Dragon-Hunting Cage

Dragon hunter Song Zhihan walked a solitary path for ten years, her hands stained with the blood of seven dragons, never leaving a single one alive. Until she crossed paths with that wind dragon in North Valley. He took human form, leaning against a tree with a careless, roguish air, and flashed her a smile. She should have shot him dead on the spot, but on some strange impulse, she bound him and dragged him back to her cellar. For three months, she fed him, seared him with hot iron, then soothed his wounds with ice — like taming a wild beast that refused to lower its head. The dragon’s name was Xiao Jin, and the way he looked at her shifted from pure hatred into something far more dangerous. Tonight, she fell asleep slumped over the table, while the chains around his wrists had, at some unnoticed moment, already come loose.