My Host Only Marries the Strong

The dragon’s green eyes narrowed into vertical slits, her savage nature no longer suppressed.

Her body erupted in flames, her glass-like red scales burning with intensity. Without hesitation, her tail came crashing down.

The pressure of a Late Golden Core stage rippled outward.

The man’s disdain vanished, replaced by pure terror. He raised his blade to block, but when the edge met the dragon’s scales, it produced only a pathetic clang.

The spiritual pressure around Error began to churn—a sign of an impending breakthrough. She looked at the man with chilling indifference and struck again.

A streak of red flame cut through the air.

CRACK.

The scent of blood began to spread.

Error let out a deafening roar, her blood-stained scales whipping the man’s magical weapon away.

She opened her maw and spoke in a human voice: “Early Golden Core? Nothing special.”

From a hidden corner, a watcher felt a chill run through his bones. “A waste of one of my Elders!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Before his voice had even faded, the Fire Rock Dragon twisted her head. Her fierce eyes locked onto his hiding spot, and she unleashed a torrent of flame.

“Crap!” Changjie broke into a cold sweat. He leaped from his cover, narrowly dodging the fire.

His gaze turned icy as he looked toward the woman standing calmly on the mountain peak.

“So it was you! You’re the one who bullied my son, Changsheng!” Changjie barked. “And you have the audacity to steal business from my sect? State your name and your sect! Do you have the guts?!”

Seraphine looked at him with profound disappointment. Another Golden Core. Not even worth the effort.

Seeing the mockery in her eyes, Changjie growled, “My son was right—you are utterly arrogant! Let’s see what you’ve got!”

He lunged toward Seraphine with his blade. She didn’t move an inch.

Error’s tail slammed down to intercept him, but a triumphant grin spread across Changjie’s face. “Fool! Don’t you know the tactic of ‘making a feint to the east while attacking the west’?”

A whistling sound approached from behind. A silver light shot toward Seraphine’s back.

Inside the silk pouch, Echo’s form began to glow with a light like falling snow, radiating a bone-chilling frost.

In that split second, time seemed to stretch. The expression of the woman attempting the sneak attack shifted from cruelty to pure horror.

Her falling blade stopped mid-air, caught firmly by a beautiful hand. The fingers were slender and pale, adorned with gold and jade rings inlaid with brilliant gems—the hands of a pampered, high-born woman.

Yet, this delicate hand was effortlessly restraining the blade, even though the attacker had put fifty percent of her power into the strike.

Seraphine had used only enough force to stop her, fearing she might accidentally kill the woman before she could get information about her sect.

“You……” Mengyun still couldn’t sense the woman’s cultivation level. Her hand began to tremble as realization dawned on her.

This Fire Rock Dragon wasn’t a bodyguard—it was a spirit beast.

During the Five Continents Competition, a legendary figure had emerged. She had taken first place as a Golden Core cultivator, and by her side was a Fire Rock Dragon.

If this was truly that person, building a city next to the Wooden Cloud Sect—or even filling the entire Westle Continent with cities—would be as simple as a single command.

And her cultivation had already surpassed Mengyun’s two years ago.

Now, Mengyun’s grip on her blade faltered. Her eyes, wide with panic, reflected a spark of golden-red flame igniting within Seraphine’s palm.

In an instant, the fire surged, devouring the magical weapon before swallowing Mengyun’s body whole.

“Luan— Agh!”

“Tsk.” Seraphine’s disappointment deepened. She didn’t even spare a glance at the person being consumed by flames at her feet.

Nearby, hearing his wife’s blood-curdling scream, Changjie’s face turned a ghostly pale.

Dodging the Fire Rock Dragon’s swipe, he reached into his storage ring and hurled an object into the air, shrieking at the top of his lungs, “Lord, save me!”

The ink-jade puppet caught the sunlight, reflecting a harsh, piercing glare.

Suddenly, a black primordial soul erupted from the vessel. The demon cultivator manifested, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the scene.

When his gaze met Seraphine’s, both were struck with a shock of recognition.

“Yunong Vel—”

“A demon cultivator!” The cold indifference on Seraphine’s face vanished, replaced by a towering rage. The Wooden Cloud Sect had the audacity to collude with the demonic path!

She raised her hand, and the flames in her palm roared to life. Mengyun, who had been clinging to her final breath on the ground, spat out a mouthful of blood as the fire intensified, reducing her to a cloud of gray smoke in seconds.

Seraphine soared into the sky without a backward glance. Her natal weapon manifested, trailing a wake of raging fire as she swung it toward the demon.

The demon cultivator’s gaze turned sharp; he knew that today, one of them had to die—but he was determined it wouldn’t be him.

Clang!

A fire phoenix let out a piercing cry, charging toward the demon with a belly full of fury.

The demon cultivator sneered, raising a palm. A Soul Transformation pressure rippled outward, shattering the phoenix into embers.

“A descendant of Yunong Velka? You are no match for me. Die!”

On the ground, Error swatted Changjie away with her tail before flying up to Seraphine, shrinking into a small dragon that coiled protectively around her master’s wrist.

Vroom!

The Brahma Bell erupted with golden light. Buddhist chants echoed between heaven and earth, a holy melody designed to purge all evil.

The demon’s expression shifted drastically as he dodged a reflected strike, coming to a halt before the radiating bell.

Seraphine slowly lifted her gaze. Her eyes burned with a literal fire, fueled by a hatred that wished to shred the demon into a thousand pieces.

“Heh.”

How she longed to grind his bones to dust herself. But it was a pity.

A true pity.

Her tongue ran across her lips. Her eyes were as cold as frost, yet her voice was hauntingly gentle and lingering as she called out: “Echo.”

She remembered Echo’s promise: Whenever you encounter something you cannot handle, just call my name, and I will do anything for you.

A massive phantom manifested between heaven and earth.

Silver hair cascaded down like a waterfall; a figure seemingly carved from ice and snow looked down at the demon with utter clinical indifference.

In those silver-white eyes, a chilling killing intent began to pool.

The demon was shaken. “Who…… who are you?”

“Have you never seen a Divine Artifact before?”

Echo floated in the air, her arms spread wide as she embraced Seraphine from behind.

She pressed her cheek against Seraphine’s, her voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “She is my wielder.”

“I am the System Soul.”

“And I have come to kill you.”

[Author’s Note]:

Work Log: Seraphine’s goal is my goal.