Bio-engineered Dinosaur in the immortal world

Zou Fang stood among the crowd, surrounded by disciples—most of whom were aspiring breeders.

Some were fresh recruits, those who had only just yesterday earned their place as outer disciples.

He recognized some of their faces.

And they recognized him too.

Whispers erupted around him.

At first, just a murmur, but quickly turning into a steady buzz of hushed voices.

"That's him, right?"

"Yeah, Zou Fang. The one who—"

"The one who just stormed off yesterday!"

"He disrespected the Patriarch's speech!"

"Seriously! The Patriarch was explaining how the sect isn't just about fighting, and then this guy just walked out in the middle of it!"

"How arrogant!"

"How rude!"

"The sect is about balance, about harmony between cultivation and responsibility—and he just walked away like he didn't care!"

"Exactly! The Patriarch was sharing his wisdom, the essence of what it means to be a true cultivator, and Zou Fang acted like it was all nonsense!"

"He left without bowing! Without acknowledging the Patriarch's words!"

"He doesn't care about anything other than fighting!"

"That's why he's here, isn't he? He's not here to be a breeder, he probably just wants to challenge people again!"

"Hmph! He's wasting his time! Becoming a breeder isn't something you can just 'challenge' your way into!"

Zou Fang could hear every word.

And, well…

He couldn't exactly refute it.

He had stormed off.

But only because of Wei Long.

That lazy, sleepy dinosaur inside his spiritual sea of consciousness had simply told him to leave, saying—

"I don't want to hear some old man's nonsense. Let's go."

And well… Zou Fang wasn't about to ignore his master's orders.

Wei Long only ever woke up when food was involved.

If he was awake enough to complain about something, then it had to be something serious.

So, Zou Fang had left—and now, everyone hated him for it.

He sighed.

Before he could dwell on it any further, an old man appeared in front of the crowd.

The whispers died down slightly—but the old man was not having it.

His eyes flashed with authority.

And then—

"SILENCE!!!"

The word boomed like thunder.

A deep, powerful roar that shook the very ground beneath them.

The entire crowd froze.

The whispering vanished instantly.

A few disciples even staggered back, their ears ringing.

The old man cleared his throat.

"Good. Now that I have your attention," he said, his voice calmer but still firm, "let us give thanks for another new day in the sect."

He took a deep breath, glancing over the crowd.

"And let us give thanks," he continued, "for the sheer number of you who have chosen to pursue the noble path of breeding."

He smiled, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Or should I say… the number of you who have chosen to attempt to become temporal breeders."

Zou Fang noticed a few disciples shuffling uncomfortably.

The old man grinned knowingly.

"You all look nervous already," he chuckled. "Good. That means you understand."

His expression turned serious.

"Becoming a breeder is no simple task."

The crowd stiffened.

The old man began to explain.

"To become a true breeder in this sect, one must undergo years of training, multiple stages of examinations, and a deep understanding of the beast's way."

"But before one can even be considered for that path, one must first prove themselves worthy of a mere temporal breeder title."

He looked around, his gaze piercing.

"And let me tell you now—that alone is nearly impossible."

The disciples swallowed nervously.

The old man continued, "The path of a temporal breeder is one of hardship. It is not enough to simply 'like' beasts. It is not enough to simply feed them, or take care of them. That is the work of a servant."

"No."

"A breeder must understand beasts on a level deeper than anyone else. They must be able to communicate without words, to discern without being told, to sense without seeing."

"A true breeder can identify what a beast needs just by observing it for a few moments."

The crowd listened in silence, absorbing every word.

"In a battle, a cultivator fights alongside their beast. But what if the beast is unwell? What if it is starving? What if its energy flow is disrupted?"

"If a breeder cannot sense these things instantly, then the bond between them and their beast will be forever shallow."

"In the end, such a breeder is nothing more than a master holding a leash—and a beast on a leash is nothing more than a prisoner."

His words hung in the air.

Zou Fang, despite himself, found it strangely profound.

Then—

Inside his spiritual sea of consciousness—

Wei Long grumbled.

"This is stupid."

Zou Fang mentally sighed.

"We're not here to be breeders, dammit! We're here to find out what that tasty food was yesterday!"

Zou Fang resisted the urge to rub his temples.

Wei Long ranted on.

"If this stupid sect just had a shop that sold it, we wouldn't even be here!"

"Breeding beasts? Training them? Who cares?! I just want to eat!"

"If we find that food, I'll just make you buy it every day. Way easier than listening to this old man's nonsense!"

Zou Fang tried to tune him out, but Wei Long was still grumbling.

Back outside, the old man clapped his hands.

"Now," he said, "since so many of you wish to prove yourselves…"

His lips curled into a slight smirk.

"Today's test is simple."

The crowd held its breath.

The old man gestured—

And then—

A massive beast was dragged onto the stage.

Chains rattled as it struggled.

Its body was towering, covered in dark bristled scales.

Its face was long and lizard-like, sharp teeth bared in fury.

Its eyes burned with rage.

A deep, low snarl rumbled from its throat.

The disciples stiffened.

The old man grinned.

"Your task," he said, "is to determine what food to give this beast."

The old man gazed at the massive, chained lizard with something close to reverence. The beast, despite its anger and restlessness, carried a presence that commanded respect.

"You see this beast before you?" The old man's voice carried across the gathering, making sure everyone heard him clearly. "This is no ordinary creature. This is Angola—one of the great heroes of our sect!"

