Apocalyptic Dragon Riders

Chapter 14

Lin Mo was just an ordinary college senior in Hangzhou. After his parents divorced and went their separate ways, they left him a tiny apartment in the city to live on his own. He worked part-time jobs to cover living expenses and tuition.

He was also a passionate cosplayer — a skilled prop maker who often joined a group called “GodWar Squad” for cosplay performances. It was a way to earn a little extra money, and he had even won a few awards.

Just a week before graduation, Lin Mo had passed the Air Force’s pilot selection program — a process far more demanding for university students than for high school recruits. At first, he’d only signed up on a whim, never thinking he’d actually make it through the grueling political vetting, psychological tests, and physical exams. Yet a few days later, an official acceptance letter arrived in the mail. Soon, he was going to be a real Air Force pilot.

Tomorrow — the day after the cosplay competition — he was supposed to pack his bags and report to the Air Force Aviation University.

But fate had other plans.

Just a few days earlier, while crossing an intersection, a commercial van ran a red light and barreled straight toward him.

A young girl next to him was too busy staring at her phone to notice. Lin Mo didn’t even think — he shoved her out of the way with all his strength. She was thrown clear, completely unharmed.

He wasn’t so lucky.

The van slammed into him head-on, hurling him several meters through the air.

The driver, terrified, didn’t stop — didn’t even get out of the car. He spun the wheel, floored the gas pedal, and vanished, leaving no time for anyone to even catch the license plate number.

Two other pedestrians rushed to help Lin Mo off the ground. Aside from torn clothing, some bleeding scrapes, and a few bruises, he seemed fine. His head was clear, and after resting for a moment, he could stand and even walk.

Fortunate, he thought. Miraculous, even.

And since he had a cosplay competition to prepare for, he didn’t bother going to the hospital — no time for doctors, needles, or bills.

The girl he’d saved? She didn’t even thank him before disappearing. Lin Mo didn’t hold a grudge — maybe she’d been too scared to think straight.

Feeling lucky to be alive, Lin Mo cursed the runaway driver a few times with the other bystanders, reported the incident to a nearby traffic warden, and then went on his way. When the police eventually found the van, the insurance company would handle compensation. Whether the driver got his license revoked or was arrested — that was someone else’s problem.

But what Lin Mo didn’t realize was that the impact had left more than just bruises.

He’d taken internal injuries — subtle but worsening over time. And though he occasionally felt off, he dismissed it. “I passed the Air Force physical,” he told himself. “I must be fine.”

If he had gone to the hospital right away, gotten the scans, taken the medicine, maybe had a minor operation — he could have been back to full health after a couple of months of rest.

But he didn’t.

And on the morning of the cosplay competition, just after leaving his apartment, those hidden injuries finally caught up with him.

In full samurai costume, phone in hand, he suddenly collapsed in a narrow alleyway.

Too late, he realized the accident had been far more serious than he thought.

Then —

A black hole tore open in the wall behind him, sucking away the sunlight and plunging the alley into near-night.

A flash of gold shot through the darkness — a humanoid silhouette wrapped in golden light — and slammed straight into him.

It was like two overlapping shadows merging into one.

For an instant, Lin Mo’s body turned into particles of light and mist, breaking apart and reforming. He felt both emptier and… more whole.

And just as suddenly as it came, the black hole vanished — as if the entire event hadn’t lasted more than the flap of a fly’s wings.

The alley was bright again, quiet again — except that the man lying on the ground was no longer dressed in cosplay. His armor had completely changed.

Somewhere, perhaps, a god was watching — guiding this moment.

Lin Mo’s memories and the soul of the golden figure were fusing together. Two people from two different worlds were now one — not just “soul resonance,” but something far deeper, a perfect synchronization of being.

Call it fate.

Call it destiny.

The man who now stood by the riverbank was no longer just Lin Mo.

He was also Mo Lin.

Mo Lin stared across the Qiantang River at the distant city lights, expression unreadable. He reached into the chest compartment of his armor and drew out a metal egg.

Dragon eggs were never small — even the tiniest stood taller than a seven-year-old child. This one was no exception. He refused to believe that his dragon, Goldcoin, would ever give him some palm-sized trinket. Goldcoin was male, for one — and yet, somehow, Mo Lin knew this egg was connected to him.

The injuries — the ones Lin Mo had been carrying — were gone. Wiped away the moment Mo Lin had fused with him.

But so was almost all of his strength.

Once, Mo Lin had nearly reached the peak of Ninth Rank — a holy warrior whose battle aura rivaled the paladins of the divine courts.

Now, all he had left was a faint flicker of battle qi, barely enough to light up the runes on his armor.

That sword strike onstage had drained him almost completely — as though reminding him of the power he once commanded, but could no longer wield freely.

Perhaps that was the price of his new body — of having the old injuries erased.

No such thing as a free lunch.

That was true in his old world. And it was true here.

This was a strange world.

His first impression: the air was foul. The food looked refined, but somehow didn’t feel “real.” The way people lived was alien to him. There were no kings, no emperors — power here was measured in money. Social interaction was sharp, slick, and often deceitful — even more so than the bureaucrats back in the Empire.

Its wars were vast, yet fought in an entirely different way. The age of swords and spears was over, replaced by weapons that could turn commoners into soldiers overnight. Everything revolved around tools — tools of staggering ingenuity, far more advanced than anything in his old world.

And soon, he realized, he would be part of that power — part of this country’s air force.

Here, warriors didn’t ride dragons or giant thunderbirds.

They flew machines — “airplanes” — mechanical warbeasts that could soar faster and strike harder than many of the flying mounts he’d known.

And at the top of their arsenal was a weapon that could annihilate entire cities: the “nuclear warhead.” Even the most bloodthirsty tyrant dared not use it recklessly, for it could destroy not only the enemy — but themselves.

RUMBLE!

A long white line appeared on the surface of the river, racing from east to west.

On the dike, patrolmen in red armbands began shouting and waving glow sticks. Their loudspeakers blared:

“The tide’s coming! Get off the dike! Run!”

Mo Lin recognized them from Lin Mo’s memories — river safety patrols.

He didn’t move.

He remembered standing shirtless on slick sea rocks during a storm, dragon-slaying sword in hand, as waves taller than houses crashed down on him — and he never took a step back.

What was there to fear from a little river tide?

The Qiantang tidal bore — famed across the nation, devourer of countless lives every year — came surging forward like a galloping herd of horses. The wall of water, several meters high, grew taller as the narrowing riverbanks funneled its power. Occasionally, waves leapt high enough to spray dozens of meters into the air.

“That kid’s done for!” one of the patrolmen shouted, squinting into the dark. His aging eyes couldn’t make out the armor — or he’d have been even more shocked.

Maybe, in another world, Aka and Captain Gedel had already escaped the killing radius of the “Space Prison” spell.

But the emperor of the Slane Empire… forgive me, Your Majesty. I can no longer serve you.

And my brothers of the Dragonrider Legion — farewell.

Mo Lin turned away from the river and began walking. The old world was gone. Forever.

All he had left was this new identity — Lin Mo — and this new life.

The Space Prison’s forbidden curse did not spare its targets. Either they were torn to shreds instantly — or cast forever into the chaotic void between worlds.

Perhaps others, like him, had been thrown into new worlds. But to find a way back?

Almost impossible.