The Cornflower Witch

The situation really took a sharp turn.

When Sylutia arrived at the scene, what she saw were several masters scattering in disarray, dodging attacks from the plesiosaur-like dragon circling above.

Because it was difficult to lock onto the dragon through the accumulated rain clouds, even when they projected sacred spears, they could hardly land a hit. Losing this strongest attack method, their other spells proved ineffective against the giant dragon, failing to pose any real threat.

The plesiosaur-like dragon weaved through the storm—a tempest it had created using lake water and rain clouds. The spreading power of its ‘Dragon Eye: Snail Fish’ had turned the originally weak clouds and rain exceptionally violent. Raindrops, driven by the wind, could easily pierce paper and fragile flowers and leaves. Wherever the wind and rain passed, broken blades of grass swirled up from the ground like a frenzied flock of crows.

The humiliation of being restrained and bled earlier was seared into the dragon’s memory. Now, its accumulated rage erupted in full force. From high above, it let out a spreading draconic roar. Wherever the sound reached, lightning flashed and thunderbolts exploded within the clouds and rain.

Even if it couldn’t precisely control these lightning strikes, the sheer menace they created made several masters falter, abandoning any plan to enter the rain clouds to locate the dragon’s exact position.

At this moment, the mages’ weakness in close combat and physical frailty became glaringly apparent.

If there were a Sixth-Tier master swordsman or a warrior with awakened bloodlines on site, they could hand over the projected dragon-slaying sacred spear to such a person, who would physically withstand the lightning, charge into the rain clouds above, and make the plesiosaur-like dragon fearfully retreat from such arrogance.

But unfortunately, the mages could at best summon Sixth-Tier otherworldly creatures. These beings, once summoned, often couldn’t perform at full capacity and lacked the refined adaptability of intelligent beings like humans, making it difficult for them to execute the plans the mages envisioned.

The combined absolute strength of several masters was indeed greater than the plesiosaur-like dragon’s, but under unfavorable class composition and disadvantaged conditions, they suffered repeated defeats, with the possibility of casualties looming.

In the wind and rain, Sylutia lightly shielded her forehead with her hand as an invisible barrier formed before her, blocking the fierce rain and the flying branches and leaves. Her gaze pierced through the dark, chaotic environment, searching for traces of the masters. Azure draconic flame breath streaked across the sky from time to time, grazing past the masters’ flight paths or occasionally landing a direct hit, where various protective and defensive lights flickered.

This doesn’t look good, Sylutia thought to herself.

She wondered how long the masters could hold out. Mages often weren’t fast fliers, and the plesiosaur-like dragon’s innate advantage allowed it to swiftly roam through the clouds and rain. Even if the masters wanted to flee, they couldn’t easily shake it off.

If they split up, perhaps several could quickly escape to safety, but the one left behind would be in dire straits—isolated and without support, likely meeting the same fate as Master Cedric, who had sacrificed himself earlier.

After all, these were renowned figures of the Alliance. Despite the danger, the masters didn’t immediately abandon their comrades. Instead, they covered each other, occasionally using spells to counterattack and draw the dragon’s attention, preventing it from targeting any single person persistently.

But how much longer could this situation hold? Even if they sent a signal, reinforcements would likely take half a day to arrive. Though the Alliance had many masters and sages, they were spread far and wide, and it was hard to find anyone strong enough nearby.

While the masters’ flight speed was insufficient, Sylutia’s speed was more than adequate. If she went all out, even this plesiosaur-like dragon couldn’t catch up. In other words, if she could buy some time for the masters to escape first and then break away herself, the current difficult situation could be resolved.

But the most dangerous part of this plan was how she would keep the dragon occupied. Even if the creature wasn’t at full strength, it was still terrifyingly powerful. Its fierce draconic flame breath, infused with the domineering force of ‘Dragon Eye,’ was hard to resist with ordinary spells and defensive measures.

Wait, it seemed she wasn’t entirely without a means of defense. Sylutia suddenly recalled the dragon scale gifted to her by the Fiend Dragon Berserker back at the Hidden Grove Alliance. With that scale, she should be able to withstand the dragon’s breath, especially since the plesiosaur-like dragon wasn’t at its peak.

Taking a deep breath, Sylutia began to act.

First, instead of charging into the raging storm and rain, she used her orb to contact Master Hiden and explained her plan and thoughts.

Under normal circumstances, with his pride and strength, Master Hiden would never accept such a proposal. But the situation was different now, and he knew that if things continued, someone would be seriously injured or killed.

