White Cry

The next morning.

The midday sun hung high and merciless in the sky, pouring down its blazing brilliance without restraint.

Outside the Xi Family courtyard, something was unfolding—something a forest enthusiast would definitely not enjoy.

“That one—dispose of it. Thanks.”

“Oh, and this—make sure to follow the blueprint exactly. Don’t go adding your own ‘improvements.’”

“This piece too—be careful with it. It’s delicate.”

“Sui Ming, are you done yet?!”

The silver-haired little dragon roared in protest.

Ever since Sui Ming discovered just how unnaturally sharp Bai Ling’s teeth were, a less-than-human idea had begun brewing in his head.

The Bai Ling Brand Cutter™.
Consumes just one serving of food per morning.
Guaranteed high precision. High performance.
Every user recommends it—

…except the cutter herself.

Sui Ming pulled a half-dissolved hunk of iron from between her teeth, then stuffed in a slice of meat. Only then did Bai Ling reluctantly release her bite on his arm.

The strength of dragons, after all, mostly came from their freakishly powerful bodies.

And one of their strangest traits? Their saliva, which worked like a universal solvent.

It was said that red dragons, born of flame, produced spit that was perfect for high-end alchemy.

Bai Ling, of course, was only a little silver dragon.

But hey—she’d do. Sui Ming wasn’t picky.

“Seriously though… what exactly are you trying to do? Smelting iron? Weird contraptions?”

“Something… you’ve never seen before.”

With that, Sui Ming poured out all the metal he’d been soaking in Bai Ling’s dragon spit.

The liquefied metal sizzled as it filled the custom molds he had crafted.

He quickly stirred the mixture, then plunged it into water for a cold extraction.

“Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!”

A flock of crows above offered their oddly synchronized commentary.

“It’s done!”

“I’ve actually recreated one of the most powerful inventions of the 21st century in this godforsaken place!”

“Truly, I’m a genius! HAHAHAHA—”

He lifted a pitch-black, cross-shaped weapon into the air, clearly proud and ready to show off to Bai Ling.

She, on the other hand, looked utterly baffled—then snatched it from his hands.

“Hey! Careful with that! It’s delicate!”

“…Sui Ming, are you sure you haven’t hit your head?”

“It’s hard to believe this came from you.”

She sighed, then raised the black weapon like it was a useless twig.

And then… gave it a light tap.

Crack.

Sui Ming froze.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Bai Ling gave him a helpless look, holding up the broken gun—now in two clean halves—between her fingers.

“Please. That toy didn’t even have basic alchemical reinforcement.”

“It’d barely make a decent teether for me.”

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing Sui Ming by the arm, she dragged him off to the side.

“I don’t know much about this stuff either. But I do know one thing—”

“Equivalent exchange!”

She raised her hand, bit into her finger, and let a few drops of blood fall into the crucible.

At once, a massive surge of mana enveloped the area.

A pillar of silver-white light burst upward into the sky, parting the clouds and bathing the courtyard in blinding brilliance.

That light climbed in intensity, changing from silver to gold, and still it rose higher.

The mana had reached [Gold Vein] level—and it wasn’t done yet.

A majestic dragon’s roar echoed through the forest, rippling through the layers of foliage.

Above the cauldron, a shimmering silver-white dragon silhouette coiled in the air.

“…Good god. Are you a dragon, or a high-powered movie projector?!”

“Now! Sui Ming—pour it in!”

“What? Like this?! There’s no mold ready!”

“Just do it! You clueless amateur!”

“Okay, okay! You’re the boss!”

Grumbling, Sui Ming dumped the golden-hued molten metal onto the workbench.

Bai Ling raised her hand and, with a flick of her wrist, the glowing liquid floated into the air, dancing weightlessly above the table.

“…Telekinesis too? I’m so jealous.”

Her usual laziness vanished. For once, Bai Ling looked completely serious.

As a Silver Dragon, she possessed innate mastery over mana—especially elemental magic.

Her kind were born to be alchemists.

And although Bai Ling seemed to lack the racial memory that usually came with her bloodline, her instincts hadn’t dulled one bit.

With a graceful sweep of her fingers, the molten metal in the air morphed like clay, shining gold one moment, then glowing violet the next.

“Watch closely. This is dragon alchemy.”

She slowly traced a shallow cut across her forehead with one finger.

Then, pointing delicately, a drop of golden blood floated into the mass of molten silver.

It was the finishing stroke—the soul of the creation.

“By my blood, I grant this my supreme blessing!”

The moment her blood entered the alloy, a radiant light exploded outward.

Sui Ming shielded his eyes, squinting through the searing glow.

The iron surged and shifted—condensing, forging, purifying.

Bai Ling gasped for breath.

And then…
A beautifully crafted silver dagger appeared in her hands.
Beads of crystal-clear sweat rolled from her brow, dripping onto the hilt.

Her body swayed from exhaustion—on the brink of collapse.

But in that moment, she felt a familiar warmth catch her.

She had just expended her life essence.

Barely holding onto consciousness, she whispered:

“This little thing can be my… meal payment.”

“And also… for future meals…”

With that, she closed her eyes—and passed out.

Sui Ming caught her just in time, supporting her frail frame.

“…This kid.”

“Is a few meals really worth that much?”

Even someone like Sui Ming—clueless about the world—could roughly guess how much effort she had put into that blade.

“Get some rest.”

“I really… owe her now.”

He turned back to the dagger.

The silver-white blade shimmered with faint gold veins, like flowing blood beneath glass.

The dragon sigil on the hilt glimmered in the sunlight, brilliant and otherworldly.

As Sui Ming held it up, he felt something stir inside him.

A ripple in his blood.

A pull toward the weapon—like it was calling to him.

A silver current surged through his veins, breaking the dam that had long held back his mana.

“…Guess I’m a real [Soul Invoker] now, huh?”

His eyes locked onto the blade.

Then, softly, he named it:

“Let’s call it… White Cry.”

A pure-white blood, echoing through the skies.