The pillar of pure golden light climbing from the Viridian Dragon-Hound’s brow lit up every cracked stone, every broken banner. Every dropped weapon in the Cloud-Mist Colosseum.
In the center of the beam, an ancient, rotating mandala of sky runes crystal-hardened into solid reality.
The runes didn’t burn with mortal fire.
They gleamed with the immortal, ancient power of the True Dragon lineage—an ancient soul script predating the rise of the current mortal empires by ten thousand years.
On the royal balcony, Crown Prince Chu Tianxiao’s chief royal advisor gasped so hard he nearly choked on his silver beard.
“The Ancestral Blood Seal!” the advisor shrieked, clawing at the Prince’s stitched silk sleeve. “Your Highness! Look upon the heavens! The beast has unveiled its Primordial Soul Core! It’s offering an Absolute Master-Servant Pact!”
Tianxiao’s eyes widened to the size of jade saucers, his earlier humiliation instantly swallowed by a tidal wave of wild, insatiable greed.
“An Absolute Pact?” Tianxiao breathed, his voice trembling with manic excitement. “A voluntary sovereign bond with a Rank-2 Peak draconic titan?!”
“Yes, Your Highness!” Grand Teacher Song shouted, bowing wildly. “The beast’s wild nature has been subdued! In accordance with royal law, only one of the Royal Bloodline possesses the divine royal mandate to receive such an honor! Step forward! Claim the beast before the commoners!”
Tianxiao didn’t hesitate for another heartbeat.
He ripped his heavy dragon-robe free from his attendants, drew the old family Royal Jade Ring from his thumb. Then he vaulted over the marble terrace with desperate speed.
He landed on the glass-fused arena floor, his silk boots crunching against the glass shards as he sprinted toward the golden pillar like a starving wolf spotting fresh meat.
“Stand aside, peasant!” Tianxiao bellowed, his ritual sword rattling at his hip as he charged into the crater. “By decree of the Tianxuan Empire, the Crown Prince accepts the divine beast’s eternal pledge!”
The Prince extended his right hand, the jade ring glowing with crimson royal Qi, aiming straight for the radiant mandala hovering between the beast’s horns.
He envisioned the glory awaiting him at the Imperial Court.
With a Rank-2 Peak dragon-hound bound to his soul, his row to the throne would be inviolable.
The high sects would bow, the border barbarians would tremble. His name would be carved into the golden annals of the empire.
He closed the distance to five paces, a triumphant roar tearing from his throat: “I, Chu Tianxiao, accept your—”
The Viridian Dragon-Hound’s massive head turned toward the sprinting prince.
Its nostrils flared.
It didn’t summon its dragon-fire. It didn’t swing its twenty-foot tail.
It simply inhaled a modest lungful of dusty arena air through its nose, scrunched its scaly snout into an expression of deep canine disgust, and sneezed.
ACHOOOOOO—!
The sneeze was not a living expulsion.
It was a forty-mile-per-hour, high-pressure sky blast wave that blasted out of two three-foot-wide nostrils with the force of an unsealed wind tunnel.
A cone of gale-force air, with a generous spray of warm nasal mist, slammed directly into Crown Prince Chu Tianxiao’s chest.
“GYAAAAAAH!”
The Crown Prince’s royal cry transformed into a strangled, high-pitched screech.
His feet left the ground.
His body flew backward in a majestic, flailing arc across thirty yards of open air, spinning like a top before crashing headfirst into a pile of soft crushed sand at the base of the eastern retaining wall.
His gold-plated breastplate was coated in clear dragon snot.
His golden coronet rolled into a puddle of stale rainwater. His stitched silk boots kicked pathetically in the air.
Silence fell over the arena once more.
Fifty thousand fighters stared at the upside-down prince in the sand heap. Their jaws were locked in horror.
Down in the center of the golden spotlight, the Viridian Dragon-Hound didn’t even spare a second glance at the fallen prince.
It turned its massive, four-ton skull slowly back toward Frank.
The beast’s big jade eyes softened into pools of pure, liquid affection.
It didn’t rise. It didn’t demand royal tribute.
Instead, with the deliberate, tender care of a mother cat carrying a newborn kitten, the huge dragon-hound lowered its massive forehead until it was resting directly on the arena floorboards.
Right at Frank’s feet.
More specifically, right against the scuffed, oil-stained, cowhide leather of Frank’s left steel-toed work boot.
Frank looked down at the massive green snout resting against his foot.
