# Chapter 547: The Dragon's Sacred Cauldron
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 547 of "The Untouchable Ex Wife" — a chapter that takes us deep into the heart of a forbidden mountain, where an ancient secret waits beneath towering stone formations. Trust me, this one will have you holding your breath from start to finish!
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The night was silent, heavy with anticipation, as Stefan crouched behind a jagged rock formation, his eyes fixed on the cave entrance before him. Every muscle in his body was tense, coiled like a spring, as he awaited the one moment that would grant him access to the sacred space. He knew the security detail would be at its most vulnerable during their shift change—that precious window of distraction that Neil had told him about.
But he hadn't just memorized the timing; he understood the ritual too. The guards had a peculiar custom, one steeped in their ethnic heritage: before handing over their duties, they performed a Dragon Dance—a vibrant, sweeping tradition that seemed to summon both community and protection. It was the perfect cover.
From his hiding spot, Stefan watched with bated breath as six guards stationed at the cave entrance and six fresh guards preparing to take over suddenly burst into synchronized movement. Their bodies undulated like serpents, arms weaving through the air in patterns that told an ancient story. The atmosphere grew electric, filled with the rhythm of their feet and the energy of their dance.
*Now!*
Stefan didn't hesitate. While the guards were completely absorbed in their ritual, he slipped from his hiding place and darted toward the cave's side entrance. His footsteps were silent, his movements fluid—a shadow among shadows. In seconds, he had disappeared into the darkness beyond.
The cave was smaller than he had anticipated, yet it seemed to stretch endlessly into the mountain's heart. A single, lonely lamp cast weak light through the damp air, barely illuminating the path ahead. This was a karst cave, a natural wonder carved by centuries of dripping water and patient time. And what wonders it held!
All around him, stalactites hung from the ceiling like frozen chandeliers, each one shaped by nature into astonishing forms. There—a pig with its snout raised to the sky. There—a dog mid-bark, its stone fur seemingly ruffled by an ancient wind. A chicken, a goat, a tiger... Stefan moved slowly, his neck craning upward as he took in the entire procession of the twelve zodiac animals, each rendered perfectly in living rock.
"I'm sure there must be a dragon here," Stefan murmured to himself, a thrill of excitement racing through his veins. "It's one of the twelve zodiacs after all."
His heart pounded as he pressed deeper into the cave. Strange sounds echoed through the chambers—the distant trickle of running water that seemed to twist and curl in the darkness until it sounded less like a stream and more like the low, mournful cry of an ancient beast. A dragon's call. The hairs on Stefan's arms stood on end.
Finally, he reached the deepest part of the cave, and what he saw there stole the breath from his lungs.
The ceiling soared high above him here, higher than anywhere else in the cave, creating a natural cathedral of stone and shadow. And rising from the rocky floor was a stalactite that defied imagination—a formation over ten meters tall that had been sculpted by nature into the unmistakable shape of a dragon.
But not just any dragon. This one was magnificent.
A rich, golden hue seemed to glow from within the stone, as if the rock itself had absorbed the warmth of ancient sunlight. Its scales were perfectly defined, each one distinct and gleaming. A flowing beard cascaded from its majestic jaw, and its claws were curved and sharp, caught mid-motion as if the creature had been frozen while soaring through the sky. It hovered above a stone pillar, its body coiled elegantly in flight, looking for all the world like a celestial dragon that had been cursed by a powerful sorcerer and turned to stone. The craftsmanship—if such a thing could be called craftsmanship—was so perfect, so alive, that Stefan found it hard to believe nature alone had created it.
He stood beneath the magnificent creature, his head tilted back, utterly awestruck. This was it. This had to be it. The dragon he had been searching for.
But where was the dragon's saliva?
His eyes swept the cavern, searching desperately for any sign of the precious substance. Then, high above him, at the cave's highest point and positioned directly beneath the dragon's massive head, he spotted it—a small bronze cauldron, no bigger than his palm, held delicately within the dragon's stone claws. The pose was almost reverent, as if the great beast had paused mid-flight to drink from the tiny vessel.
Stefan's heart leaped. The dragon saliva! It had to be there, stored safely in that ancient cauldron, catching drops of the mystic liquid that might still drizzle from the dragon's petrified mouth. He knew there was no time to waste—the guards' dance would end soon, and discovery meant disaster. But the cauldron was so high up, far beyond his reach, perched at the very top of this towering stone beast.
