The place called home by the Giant Dragon, his Burial Ground, was a primordial jungle hidden deep in the mountains. As Lyle stepped onto the damp soil that would ooze water with each step, a thick and heavy grassy odor assaulted his nostrils. Nameless broad-leaved plants further condensed the moist air, their verdant leaves mottled with a waxy yellow hue, and the greasy substance oozing from the twists in the wood might be one of the culprits further muddying the air.
It was like a swamp here, a strange swamp where the trees only reached as high as one's calves.
"Ancient ferns, large ancient ferns. These are living fossils, Lyle." Mr. Zhiyan extended his palm, fondly caressing the sticky resin on the surface of the trunks that piled up like insect egg sacs. Watching the snot-like substance stick to his hand, Mr. Zhiyan's zeal dissipated, "They hold no value in carrying knowledge. But their presence still exhilarates me."
