The Spring of Yinglong

🐉 Ancient Fate

In the primordial age when heaven and earth were first formed, Emperor Xuanyuan entrusted two divine generals with the fate of the world:
One was Han-Ba, the daughter of fire.
The other—Yinglong, the god of ice and water.

Han Ba, born of the emperor’s mortal bloodline, was also the ancestral origin of the zombie race.
Though her beauty rivaled that of a goddess, her body radiated an intense heat. Wherever she walked, moisture vanished, and drought followed.
Her powers were rare and magnificent, yet dangerously destructive.
Emperor Xuanyuan was proud of her celestial voice, which soothed the hearts of heavenly warriors each night.
But he feared her fire—so potent it could scorch the world into oblivion.
Better to keep it sealed than risk its wrath.

Daylight was Han Ba’s torment.
When the sun rose, she retreated into the shadows of the Dragon Spring Cave.
If exposed, the heat within and without would dry her flesh to bone.
To preserve her life, the emperor built a palace deep within the cave, a sanctuary of moisture and silence.

Only one guardian was entrusted with her care: Yinglong.
The Dragon Spring lay within his domain, and he patrolled the dragon veins with unwavering loyalty.
Though he had never seen Han Ba, he had once heard her voice—
a song so enchanting, it stirred the waters of his soul.

🐉Scene 2: The Divide of Water and Fire

North is water, South is fire.
The northern lands are cold and dry, while the southern lands are humid and hot.
The North belongs to Yinglong—a realm of frozen vastness, abundant in water. It is the most comfortable and nurturing place for him, where the rich water resources empower his divine strength, enhancing his combat readiness for Huangdi’s campaigns.

Though the South is Hanba’s domain, she cannot freely roam within it. Her presence intensifies drought, and the longer she stays, the more devastating the damage.
In the past, Yinglong would consider this and patrol the southern borders each season, bringing torrential rains to relieve the drought.
But Huangdi’s increasing demands have worn Yinglong down. His responsibilities far exceed those of other divine generals, and so he now rests beneath the dragon veins, conserving his energy.

Hanba understands these arrangements stem from Huangdi’s compassion for his daughter.
She too resides in the Dragon Spring Cave, quietly cultivating her strength, hoping one day to fight alongside her father and repay his love.
She feels a deep guilt toward Yinglong and longs to meet him to express her gratitude.
Yet the opportunity never comes—Huangdi has placed a magical barrier between them, preventing any contact unless the world itself collapses.

Yinglong has no intention of breaking the barrier. His divine nature is upright and untrained in emotional matters, which is precisely why Huangdi trusts him so deeply.
After all, water and fire are incompatible. Their union would be catastrophic.
Though Huangdi placed his daughter in the perilous Dragon Spring Cave, he believed it to be the safest place—guarded by two loyal beings, never suspecting that love might one day spark between them.

🐉Scene 3: The Fire Within the Spring

One night, Hanba sat quietly in the Dragon Spring Pool within her palace, cooling her fiery essence.
She watched the palace servants—embers of flame, mere fire demons—drifting like starlight through the halls.
To Hanba, who had cultivated a humanoid form and divine power, they were nothing more than dull, soulless phantoms.

In her youth, before her fire matured, Hanba roamed freely through Huangdi’s harem.
Everyone praised her beauty, calling her a celestial maiden descended from heaven.
She basked in the poetic innocence of girlhood, living a life of carefree joy.
But once she came of age, her name changed from Nvba to Hanba, and she was moved to her own palace—isolated, sealed away as the goddess of drought.

Over time, a deep melancholy grew within her.
It was like burning waste trapped in a sealed furnace—damaging both body and spirit.
Even the cold spring water of the Dragon Pool couldn’t evaporate her sorrow.
She thought of Yinglong, whose presence once brought balance.
Now, the idea of living without him felt unbearable.
The eternal separation was a cruel truth she struggled to accept.

Yinglong, ever sensitive to elemental shifts, could feel the heat waves even while resting deep in the mountains.
When the celestial eye of the Dragon Spring Cave began to steam, he knew the water source was in crisis.
Whenever this happened, Hanba would sing—pouring her emotions into song, trying to release the bitterness, sweetness, and sorrow within.
If she didn’t, the fire would consume her from the inside.

Hanba didn’t want her divine beauty to be destroyed by her own flames.
So she dove into the pool, swimming to its depths, where she discovered a hidden spring tunnel.
Curious, she followed the narrow passage, just wide enough for one person, flowing against the current.
To her surprise, Yinglong was swimming toward her from the other side.

