The most terrifying creature in the known universe was currently attempting to burp an infant.
Dà Jiāo Huǒ, the Burning Sky, the oldest living dragon of the First Generation, the being whose very name had made empires tremble and lesser dragons flee screaming into the void, held Zhēn against his chest carefully.
He patted her back. Gently. He thought.
Pat.
Zhēn made an angry sound.
Pat.
The sound intensified.
Pat.
Zhēn let out a burp that was, frankly, unworthy of her lineage. It was small. It was dainty.
Then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
Dà Jiāo Huǒ stared at her.
"I did it," he whispered to the empty chamber. "I... I did it. I burped the baby."
The crystals did not respond. The ancient texts on his shelf did not applaud. The wind outside the window, which had once carried his war cries across mountains, did not acknowledge his triumph.
He did not care.
He had burped the baby.
Two hours earlier, Bai Yue had handed Zhēn to him.