The disciples stiffened, some blinking in surprise.

"A… hero?" one of them whispered.

"I thought it was just some dangerous beast they brought out to test us…"

"Wait, how can a beast be a hero?"

The old man chuckled at their reactions.

"Ah, I see some of you are skeptical. That is understandable. But let me tell you now—without Angola, many of you might not even be standing here today."

The murmuring among the disciples grew louder. Some cast wary glances at the beast, who had lifted its head slightly, as if basking in the old man's words.

"Let me tell you why Angola is a hero," the old man continued, his tone taking on a weight of history. "You see, Angola is not a warrior. He has never set foot on a battlefield, nor has he ever taken down an enemy of the sect. But his contribution to us is immeasurable."

The disciples leaned in closer.

"Angola possesses a rare, nearly miraculous trait," the old man said. "He produces pheromones that have an extremely calming effect. This ability is not something you will find in any ordinary beast. When exposed to Angola's pheromones, even the most traumatized minds can find peace."

The murmurs among the disciples intensified.

"Traumatized…?"

"Does that mean…?"

"Yes," the old man nodded, as if reading their thoughts. "There have been many battles in the history of our sect. There have been disciples who have witnessed horrors, who have lost comrades, who have fallen into despair."

His voice grew softer.

"And there have been those… who have lost everything."

The crowd grew quiet. Even the most arrogant among them couldn't deny that war left behind more than just scars on the flesh.

"There are those who wake up screaming in the night," the old man continued, "those whose hands tremble at the mere thought of picking up a weapon again… those who lose themselves to fear and grief."

The weight of his words settled over the crowd.

"But Angola… Angola's presence has saved them."

The massive lizard seemed to understand it was being praised, for it slowly raised its head, its posture shifting from restrained anger to something more… dignified.

It sat there, towering above the crowd, yet carrying itself not like a monster, but like a guardian.

"Those who spend time near Angola find themselves able to breathe again. To rest again. To move forward again," the old man said. "His pheromones do not erase pain… but they make it bearable."

Inside the spiritual sea of consciousness, Wei Long let out a snort.

"So what you're saying is… it's a fat lizard that makes people feel sleepy?"

Zou Fang almost choked.

Wei Long wasn't done.

"Look at that thing."

Wei Long's voice dripped with disdain as he continued his brutal assessment.

"Its belly is round, its legs are stubby, and its scales don't even look like they've seen real combat. It's been living the good life, hasn't it? Sitting around, making people drowsy while getting fed every day?"

Zou Fang internally sighed.

"And those chains?" Wei Long scoffed. "That thing isn't even struggling that hard. If it really wanted to break free, it could've tried way harder. It's acting up just to put on a show."

Zou Fang tried not to show any reaction, but inside, Wei Long kept ranting.

"That's a beast that's been spoiled rotten. It doesn't fight, it doesn't hunt, it just sits there and eats."

Wei Long paused.

And then—

"Actually, now that I think about it… that doesn't sound so bad."

Zou Fang mentally groaned.

Wei Long smirked.

"Maybe I should make you carry me around in chains and feed me all day too."

Zou Fang shut off the link.

Back outside, the old man had pulled out something from his robe—

A small, golden snack.

Zou Fang's eyes widened.

It was the same snack Wei Long had eaten yesterday.

The tasty snack.

The snack that made Wei Long force Zou Fang to come here in the first place.

The old man held it up for all to see.

"Now then," he said, "let us begin."

He approached Angola, raising the snack toward the beast's mouth.

The massive lizard sniffed the air.

Then, with a slow movement, it opened its maw—

And took the snack in.

A brief silence.

And then—

CRUNCH.

The lizard chewed.

CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.

The disciples watched intently.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Then—

PTOO!

The lizard spat it out.

The snack landed on the ground, half-chewed and covered in saliva.

Inside the spiritual sea of consciousness, Wei Long erupted.

"WHAT?!"

Zou Fang winced.

"THIS DAMN LIZARD DARED TO SPIT OUT THE HOLY SNACK?!"

Wei Long sounded personally offended.

"WHO DOES IT THINK IT IS?!"

Meanwhile, the old man simply chuckled.

"As expected," he said.

He turned to the crowd.

"This," he said, gesturing to the spat-out snack, "is why Angola is special. Unlike ordinary beasts, Angola does not eat just anything."

He waved a hand—

And from the side, sect servants stepped forward, carrying trays filled with various plant leaves.

"Angola requires special food. Natural food. These leaves are what he eats—each one different, each one carefully cultivated. But among them, there is one that Angola loves most of all."

The old man turned back to the crowd, his eyes glinting.

"And here is where your test begins."

The disciples held their breath.

The old man smiled.

"This," he said, "is a bonus round."

Gasps.

"If any of you," the old man continued, "can successfully determine which plant is Angola's favorite, and feed it to him—making him release his calming pheromones—then you will immediately be granted the title of temporal breeder."

The disciples stared in shock.

"Wait—"

"Seriously?!"

"This test… actually means something?!"

The excitement grew rapidly.

"This is insane!"

"They're actually giving us a chance to become temporal breeders instantly?!"

"But why?"

"Why would they do this? What's the catch?"

"Doesn't this test take months to complete normally? Why are they letting us do it here?"

"Something's off… there has to be a reason!"

The old man only smirked.