arms. Chris shook her head weakly in protest, but her ears were ringing—she could barely hear a thing.

Her head was buzzing loudly, and it was so severe that she couldn’t make out what the tree spirits around her were saying. She didn’t know if it was due to the fright she had just experienced or from falling to the ground—perhaps the impact had given her a concussion. Otherwise, how could it be this bad?

The ringing in her ears grew worse, accompanied by an intense dizziness. After the vertigo came a strong wave of nausea. In an instant, Chris couldn’t tell whether she was just exhausted or completely dazed from the fall. Her consciousness was foggy, but her body instinctively resisted everything. The overwhelming floral scent—she finally pinpointed its source.

Chris opened her eyes, feeling weak all over. Her dragon pupils were wide open. The little puppet’s hands were cold, uncomfortably so, especially with the scent emanating from it. Unlike the fresh, clean fragrance of Feng Qingzhuo, the floral aroma from the puppet made the young dragon uneasy.

Now that she was being held in its arms, the discomfort was unbearable. But when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Chris couldn’t show her displeasure—how awkward. There was no choice but to endure it.

Chris stretched out a claw, gesturing to the puppet, hoping it would understand. After all, she, a dragon, was practically suffocating. She needed fresh air. But the puppet remained expressionless, cradling the dragon cub in its arms, its deep red eyes silently fixed on her. Its face was stiff, making it impossible for Chris to tell whether it had understood or not.

After exhausting her strength, Chris grew frustrated, her ears drooping. Since there was no reaction, it must not have understood. Resigned, she flopped backward, thinking, Fine, if I die, I die. No big deal. All dragons must die—I’m just dying a little earlier than most.

Ahhh, why do I have to die so young?! I’m only a few years old! I’ve barely lived in this world! In this era, so many people are looking for death, and getting a good reincarnation is so hard. What if I come back as some little flower, grass, chicken, or duck—stepped on or fattened up and stewed? That would be the worst luck!

Chris was nearly frantic. Summoning her last bit of strength, she flicked her tail, knocking the puppet’s hand away. Then, with a twist, she struggled free from its grip, spreading her wings in an attempt to fly out of the bridal sedan.

The dragon cub shook her head, trying desperately to stay alert. But the moment she poked her head out, the scene before her shifted again. Outside, there was nothing but thick fog. Her ears still rang, drowning out even the sounds of gongs and drums. All she saw was an endless white mist, the bright red sedan moving through it. Witnessing this, Chris felt as if she’d seen a ghost. Her heart finally sank completely.

There was no escape.

Chris knew her own limits. Without the guidance of her dragon soul, she couldn’t break free. Without its translation, she couldn’t even understand what these tree spirits were saying. All she could do was passively endure.

Chris felt her head spinning again. That intense floral scent seemed to have seeped into her very bones, clinging to her body. She wanted to flee, but the fragrance wouldn’t let her—she couldn’t shake it off or escape it. Chris grew drowsy, utterly exhausted. The young dragon hadn’t slept for so long, suffering from severe sleep deprivation. The rhythm of her wingbeats slowed, slower and slower still, until finally, Chris plummeted from the sky.

Then, she felt as if she’d been caught by a pair of icy hands. This time, she lacked the strength to resist. The overpowering floral scent tightly bound her. Chris closed her eyes, furrowed her brows, and fell into a deep slumber.

–

Chris felt as though she’d slept for an eternity. In her dreams, she was utterly drained—as if she hadn’t slept for centuries, or as if she’d been flapping her wings for days and nights on end. It was like she’d sneaked into a wine barrel, gotten drunk, and passed out all over again.

Then, Xia Weiqi realized she was having a nightmare, reliving the moment she’d been run over by a truck—back when she was still that naive and foolish college student. Her mother, face gaunt with grief, cradled her mangled corpse, weeping bitterly.

It was strange. Every part of this dream felt off.

Xia Weiqi thought to herself: she’d deliberately chosen a university in another province, only returning home during holidays. Even by plane, it took two to three hours. There was no way her mother could have arrived so quickly. And the police would never have left her body lying on the ground for that long.

It was strange. The dream’s logic was flawed, yet emotionally, Xia Weiqi resonated deeply with her weeping mother. She reached out, gently brushing away her mother’s tears.

Her voice was soft, tender: “Don’t worry about me anymore, Mom. Take care of yourself instead.”

–

Chris woke up.

The black dragonet opened her eyes to find herself still inside the crimson bridal sedan, now nestled among flowers and soft silks. Peering around, she saw the little wooden doll sitting rigidly beside her, still clad in that pure white gown. The doll held a water flask, offering it to Chris’s lips as if to help her drink.