Every master was a precious talent of the Alliance, the pillars of this vast system. Each was a core figure in the frontier research of their respective schools. Losing any one of them would be an enormous loss. Moreover, Master Hiden was leading this operation to defeat and capture the dragon, and it was his responsibility to bring everyone back safely.

But was Sylutia, this junior, any less important? Based on her performance so far, barring any accidents, it was only a matter of time before this girl became a master-level figure of the Alliance. Furthermore, she practiced the ‘Astronomical Clock Chapter Page’ and could be considered a direct disciple of His Excellency. Once she stepped into the Fifth Tier in a few years, she would formally become His Excellency’s apprentice, and entering the Alliance’s decision-making core was almost inevitable.

Struggling with a difficult choice in his mind, Master Hiden knew that if he hesitated now, he’d lose both. Persisting would inevitably lead to a master’s death, while letting Sylutia take the risk offered at least some chance of successful escape.

“I understand. But before executing the plan, I’ll have the other masters give you some life-saving measures.” He quickly approved Sylutia’s proposal.

Then, in the sky, Master Welsa cast a spell. A resplendent ice ring bloomed in the torrential rain, spreading layers of cold that froze the raindrops into a canopy of ice crystals. These crystals spun and connected, forming blooming ice flowers.

The ice flowers drifted in the storm, refracting the lightning’s flashes and interfering with the dragon’s line of sight and lock-on.

Seizing this precious moment of respite, Master Hiden quickly contacted the other masters to inform them of the plan. At this point, hesitation would only waste the hard-earned opportunity, so they could only nod in agreement.

Soon after, another wave of thunder exploded within the storm, the sound carrying a draconic roar that shattered the ice crystals into fine icy powder.

Master Hiden summoned several ‘Astral Travelers’—creatures resembling shield-skinned fish with sturdy skulls and jaws, long tails and four fins on their front halves, capable of roaming the Astral Plane. Their bodies were covered in hard bones, providing excellent defense and rich nutrition; they were among the bottom-tier lifeforms of the Astral Plane.

Several dozens of meters-long, Fifth-Tier ‘Astral Travelers’ flew into the rain clouds. Their sturdy shield-skin and bones allowed them to withstand lightning strikes for a while.

Though these creatures couldn’t defeat the plesiosaur-like dragon, they distracted its attention, reducing the frequency of its attacks on the masters below.

During this time, Master Ge Zhen rendezvoused with Sylutia in the air and handed her a special purple-silver metal orb.

【Mystic Violet Soul Orb】(Sixth Tier: Rare): A personally crafted orb by Master Ge Zhen, containing three sealed Sixth-Tier specters. These can be briefly commanded or used to deploy a barrier via the orb.

“This orb should withstand two blasts of the plesiosaur-like dragon’s breath.” After quickly explaining, he flew away from Sylutia and waved his staff. Shadowy crimson spear projections appeared beside him and flew toward the clouds. Though difficult to lock onto the dragon, the spears’ aura forced the creature to take notice.

Afterward, Master Ein, Master Welsa, and others each gave Sylutia some items for self-preservation. The masters then agreed to launch a combined spell attack at the briefly visible dragon in the sky before swiftly scattering in different directions.

If the dragon didn’t give chase at this point, everyone would escape safely. If it relentlessly pursued one master, Sylutia would briefly draw its attention.

Facing the scattering masters, the dragon roared again within the storm, but the roar only briefly slowed their flight speeds before they quickly recovered and continued dispersing.

The dragon couldn’t detain everyone. It followed the nearest aura, chasing the slowest master. Seeing this, Sylutia flipped her body, her wings suddenly accelerating as she soared through the storm. She steadied her mind, recalling the secret technique she’d learned earlier, and began to cast.

A pale green seed materialized before her, rapidly sprouting and growing. Within seconds, entwining branches and vines gave way to blooming white-green buds. A silver, sacred blade emerged like a stamen from the flower.

Holding the branch beneath the bud, the vines twisted together, forming a sturdy, smooth, and polished hilt. The blade lengthened, surrounded by strange, pale silver ripples.

【Projection Spell: Tuchittika】:Reveals a fraction of the ‘Blooming Thorn Sacred Sword: Tuchittika’’s power. Though not as potent as the original, it deals special bonus damage against dragons. (Dragon Scale Armor Piercing +8, Dragon Might Ignore +3, Devouring Dragon Curse +4)

This was a sacred sword blooming from a flower. At the junction of hilt and blade, clusters of orange-red, pure white, bright yellow, and emerald-green flowers of various sizes gathered. The blade was silver as snow, and upon closer inspection, it bore intertwined vine-like patterns, delicately depicting scenes of fairies playing and a hundred flowers in full bloom.