He made a swift decision. Rolling up his sleeves and trousers to give himself maximum agility, Stefan spat on his palms and began to climb.
The dragon's body was long and twisted, spiraling upward in a challenging ascent that tested every sinew of his body. The stone was steep—impossibly steep in places—and slick with the cave's perpetually dripping moisture. What should have been a straightforward climb became a battle of pure will.
His fingers found purchase in the crevices between scales. His toes searched desperately for footholds on the slippery surface. He would gain a meter, then his grip would give out, and he would slide down, skin scraping against rough stone, cursing under his breath. He climbed and fell. Fell and climbed again. Each attempt left him more exhausted than the last, his muscles burning with strain and his confidence fraying with every painful slip.
But Stefan was not a man who gave up easily. Even as his arms trembled and his breath came in ragged gasps, he kept his eyes fixed on that small bronze cauldron, letting his determination fuel his weary body.
At long last, his hand closed over the dragon's upper body. He pulled himself up, chest heaving, and sat for a moment on the broad stone back, allowing himself a moment of triumph. Then, carefully, cautiously, he reached out and took the little cauldron from its resting place.
The vessel was light in his hands, surprisingly well-preserved for something so ancient. He peered inside and saw it—a clear liquid, shimmering faintly in the dim light. The dragon's saliva.
For a brief moment, Stefan simply stared at it, his mind racing with questions. Where did it come from? How had it survived so long in this remote place? But he had no time to unravel such mysteries. He clutched the small cauldron against his chest as if it were the most precious treasure in the world—because, to him, it was—and prepared to descend.
Then, a voice shattered the silence.
"Oh, my god! Man, you've got some guts!"
Stefan's blood ran cold. He looked down and saw Neil standing a few meters below, his face a mask of horror and disbelief. The man fell to his knees, clutching his head with both hands as if he were witnessing a catastrophe unfold in slow motion.
"I thought you were joking! I thought you'd come to your senses and go back!" Neil's voice was cracked with panic, his eyes wide as he stared up at Stefan, who was now perched on the sacred dragon like a blasphemer upon an altar. "You actually did it! The villagers are going to kill you for being disrespectful, I know they will!"
Stefan looked down at his friend—at least, he had considered Neil a friend, bound by their agreement and the map Neil had provided. But what he saw in Neil's eyes now wasn't betrayal. It was genuine fear. Real concern. Neil had shared the village's secrets in the hopes that Stefan would see reason, that the danger of the mountain paths and the strict security would deter him from this madness. And when that hadn't worked, when worry had gnawed at him, Neil had come up with an excuse to visit the memorial chamber, telling the guards he wished to pay his respects to the ancestors.
He had hoped to find Stefan lost in the cave, or perhaps turning back, his courage failing at the last moment.
Instead, he found him perched high atop the village's most sacred relic, clutching the dragon's cauldron in his hands like a trophy.
The tension in the cave thickened like fog. Outside, the Dragon Dance was drawing to a close. The guards would resume their positions at any moment. And if they discovered the sacrilege that had occurred within their holiest sanctuary, Stefan's life wouldn't be worth a single drop of that precious dragon saliva.
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
What a pulse-pounding chapter! The way the author builds the tension—from the clever distraction of the Dragon Dance to the breathtaking description of the zodiac cave and that magnificent golden dragon—had me completely spellbound. I could practically feel the slippery stone beneath Stefan's fingers and taste his desperation as he climbed higher and higher. The moment Neil appeared was an absolute heart-stopper! I found myself screaming internally at Stefan to hurry, to get down before the guards returned. The chapter perfectly balances ancient mystery with modern stakes, and the cultural details about the guards' ritual give it such a rich, authentic texture. The only reason I'm not giving this a perfect score is that I need MORE—I'm desperate to know how Stefan escapes this impossible situation!
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
Judging by Neil's terrified reaction, the villagers must consider climbing the sacred dragon a grave sacrilege that will bring doom upon their community. I predict that the guards will return from their dance and discover Stefan, triggering a tense and dangerous confrontation. Neil will likely find himself torn between protecting the man he helped and facing the wrath of his own people. Stefan must think fast—perhaps he can use the guards' fear of the dragon's power to his advantage, or maybe he'll have to escape the cave with the villagers hot on his trail, leading to a desperate chase through the treacherous mountain terrain that will test every ounce of his survival instinct.
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