It was the first time Hanba saw him up close—and she was stunned.
She quickly turned and hid behind a rock, peeking out cautiously.
Yinglong was breathtaking: a divine general with a majestic tail that summoned wind and rain.
His noble features carried a subtle melancholy that left a lasting impression on Hanba’s heart.

🐉 Scene 4: The Unspoken Flame

“Is he truly Father’s divine general, Yinglong?”
The moment Yinglong appeared—radiant and commanding—Hanba was utterly captivated.
In the bloom of her youth, she began to admire him deeply, branding an unquenchable love into her heart.

Yinglong had only come to patrol the water flow, replenishing it before swiftly departing.
He didn’t notice Hanba nearby, hidden and watching him in silence.
He merely sensed heat waves surging from the spring tunnel, making it difficult for the cold water to advance.
Once the water finally condensed and cooled the area, the crisis was resolved, and Yinglong returned to his resting place.

That night, however, Yinglong heard a hauntingly beautiful song echoing through the cave.
He felt it was Hanba—whom he had never met—sending waves of gratitude through her voice, soothing his spirit.
Smiling, he drifted into sleep, comforted by the melody.

Back in the Dragon Spring Cave, Hanba couldn’t sleep.
Ever since she saw Yinglong’s true form, her impression of him as a rough and reckless war god had changed.
Beneath his majestic aura was a refined elegance—like jade swaying in the wind.
His piercing eyes stirred her soul, and the ripples from his tail carried a gentle tenderness.
Even the way he moved through the spring tunnel showed care, as if afraid the water’s sound might disturb the princess’s rest.

Hanba watched in secret, her heart blooming with sweetness.
A sacred corner of her soul quietly opened for Yinglong, nurturing a love that was imperfect but precious.

Huangdi had once sternly warned her:
As a princess born of divine destiny, she had no right to pursue personal happiness.
Her duty was to serve the people, not herself.
Back then, Hanba was still the cherished daughter in Huangdi’s palm, unable to grasp the weight of those words.
But after falling for Yinglong at first sight, she finally understood—this hidden love was a painful abyss, worse than death.

🐉 Scene 5: The Heat of Longing and the Storm of War

Days of longing ignited Hanba’s inner fire—her passionate vitality triggered waves of light and heat.
She began to feel drowsy, only to realize she was severely dehydrated.
Her love had grown so intense that she could no longer control her flames.
She soaked in the cold spring more and more often, and the heat waves she emitted became increasingly noticeable.

Her emotions were tangled in contradiction.
She longed to see Yinglong again to ease her aching heart, yet feared she was causing trouble.
What if Yinglong discovered her true intentions?
Would he look down on her, despise her?

Meanwhile, snowmelt from the northern mountains flowed into the rivers.
Yinglong sensed the water temperature rising in erratic patterns.
Hot springs bubbled from the cave walls, and he grew uneasy.
He feared that if he left the palace to fight, the northern springs might face hidden threats of warming.

Yinglong considered reporting this to Huangdi.
Just then, Huangdi summoned him to discuss a new campaign—an assault on Chiyou’s tribe.

“We’ve fought Chiyou’s forces many times and failed to defeat them.
Their ghost soldiers and monstrous generals are overwhelming.
This time, we’ve sent the Wind Earl and Rain Master, but only you can withstand the thunderstorm assault,”
Huangdi said, seizing a rare chance to counterattack.

Yinglong remained silent, but after deep thought, he agreed with Huangdi’s plan.

“Has there been any disturbance in Hanba’s palace?” Huangdi asked.
“I considered sending the drought goddess to battle Chiyou directly, but her methods are too destructive.
I fear she might harm others—or herself.
For now, I’ll send the divine dragon. Do you object?”

Huangdi valued Yinglong’s judgment.
Though water and fire share divine origins, they are fundamentally incompatible.
Both powerful, both trusted—but best kept apart.

🐉 Scene 6: The Risk of Union and the Fear of Farewell

“If it’s necessary to join forces… I can manage.
I’ve stored enough water to isolate the heat source.
But can the mortal realm withstand it?”
Yinglong pondered, then responded.

“That’s exactly the fear…”
Huangdi fell silent.
He knew Hanba’s nature well—once she lost control, she would burn like a fire phoenix, consuming life itself.
Creating drought was effortless for her, but if she went too far, the world would be left with a devastating image of her.

“Recently, the water temperature near Dragon Spring Cave has risen.
I wonder if Her Highness Hanba is unwell…
If I must go to battle, I ask Your Majesty to assign extra guards to monitor her closely.”
Yinglong took the opportunity to report.
This was a mission only Huangdi could personally oversee.