When this sacred sword appeared, it was like a tiny candle flame lighting up in the storm, calming and isolating the violent raindrops around it. The fierce draconic might, upon touching it, strangely parted as if passing by, not affecting the figure gripping the sword at all.

The young girl took a deep breath, gripping the hilt with both hands. The flower stamens at the junction emitted a faint golden glow, illuminating her cheeks in the darkness. A few specks drifted into the night wind and rain.

Through the layers of clouds and the storm, the plesiosaur-like dragon noticed the faint ‘candle flame’ below. Its aura was exceptionally pure, as if from a fairy realm far from this world, isolating the fierce power carried in the draconic might. The blade, resembling a narrow stamen, seemed minuscule compared to the dragon’s massive body, but the aura it emitted stirred a certain wariness from within its bloodline.

There was no mistake—this was a legendary weapon forged by the Upper-tier Fairies of the previous epoch, a sacred sword specifically designed to target dragons.

Dragons and fairies had fought numerous wars, from the late Fifth Epoch to the devastating Calamity War of the Eighth Epoch. Though there had been periods of truce and joint resistance against common enemies, the two were the most powerful forces in this world, and conflict was nearly inevitable.

It wasn’t until the Ninth Epoch, the arrival of the Covenant Epoch, that this strife was temporarily halted, ushering in a state of renewed cooperation.

Facing this sacred sword, the plesiosaur-like dragon’s attention was completely captured. It no longer cared about the escaping masters, focusing its jade-like dragon eyes on the figure amidst the storm.

It recognized the girl as the one who had played the flute on the train earlier. While the plesiosaur-like dragon harbored some fondness for the beautiful melody—having soothed its turbulent emotions and nearly shattered life force at the time—that didn’t mean it would simply let things go.

Dragons were naturally proud. Forgiving the masters who had harmed it was no easy matter, not even for this girl.

The plesiosaur-like dragon gathered power once more, then shot out an azure stream of breath, tearing through the rain clouds and briefly lighting up the night sky.

A pale purple membrane barrier materialized before the girl, with specters drifting across its surface, dispersing the power of the dragon’s breath. Amid the fierce, high-temperature flames, Sylutia beat her wings and surged into the wind and rain. She didn’t immediately fly toward the dragon but instead wove through the air, accelerating constantly. Her figure was like a swift swallow cutting through the storm, agile and exceptionally fast.

Soon, the dragon’s attention was completely drawn to her. It chased her through the storm, occasionally spitting azure flame breath, tracing straight lines across the sky. Unfortunately, given her agile flight path, these attacks rarely hit, at most grazing the defensive barriers at her side.

Time ticked by. Two minutes later, the masters had safely escaped, leaving only the tiny darting figure and the storm-wielding dragon in the tempest.

Realizing the mission was complete, Sylutia’s anxious heart relaxed, and she finally had the spare thought to consider what came next.

Should she just accelerate and break away? The dragon might continue chasing, causing destruction to the areas along the way. Even if she escaped, what if the dragon vented its fury on ordinary human settlements nearby?

If she had no means to deal with it, leaving like this would be understandable—her abilities were limited, and she couldn’t cover every possible outcome. But now, she happened to have just enough ability to influence and interfere with this dragon.

It would be great if she could negotiate a truce, Sylutia thought, but it seemed unlikely. Why would the plesiosaur-like dragon listen to her ideas and thoughts?

Or perhaps, she could make it retreat in the face of difficulty?

In mid-flight, she spun around, no longer circling endlessly but abruptly accelerating, charging into the rain clouds high above.

At that moment, lightning exploded, some of it grazing Sylutia. Even with the treasures given by the masters for defense, she felt her body go numb and nearly fell.

Fortunately, this didn’t last, as the plesiosaur-like dragon didn’t truly control lightning—it only used its Aspect’s alignment to trigger latent lightning within the rain clouds.

The tiny human that had been darting below suddenly closed in. Startled, the dragon grew serious. It accelerated as well, its four fin-like limbs paddling, moving swiftly through the rain clouds, making it difficult for Sylutia to approach. Lightning struck around her, followed by bursts of azure flame breath.

At this close range, the attacks left little reaction time for Sylutia. But the proximity also allowed her to observe the dragon’s frequently appearing body. By paying attention to the direction of its head, she could predict the trajectory of its breath.

Man and dragon weaved through the air. As she grew familiar with the dragon’s attack rhythm and breath frequency, Sylutia felt the pressure ease. She could even judge when the dragon was about to breathe or accelerate by monitoring its heartbeat and blood circulation rate.