Coincidentally, Chris was parched. The dragonet extended her claws, took the flask, and began gulping down the water in huge draughts.

She drank urgently, voraciously—never had she consumed water like this before, pouring it recklessly into her belly. The wooden doll sat watching, lips curled in a perpetually friendly smile. Your smile feels fake, and a bit creepy, Chris thought to herself.

The water from the little puppet was surprisingly delicious, carrying a subtle sweetness. Compared to the milk tea from her past life—which always left her feeling slightly nauseated by the last few sips, yet she still craved it—this water had no such drawback. It was refreshingly sweet, reminiscent of the mountain spring water she drank during childhood trips—never cloying, always thirst-quenching.

Before she knew it, the entire flask was empty, not a drop remaining. Chris reached out to return it, only for the puppet to bypass the flask entirely, refusing to take it.

Chris froze, awkwardly holding the flask aloft, her eyes widening as the puppet’s cool fingers brushed away the stray droplets she had missed.

Was the atmosphere… a little too intimate?

Fidgeting, she scooted further left, but the puppet merely maintained its habitual smile, finally accepting the flask and even nuzzling her paw in the process.

The underage dragon suddenly felt… unclean.

What she didn’t notice was how, after drinking the water, the lingering discomfort and exhaustion from her nightmare had completely vanished. From then on, her tinnitus and dizziness never returned.

Dazed, Chris turned away, lifting the curtain with her paw. The chime of glass beads followed, but this time, she knew better than to stick her head out. Yet… what she saw was even stranger—dragons.

To be precise, two dragon statues.

It was as if she had stumbled into a fairy tale. Everything around her was carved from wood, but the most striking were the two towering dragon sculptures.

On the left stood a majestic, pitch-black western dragon, wings spread, head bowed, silently watching the passing tree spirits. On the right coiled an eastern dragon woven entirely from vines.

Both loomed hundreds of feet tall, carved with lifelike precision—every scale, every whisker, even the scars on the western dragon’s hide were visible. The black dragon’s eyes were open, observing the tree spirits, while the vine dragon’s were shut, as if asleep. Yet its tendril-like whiskers swayed in the wind, breathing, as though it might awaken at any moment.

Chris stared up at them, transfixed, as the palanquin passed through the grand gate guarded by these twin sentinels. The moment they crossed the threshold, the music swelled around her, and she realized—her tinnitus, headaches, dizziness… every debuff had vanished without a trace.

Before she could process it, tree spirits poured from within, surrounding the palanquin. They clutched flowers and basins, tossing petals into the air and sprinkling water on one another, singing melodies Chris couldn’t understand.

Then… Chris saw more wooden carvings, mostly depicting Western dragons—a little black dragon peeking out of its eggshell with a bewildered expression, another devouring its eggshell, and yet another learning to fly… The baby black dragons were carved with such adorable charm, and these wooden figurines were polished to perfection, not a speck of dust on them…

Chris stood dumbfounded as the palanquin stopped beneath a towering giant tree. In a daze, she was carried down by the tree spirits. Standing before the colossal tree, Chris realized her true size couldn’t even compare to a single claw of that pure black dragon she’d seen earlier… She lifted a tiny paw, feeling utterly insignificant.

The dragonling glanced around at the tree spirits… wondering if they might be worshippers of that black dragon.

And what about her—what role should she, a black dragon hatchling, play here?

The little wooden puppet stood beside Chris, wearing a crown and holding a scepter. Chris felt uneasy standing next to her. The puppet raised her scepter and seemed to address the tree spirits, though Chris couldn’t understand the words—only sensing the commanding presence in her speech.

When the puppet finished speaking, the surrounding tree spirits fell to their knees in waves, prostrating before Chris… Even the flower and grass spirits she’d fought earlier knelt down, pressing their faces deep into the earth.

Chris could no longer distinguish them, as all the tree spirits appeared identical to her—tall figures in bluish-gray hues, many with flowers or grass atop their heads… They all looked exactly alike.

Surrounded by the tree spirits, Chris turned her head to find only the wooden puppet still standing.

But then… the puppet spoke to Chris before kneeling on one knee. Bewildered, Chris watched as the puppet removed her own crown and placed it upon the dragonling’s head.

Then… the puppet bowed her head and, while kneeling, draped a mantle over Chris’s shoulders. Finally, she handed over the scepter—the apparent symbol of authority—to the underage dragon…

Chris fell silent.

She raised the scepter with her claw, and instantly, all responded to her call. It seemed… she was about to become the new ruler here.