“Hmm… I’ll notify you when the date of the campaign is set.
Let’s leave it here for now.”
Huangdi was deep in thought.
He truly wished Yinglong and Hanba could fight Chiyou together—it would be an easy victory.
But he feared losing both of his beloved generals.
Such a brilliant strategy, yet no safeguard could protect them.

Yinglong returned to the river beneath the dragon veins, walking slowly.
Even during the day, he could faintly hear a beautiful humming voice.
It soothed him, easing his mind before the coming battle.

Hanba had learned that Huangdi summoned Yinglong to the palace.
It must be about the urgent war with Chiyou—otherwise, the emperor wouldn’t deploy his divine mount.
This concerned the legacy of the dragon veins.
If Yinglong went to war, it was like mobilizing the nation’s foundation.

Hanba grew anxious.
She feared she might never see Yinglong again.
What meaning would her lonely existence in the cave hold then?

The battlefield’s bloodshed would taint Yinglong’s divine aura.
If the battle went poorly and led to heavy casualties, Yinglong might be barred from ascending to the heavens.
He could fall into the mortal realm—and they might never meet again.
To Hanba, that would be an eternal separation, more painful than death.

🐉 Scene 7: The Forbidden Bond

“Absolutely not! I don’t want this!”
Hanba burst out in a fit of hysteria, her emotions boiling over.

“Don’t want what? What’s wrong?”
Huangdi rarely visited Hanba’s palace.
Father and daughter, long separated, now sat heavy with unspoken worries.

Hanba stared at Huangdi in stunned silence.
Her heart trembled—unless the war was truly dire, they would never meet again in this lifetime.

“What’s going on? I heard the water temperature has risen.
Did you lose control of your fire?”
Protected by the Nine-Dragon Celestial Robe, Huangdi approached with concern.

“I heard you summoned Yinglong?”
Hanba asked urgently, needing confirmation.

“Yes… Chiyou’s tribe is fiercely resisting.
We’ve failed to break through, so I had to send a divine general to drive them back.”
Huangdi took Hanba’s wrist and sat beside her.
Even through brief contact, he felt the scorching heat of her skin.
Without the robe’s protection, a mortal body would’ve been reduced to ash.

“Why Yinglong? Why not me?”
Hanba’s emotional tone was unmistakable.
Huangdi noticed immediately.

“You’ve seen Yinglong?”
He sighed.
“A fated entanglement…”
One glance at Hanba told him everything—his daughter had grown up, and no barrier could truly keep them apart.
Though the Grand Priest had set a magical seal, water reflects like a mirror.
Sooner or later, one of them would discover a way to meet safely through the spring.

🐉 Scene 8: The Courage to Love and the Power to Meet

Hanba, now touched by mortal emotions, had been refining her fire with the poison of love.
Huangdi, unable to resist his daughter’s persistent pleas, finally confessed—Yinglong was indeed preparing to battle Chiyou.

Hanba couldn’t bear to see Yinglong leave.
She proposed an alternative strategy to Huangdi:
She would fight in Yinglong’s place to protect the empire and its divine mount.
But she had one condition—she wanted to meet Yinglong privately to discuss tactics and plan a joint strategy.

Though conflicted, Huangdi wished to grant her request.
The union of water and fire could be a devastating weapon against their enemies.
Yet the risks were immense, and the plan was ultimately shelved.

Hanba’s unwavering love was born from glimpses of Yinglong’s true form.
This time, she wanted to seize the moment and ask Huangdi for a chance to meet him face-to-face.
She needed to know how Yinglong truly saw her and her resolve.

Such courage—how powerful must the allure of a radiant idol be, to make someone willing to sacrifice everything?

Hanba, anxious and uncertain, returned to the spring tunnel.
The large rock by the riverbed had become the witness of her first love.
She leaned quietly against it, unaware that Yinglong was already on the other side, eyes closed, waiting patiently.

Her burning passion sent waves of heat through the thick stone.
Yinglong felt the rising temperature and recognized the divine force behind it.
Only in his watery domain could the heat be cooled and contained.
To Yinglong, Hanba was a formidable and worthy counterpart.

“Is that you, Lady Hanba? Are you well?”
Yinglong asked gently through the rock.

Though rumors painted him as aloof and cold, the truth was different.
His noble demeanor was shaped by duty and respect for the emperor’s honor.
Beneath it all, he was thoughtful and sincere.

🐉 Scene 9: The Voice Behind the Stone

“Mm…”
A simple greeting was enough to make Hanba’s heart flutter.
Perhaps love had made her blind—she found even Yinglong’s calm, commanding voice irresistibly charming.

