East Sea, Crystal Palace.
Deep within the palace forged from ten thousand years of mystic ice, Ao Guang sat upright upon his dragon throne, his brow tightly furrowed.
The jade slip in his hand recorded the grim decline in the number of newborn dragon hatchlings within the clan over the past ten thousand years. Those shocking figures made even the dragon whiskers he had always been proud of tremble without wind.
Another full sixty years had passed.
The clan's fortune remained as stagnant as dead water, showing not the slightest improvement. Could the supreme glory established by their ancestors in the Primordial Age truly fade completely in his generation, becoming no more than a speck of dust in the annals of history? I have failed our ancestors.
He was called the Lord of the Four Seas, yet in truth, he was merely a prisoner kept by the Heavenly Court. This crown was less an honor than a shackle, reminding him at every moment of the Dragon Clan's humiliation. These endless years had been agonizing.
Just then.
An will descended without warning.
That will was neither the pressure of a saint nor an edict from the Dao Ancestor. It ignored the Crystal Palace's countless restrictions, bypassed the protective magic power of his Grand Unity Golden Immortal realm, and crashed directly into his True Spirit, gripping the deepest part of his bloodline.
What is this?! Which saint is toying with the Dragon Clan again? Or has the Heavenly Court sent down a new punishment?
The jade slip in Ao Guang's hand slipped free with a crack and shattered across the cold, hard crystal floor.
He did not even notice.
His immense, majestic body suddenly shuddered as the most primal trembling, born from the depths of his soul, seized his entire mind.
No... no, this isn't a saint's pressure. This aura... it is ancient, familiar, as if it is calling... calling to the source of my bloodline.
It was the absolute obedience of one below toward one above.
It was the instinctive awe that bloodline descendants felt toward their progenitor.
The dragon blood within him froze for an instant, then began boiling uncontrollably, roaring like crashing mountains and raging seas. It urged him, commanded him, to make the only correct response.
Kneel!
Worship!
No! I am the Dragon King of the East Sea, ruler of countless Water Tribe members, invested by the Heavenly Dao itself. How can I humble myself like this? My dignity, my throne... His reason resisted, but his bloodline cheered, urged him on, and trembled at the arrival of that will, like a wandering soul adrift for countless ages finally finding its home.
Reason screamed wildly in Ao Guang's mind, trying to preserve the last shred of dignity befitting the Lord of the Four Seas.
But his body honestly betrayed his will.
His legs gave way. His knees cracked under the strain, and he rolled uncontrollably from the dragon throne that symbolized supreme authority, crashing heavily to his knees.
His knees struck the hard crystal floor, leaving behind two spiderweb-like fractures.
"This... this... is..."
His face was filled with horror, and his voice trembled violently from overwhelming fear and excitement. Every word carried an uncontrollable quiver.
That pressure, that will...
It was too ancient.
Too pure.
The dominance and majesty contained within it were clearly the aura that only the Ancestral Dragon—the legend who had founded all the Dragon Clan's supreme glory—could possess! There could be no mistake! This was absolutely the power of the progenitor!
He burst from the Crystal Palace. His colossal dragon body stirred up a violent gale that sent the shrimp soldiers and crab generals before the hall tumbling in every direction.
He paid them no mind, only staring in horror toward the source of that dragon might—toward Kunlun Mountain.
"Old Ancestor... It is the Old Ancestor's aura!"
Ao Guang's voice shifted from initial shock into incredulous ecstasy.
"Could one of the Primordial Dragon Ancestors sleeping within the dragon graves of the Returning Ruins have sensed the Dragon Clan's decline and emerged from seclusion?!"
That was it!
It was absolutely the progenitor's majesty! The Dragon Clan had lain dormant for countless epochs, endured all the Heavenly Court's abuse, and suffered the Chan Sect's disdain. Had a turning point finally come?
Was it fortune or disaster? No matter what, it was better than lingering on in this state, awaiting death! This world was about to change!
"Quick! Go investigate!"
Ao Guang turned excitedly and roared his command at the turtle ministers, dragon sons, and dragon descendants behind him, who were likewise kneeling on the ground and trembling out of their wits.
"Spare no cost. Find the source of this dragon might!"
His voice carried a trace of sobbing that he could not suppress. His once-majestic dragon face was now filled with excitement, reverence, and desperate fervor.
"This must be an omen of the Dragon Clan's great revival!"
The turtle minister was also weeping with age. An unprecedented light burst from his clouded eyes as he nodded again and again, using all his strength to howl his response. Heaven has eyes! This old servant... I have finally lived to see this day!
"By your command, Your Majesty!"
After the Great Calamity of Dragon and Han, though the Dragon Clan remained nominally the Lord of the Four Seas, it had long since lost its former glory. They were restrained at every turn and lived in unbearable humiliation.
Now, the sudden emergence of an Old Ancestor with such a terrifying aura was nothing less than a shot in the arm, a life-saving medicine, for the entire Dragon Clan!
At the same time.
West Sea, South Sea, North Sea.
The same scene unfolded simultaneously within three equally magnificent yet deathly stagnant Crystal Palaces.
Dragon King Ao Run of the West Sea, Dragon King Ao Qin of the South Sea, and Dragon King Ao Shun of the North Sea—three Grand Unity Golden Immortals who could stir boundless waves with a mere stomp—were now sprawled on the ground as pathetically as the lowliest shrimp soldiers and crab generals, offering their highest reverence in the same direction.
Their faces bore the exact same complex expression as Ao Guang's, mingling fear, reverence, and fervor.
The three Dragon Kings dispatched their most trusted elites from their sea eyes to the Primordial Continent, determined to find traces of this "Old Ancestor" at any cost.
The entire Dragon Clan, an ancient war machine dormant for countless ages, was thoroughly stirred awake at this moment and regained its vitality.
They all regarded Yang Chen's transformation as the Dragon Clan's only hope for rising again.
They could never have dreamed.
This "Old Ancestor," whom they worshipped and were willing to seek at any cost, was the great creditor who had inherited the Dragon Clan's greatest karmic debt.
Not long ago, this "Old Ancestor" had just enraged their true Old Ancestor—the Ancestral Dragon Remnant Soul—until his logic collapsed, nearly causing him to disperse on the spot.
This absurd farce was filled with endless irony.
Meanwhile, Yang Chen, the one responsible, was leisurely rolling through the clouds around Kunlun Mountain, stretching his new body.
He relished the unprecedented sense of power brought by this ten-thousand-zhang dragon body, completely unaware of the drastic movements among the Dragon Clans of the Four Seas.
Or rather, even if he knew, he would not care. Go on, seek your hope. Open your sealed treasuries, reveal your final trump cards, and welcome your "Old Ancestor." This grand gift is simply far too amusing.
Before you continue