Though the gap in power levels was immense, as long as the attacks missed, even the strongest ones were meaningless.

Having grasped the dragon’s attack rhythm and methods, Sylutia attempted her first counterattack. During a weak period after one of the dragon’s breath attacks, she suddenly accelerated, her figure like a shooting star flying in reverse. The sacred sword in her hand erupted with dazzling light. In that instant, the plesiosaur-like dragon felt a hint of fear.

Fortunately, the sacred sword wasn’t aimed at the dragon’s vital points. It only left a long gash across the back of its body. Wherever the wound was cut, pure white flowers bloomed and grew in the flesh and blood. These sacred petals emitted faint golden firefly light in the night, while roots beneath them burrowed into the dragon’s flesh and blood.

Normally, a single roar from the dragon, carrying its fierce might, would shatter such fragile spells and flowers. But this time was different. Even as the draconic roar echoed through the sky, the white flowers in the storm remained unaffected, as if isolated in another world.

As a dragon-slaying sword specifically crafted against dragons, the fairies had naturally considered all possibilities. It wouldn’t be so easy for the plesiosaur-like dragon to shake off the curse from the blade’s wound.

Flowers stacked and bloomed across the dragon’s body. Its already weakened form grew even more feeble as blood was drained. The breath that once came every twenty seconds now couldn’t be mustered even in a minute. Not only that, its swimming speed slowed, and a weak, aching soreness spread through its body.

The plesiosaur-like dragon once again felt the terror of approaching death. Its momentum waned.

The storm that had swept across sky and earth softened into a gentle, fine drizzle. The lightning bursting in the clouds gradually ceased. The dragon’s swimming grew slower and slower.

Finally, at some point, it came to a complete stop, letting out a mournful draconic roar, as if already foreseeing its own death.

Sylutia also stopped, hovering above the dragon, ensuring it would have to lift its neck to attack, giving her enough time to react.

She sensed that the flower curse left by the sacred sword had gradually spread throughout the dragon’s body. In a little while longer, this giant dragon would surely die.

Huh? Did she just win like this?

To be honest, Sylutia had never expected this outcome. She had only wanted to buy time so the masters wouldn’t die here.

But for some reason, using the projection spell for this sacred sword felt incredibly smooth. Facing the dragon’s attacks, she gradually grasped the rhythm, no longer afraid. Before she knew it, the situation had slowly turned, and the dragon grew weaker from the curse of the sword’s wound, nearing death.

Hearing the plesiosaur-like dragon’s mournful cries below, Sylutia felt a pang of sadness. After all, it was a life, and there was no deep hatred between them.

But she found it hard to make the decision to lift the curse. She had heard the story of the farmer and the snake. If she let it go, and this plesiosaur-like dragon recovered and came back for revenge, who would bear that responsibility?

Sorry, Sylutia silently murmured to herself.

She was still too weak to shoulder the consequences of setting the dragon free.

For a moment, the sky fell silent. The sacred sword in Sylutia’s hand emitted a soft white glow, illuminating her figure and face. In the layers of clouds below, the plesiosaur-like dragon struggled to gather the last of the rain, channeling it to the wounds in a futile attempt to heal wounds that could never heal.

It let out a low, mournful cry, gradually unable to maintain its suspension in the clouds, slowly falling into the world below.

As it neared the ground, it first crashed into a mountain peak, shattering rocks, then tumbled down into a canyon among the mountains, its body covered in debris and blood. The scales on its body had become dull and lifeless, their defensive power greatly diminished.

It could no longer lift its neck, only barely managing to curl its head around to bite at the white flowers on the wounds on its back, trying to tear at the curse. But Sylutia knew these flowers were just the surface of the curse. The true roots had spread throughout its blood and body. The dragon’s efforts were in vain.

Its breathing grew weaker. Each heartbeat became more labored. The dragon’s blood grew thin, its color fading. The brightness in its eyes gradually dimmed, losing its vision.

Finally, the dragon’s head slid from its back, falling crookedly to the ground. Its eyelids slowly closed, leaving only a faint slit.

In the darkness, as if hearing a sigh...

In the slit of its fading vision, it saw a vague, blurred figure. Then, its sight sank into darkness.

It was as if returning to a distant past, when it had just been born, still trapped inside its dragon egg. Everything around was pitch black and devoid of light. It couldn’t find anything.

Slowly, the plesiosaur-like dragon’s consciousness faded.

Could it, like when it was young, once again see the blue sky?

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