“His Majesty Huangdi said you had urgent matters to discuss.
Is it about Chiyou?”
Yinglong turned slightly, curious about the reason for their meeting.

“Don’t come any closer!”
Hanba caught a glimpse of his dragon tail moving through the water and panicked, rejecting the chance for face-to-face contact.

Yinglong furrowed his brow.
Rumors claimed Hanba’s voice was divine, but her adult form had become grotesque—like a living corpse.
Some said she was a seductive demon, which was why Huangdi had confined her.
Water and fire were both complementary and conflicting.
If they joined forces against Chiyou, the power might be overwhelming.
But it had never been tested, and Yinglong was simply following orders—here to understand Hanba’s intentions.

“Do you have any other instructions, Your Highness?”
Yinglong asked, still facing away.

“I want to know…
If I lose my divine power, will you save me?”
Hanba asked shyly, her voice tinged with worry.

“If I have the strength, I will do everything I can.
But what do you wish me to do?”
Yinglong lowered his gaze, waiting for her answer.

“Preserve the palace at Dragon Spring Cave.
Submerge my body in the snowmelt waters until I regain my divine consciousness.
Is that possible?”
Hanba’s request was humble.
She feared that in her weakened state, her monstrous appearance would be unbearable to others.
But all she wanted was a promise from Yinglong.

“Of course.
As comrades in arms, I will protect you with all my heart.”
Yinglong hadn’t expected Hanba to be preparing for the worst before the battle had even begun.
It was strange—but touching.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”
Hanba said, then swiftly swam away, returning to the Dragon Spring Pool.

“Your Highness? Are you still there?”
Yinglong called out, hoping to continue the conversation.
But the warmth behind the rock had faded.
He turned to look—Hanba was gone.

They never saw each other face-to-face.
Yet her voice lingered in his memory, beautiful and haunting.
He couldn’t help but wonder:
If her voice was so lovely…
Could her appearance truly be so terrifying?

The unanswered question left a mysterious impression—an echo of light and shadow etched into Yinglong’s heart.

🐉 Scene 10 – The Spring of Yinglong: Final Descent

Hanba lay silently by the Dragon Spring, tears flowing as her heart surged with uncontainable emotion.
She did not wish Yinglong to be tainted by the bloodshed of mortal battlefields, fearing it would prevent his ascension back to the heavens.
All she wanted was to sacrifice herself for love—a love that could never be united, yet deserved to be fulfilled in spirit.

Determined to be Yinglong’s shield, Hanba rose when he was defeated at Zhuolu by the storm gods—Fengbo and Yushi—who unleashed sandstorms and thunder to strike him down.
Hanba stepped forward to face Chiyou’s tribe, unleashing her divine power of light and heat until it was utterly consumed, vanquishing the enemy completely.

Her sudden appearance stunned Yinglong.
She was not the grotesque specter of legend, but a goddess descended in grace.
Yet the depletion of her energy transformed her—her beauty faded, her body withered, her face pale and hollow like a revenant.
Yinglong stood frozen between awe and sorrow, torn between the divine and the decayed.

Hanba’s sacrifice made her heart radiant with love, her soul pure with compassion.
She knew this act would strip her of divinity, her essence cast into the mortal realm to be cleansed across three lifetimes.
This truth made Yinglong hesitate.

Wounded and weary, Yinglong still held himself with the dignity of a celestial general.
He cradled Hanba’s frail, lifeless body—light as a feather, bones like dry twigs—her sunken eyes and silver hair stirring his long-buried mercy.
He honored his promise, returning her to the Dragon Spring Palace.
In human form, he remained regal and solemn, carrying her with reverence as they slowly descended into the waters together.

His brow furrowed, grief rising from within.
He recalled her nightly songs, each one a confession of love, echoing endlessly in his soul.
He had once viewed the mortal world with cold detachment, refusing to leave any trace in the dust of humanity.
But now, he wavered.

In the spring’s embrace, Yinglong wished only to protect Hanba.
As the waters rose—was it the thaw of post-war snow, or the tears of a dragon who had finally wept?
No one could tell.
Even in the Sea Dragon King’s palace, no one could trace the source.

It is said that Yinglong, too, was touched by the chaos of the mortal realm and fell from grace, vanishing along Hanba’s path to the underworld.
Rumors speak of a northern Dragon Palace, where a bride of ethereal beauty is kept in the depths of the Dragon Spring Cave, tenderly guarded.
Whether she is Hanba… no one truly knows.