Chapter 162 | Born as a Dragon, Sorry About That?

Drip... drip...

In the dark, damp, and foul-smelling underground passage, water seeping from the cracks in the rocks dripped slowly and rhythmically down the stone stalactites hanging high from the ceiling.

Faintly glowing, dark-green moss was scattered sparsely across the damp ground and rock walls.

In the silent space, a rhythmic breathing sound would echo from time to time.

It sounded like a gentle breeze passing through a narrow cave.

Or perhaps like some creature fast asleep...

Whoosh!

Right then, a small pocket of space within the passage suddenly warped, as if three-dimensional space had collapsed into two dimensions, becoming a piece of illustrated paper being twisted at will.

The next moment, this "twisted paper" suddenly stretched back out. As it restored itself, a light breeze kicked up, and three figures inexplicably materialized in the air.

Thud!

Irene landed on one knee. Her slightly furrowed brow betrayed her inner turmoil.

This kind of long-distance spatial movement put far too much strain on the body compared to short-range blinks.

Even with a dragon's powerful physique, she couldn't help but feel a sharp, fleeting pain in her head the moment the teleportation completed.

The experience of teleporting via a magic array was simply incomparable to teleporting with the power of faith.

If teleporting with the power of faith was like flying first-class—perfectly comfortable with barely any side effects—

then teleporting via an array drawn with magic runes and spell components was no different from riding in a crowded, hard-seat train.

"Blegh..."

A familiar sound came from beside her. Irene turned to look and saw Charlotte lying on the ground in a completely ungraceful manner, retching.

Perhaps because she had already emptied her stomach earlier, she could only dry-heave now, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes behind her messy hair.

"What's wrong with you? That's twice you've thrown up in such a short time."

Irene raised an eyebrow. Now that they had reached the Underdark, in her eyes, this atypical white dragon was already bound to her "pirate ship." They were in the same boat now; there was no escape.

Thus, after a brief pause, the rather mischievous little dragon girl teased with zero decency, "Miss Charlotte, could it be that you're pregnant? Hmm... Care to share how many months along you are?"

Hearing this, Christine—who was extremely sensitive to such topics—blushed furiously for some reason and hastily protested, "No! Of course not!"

Realizing he had lost his composure, he let out a breath, wiped the corner of his mouth, and forced down the intense nausea in his stomach before explaining, "I just... get a bit of teleportation sickness..."

"Oh?" Irene was instantly intrigued. To think a dragon's constitution could actually suffer from teleportation sickness. And considering how he had thrown up just from her flying a bit too fast earlier...

Should I expect any less from a white dragon, the shame of the chromatic dragons? What a wimp! she grumbled internally.

Meanwhile, Christine looked at Irene, who had a hint of disdain in her eyes. He knew he was likely being looked down upon, but he couldn't voice his grievances. If he said, “Actually, I wasn't always this weak. It's all because your mother played too wild back then and left me with trauma,”

his daughter would probably look at him like he was a total loser and a creep...

Just as the atmosphere grew slightly awkward, Arthas, the third party, spoke up.

"Mother, Miss Charlotte, I believe that if you have matters to discuss, you can wait until after we deal with these mutated creatures."

"Otherwise, I fear they might ruin your mood."

"They?"

Hearing this, Irene shifted her gaze away from Christine's face. Her ears twitched, catching a flurry of faint, rapid rustling sounds rapidly approaching.

Before she could even expand her mental power to scan the area, the source of the noise appeared at the far end of the passage, surging forward like a plague of locusts.

It was a swarm of... mutated subterranean spiders!

These spiders averaged about two meters in length. They should have had eight legs, but due to their mutation, they generally had many more. Worse, most of these extra legs grew in places they shouldn't have.

Like on their backs, their heads, or... mutated into jointed, shell-less tentacles wrapped in a fleshy membrane, extending from their mouths and waving constantly as they moved.

Furthermore, their original exoskeletons could no longer contain their bloated, mutated flesh, leaving most of their internal organs exposed to the open air.

They looked filthy, vile, disgusting, and profane.

"Did those guys from the Human Kingdoms lock the teleportation anchor right inside a spider's nest?!"

Irene complained under her breath and quickly stood up.

Considering the limited size of the passage, reverting to her true form was impractical. Casting magic would also make too much noise and potentially attract more mutated creatures. Thus, she decisively pulled a custom chainsword reflecting a cold, sharp gleam from her storage ring.

As violent mana surged into it, the chainsword instantly began to buzz.

At the same time, she didn't forget to show some "concern" for Christine: "Can you still stand? Don't stress your 'pregnancy' once the fight starts."

"Ugh..." Christine's face grew even more unsightly. Puffing out his cheeks, he raised his eyes to look at the oncoming swarm of mutated spiders. He felt that he could no longer allow his daughter to look down on him. It was time to restore his glory as a dragon father!

With that thought, an enigmatic glint flashed in his golden, slit-pupil eyes.

Exhaling slowly, he stood up from the ground.

Then, under Irene's astonished gaze, he took a step forward, and his Gold Rank aura rippled outward.

The storage ring on his finger flashed, and the two silver needles he had previously used for knitting a wool hat appeared in his hands.

Taking a second step, the silver needles rapidly expanded.

In a mere instant, they swelled to human height, transforming into two elegant silver spears.

The tips on both ends gleamed with a cold light.

Taking a third step, Christine gripped the dual spears, pointing their tips diagonally at the ground. His long silver hair fluttered without any wind. Countless mutated spiders surged toward him, rapidly closing the distance.

Yet, there was not a single trace of fear on his face.

At this moment, Christine looked like a peerless warrior on an ancient battlefield, poised to stand alone against a massive army...

An absolute powerhouse!

Seeing his tragic yet heroic back, Irene was inexplicably reminded of a classic poem: “The wind sighs and the Yi River runs cold; once the warrior departs, he shall never return!”

Thud!

Christine took his fourth step.