“Hey, watch the boots, buddy,” Frank murmured. He looked at the glowing runes dancing across the leather. “These are genuine oil-tanned Red Wings. I spent forty bucks on these in Peoria.”
The dragon-hound let out a soft, rumbling purr that made the sole of Frank’s boot vibrate.
Then, the golden mandala hovering above its brow horns collapsed inward.
VUUUUUUM—!
The blinding pillar of heavenly light funneled straight down into a packed beam no thicker than a carpenter’s pencil. It struck the tongue and laces of Frank’s left boot!
A brilliant, crimson-gold brand began to burn into the leather.
Fine, detailed, micro-etched lines of pure ancient draconic script wove themselves into the heavy nylon bootlaces, binding the threads with iron-hard sky power.
A tiny crest of a roaring dragon head, flanked by two crossed framing hammers that the system had automatically pushed in to match Frank’s vocational affinity, seared itself directly into the leather ankle patch.
The system screen in Frank’s eye flared with blinding, urgent gold:
A faint warmth spread through the sole of Frank’s left foot. It traveled up his calf and settled comfortably into his lower belly.
It wasn’t painful.
It felt remarkably like slipping his foot into a freshly warmed sheepskin slipper after an eight-hour shift in the snow.
Across the four quadrants of the Grand Colosseum, the silence was total.
Hall Master Han sat frozen against the broken stone, his eyes wide.
“The Absolute Sovereign Life-Bond...” Han muttered, his voice barely carrying past his collar. “A soul contract that transcends life and death. The dragon will never turn against the soul of its master.”
“And look at the anchor!” Chief Elder Wu said, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. “It didn’t brand his dantian. It didn’t brand his forehead. It branded his footwear!”
“Why the footwear?!” a young examinee shouted in confusion.
“Ignorant child!” Grand Elder Yan said from the upper terrace, leaning over the rail. “Do you not see the Daoist metaphor?! In the eyes of the master, an apex beast isn’t raised above his daily labor. By pledging its soul to his bootlaces, the beast declares its place beside his stride!”
A murmur of stunned realization rippled through the gallery benches.
“Look at the sigil,” an elder from the Refinement Court pointed out. “Two crossed implements. Twin heavy mallets... Forged like the foundation tools of antiquity.”
Several older scholars in the upper pavilion began wildly sketching the crossed hammers into their personal journals. Their hands shook as they traced every curve and notch of the toolhead.
In the eastern gallery, Princess Jiang Ling’er watched with her arms neatly folded. Her lips curved into a delighted smile.
“Permanent hardware lock,” Ling’er noted softly. “By anchoring the contract to the footwear assembly, Master maintains complete separation of living systems. The beast provides backup energy shunting while Master avoids skull spiritual entanglements.”
Shen Shitou nodded solemnly, resting his heavy hand on his sledgehammer. “Master’s boots have walked through concrete, acid, and gravel. Now they have a dragon on the heel. A solid foundation for any construction project.”
Niu Mang chuckled, wiping his spade. “The prince tried to grab it with a gold ring and got a face full of snot. Master just stood there and got a shiny shoelace. That’s what happens when you treat animals right.”
Down in the sand heap by the wall, Crown Prince Chu Tianxiao was hauled out of the muck by four shivering royal guards.
The Prince wiped the slimy dragon snot from his eyes. He stared across the pit at Frank’s glowing boot with a face purple with livid humiliation.
“My bond...” Tianxiao hissed, spitting out a mouthful of gritty sand and pond weed. “That was my royal bond! He stole my beast! He stole my dragon!”
“Your Highness, be silent!” the guard captain whispered wildly, dragging the Prince backward into the shadows. “The beast’s life-force is now bound to that man! If we strike him, the dragon will slaughter every soldier in the guard post!”
Down in the center of the arena, Frank lifted his left foot and inspected the glowing golden emblem on the leather.
The crossed hammers and dragon crest pulsed with a faint, steady heartbeat, matching his own pulse with split-second care.
Frank let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing his temples with thumb and forefinger.
“Great,” Frank grunted. “Just fantastic. A permanent glowing neon tattoo on my favorite pair of work boots. Do you know how hard it’s to get grease off of stitched leather?”
The dragon-hound let out a happy canine whimper, nudging the branded boot with its warm snout, its tail gently thumping against the crushed flat stone slabs.
Frank shook his head and lowered his foot back to the earth.
“Well, Big Green,” Frank muttered. “At least you didn’t chew up the laces.”