However, during a mission, his impulsiveness led to him being shot by a sniper, resulting in his heroic death.

But his life didn't end there. He was reborn, though in the body of a lizard. Brandon had experienced despair, helplessness, and fear. He had even contemplated suicide but managed to survive, eventually transforming into a dragon.

As for becoming human again, that desire had faded. Whether he could change back or not no longer mattered. He increasingly identified with the dragon race, feeling the instincts of his dragon body influencing him deeply.

A complex expression flashed in Brandon's eyes as he thought of the old monk. If any human held significant importance in his heart, it was the old monk. Brandon was an orphan and had never known his biological parents. The old monk had raised him, becoming a parental figure to Brandon.

So many years had passed. How are you doing?

Tears the size of fists welled up in Brandon's eyes and fell to the ground, shattering on impact.

Even as a dragon, Brandon couldn't forget the kindness of the old monk who raised him. He had always wanted to return and see the old monk, but he had used his lack of strength as an excuse.

He knew he was avoiding reality. Facing the old monk as a dragon was daunting. He longed to see the monk but was also terrified.

With these thoughts, Brandon hesitated, caught in an intense inner struggle. He was now so powerful that he feared no threats. The Golden Bell inside him gave him immense confidence. He believed that unless directly hit, he could even survive a nuclear blast, though he might be severely injured. But he wouldn't die.

Brandon stood up, his massive body moving through the cave. He felt restless and agitated. He left the cave and flew outside, the ground shrinking beneath him. A sense of grandeur filled his heart. He let out a mighty roar, a long dragon's cry that echoed across the island. The beasts fled, causing a commotion in the forest. The weak trembled and prostrated themselves, while even the strong showed a flicker of fear.

Brandon's eyes, like searchlights, became sharp again. A powerful and majestic aura emanated from him, like an insurmountable mountain. A sense of dominance subtly appeared around him. He had finally overcome this mental barrier, and his heart was clear. He had no more hesitation. With a powerful flap of his wings, he soared into the sky.

He was like a fearless warrior, his gaze sharp, akin to a soldier heading to battle with no regard for death. Brandon ascended quickly, piercing through the clouds. The blue sky darkened to a deep navy, clear and pure.

Brandon continued to fly forward. The enormous sun overhead moved slowly, but the sky grew increasingly dark. The environment became harsh, with terrifying winds that nearly made Brandon's body sway uncontrollably, threatening to tear him apart. The air grew thin, making it difficult for Brandon to breathe.

As he flew, Brandon saw the moon on the horizon, enormous in size. The moon and the sun both appeared in the dark sky simultaneously, but Brandon had no interest in admiring this rare sight. He could no longer ascend; the vacuum of space was too much for him. His breathing became labored, and his strength started to wane. He descended, heading toward his destination.

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It was already evening as Brandon soared through the clouds. Even at tens of thousands of meters high, his massive body was just a tiny speck against the sky.

Brandon flew quickly, his sharp eyes scanning below. The cities looked like huge blocks, with countless small dots moving slowly along the streets. In the years since he had last seen them, the cities had changed significantly—taller and more beautiful.

Countless cities passed beneath him as Brandon streaked across the sky like a meteor. Slowly, his speed decreased. Approaching home brought mixed emotions, causing Brandon to hesitate. But he quickly steeled himself, deciding that a distant glance at the old monk would suffice.

He waited as the sky darkened, lights illuminating the landscape. The bright lights made Brandon feel a deep loneliness.

Since arriving, Brandon had become unexpectedly sentimental. Shaking his head, he tried to dispel these thoughts. Night had fallen, the perfect time for him to act.

Brandon's massive body descended slowly. This wasn't a towering mountain or a steep peak, just a small hill. The temple here wasn't famous or grand, just an old, dilapidated structure with little incense or visitors. It was where Brandon and the old monk had once lived.

Brandon clearly remembered that when it rained, they couldn't sleep because the heavy rain outside meant light rain inside. The old monk would hold him, huddling in a corner of the temple all night. Despite the hardships, the memory felt warmly nostalgic now.

Brandon's large body landed gently on the small hill, known by a grand name—Emei Shang. Of course, it couldn't compare to the real Mount Emei.

The hill remained unchanged, with sparse trees that looked like shrubs to Brandon. The area was dotted with graves, something that had terrified Brandon as a child.

It was now nighttime, and the graves occasionally flickered with ghostly lights. But to a dragon, ordinary spirits were laughable. Brandon had never seen a real ghost; if not for his inherited memories, he wouldn't believe in their existence.

Everything here was deeply familiar to Brandon, every inch marked by his footsteps. Seeing these familiar sights, his eyes grew moist, and his steps slowed. But even slow steps reach their destination, especially a dragon's steps.

Before long, Brandon saw the temple come into view. Darkness was no obstacle for his vision. His heart tightened as he noticed the temple was in worse condition than before. He clearly saw that one corner had collapsed, making it uninhabitable.

Brandon couldn't concern himself with anything else at this point. He hurried forward, each step causing a thunderous noise. Despite the loud sounds, the temple remained still, which filled Brandon with a sense of foreboding.

When he reached the temple, he saw the vegetable garden in front of it overrun with weeds, clearly abandoned. There was no sign of anyone. A look of confusion crossed Brandon's eyes. There was no one here. Could it be that the old monk had already...?

Brandon couldn't bear to finish the thought. He frantically searched for any trace of the old monk. With a gentle push, the temple collapsed in a heap. A flicker of reluctance flashed in his eyes, but he quickly steeled himself. He searched through the ruins but found no sign of the old monk, not even a piece of his clothing. All that remained were a single cabinet and a few chairs, lying forlornly on the ground.

He then searched every grave on the small hill. Thankfully, he didn't find anything. Brandon breathed a sigh of relief; not finding anything meant there was still hope.

Standing on the small hill, Brandon began to recall where the old monk might have gone. Suddenly, he remembered a conversation from his childhood when he had asked the old monk why he was so skilled in martial arts. The old monk had smiled bitterly and explained that he had once been a monk at the Shaolin Temple but had left due to certain reasons and might never be able to return.

An idea began to form in Brandon's mind. Could the old monk have returned to the Shaolin Temple?

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. The old monk had no family except for Brandon. At least, Brandon had never seen anyone visit him. If not the Shaolin Temple, there seemed to be nowhere else he could have gone.

Without hesitation, Brandon lifted off the ground, flapping his wings powerfully as he soared into the sky.