In the southern reaches of the Northern Netherworld Domain, by the shores of the Silver-Scaled Sea, stood an ancient Demon Race Aristocratic Clan with a heritage spanning over ten thousand years.
It was known to the world as the Silver-Scaled Flood Dragon Clan.
Under the steaming sunlight, countless figures came and went within the sprawling complex, yet the atmosphere remained unnaturally frigid, without the slightest semblance of daytime.
Even the once-clear sky had quietly darkened.
For two consecutive days, thick black clouds had hung over the Silver-Scaled Sea like an inescapable shadow, bringing an oppressive sense that a storm was about to break.
This could not help but leave outsiders puzzled. With a clan leader at the Extreme Realm Peak holding the fort, and the eldest young lady who was soon to take power having recently broken through into the Extreme Realm ahead of the rest—
Once the second young lady, Ao Xue, also broke through into the Extreme Realm, the relationship between the Flood Dragon Race and the Heavenly Flood Dragon Hall would grow ever closer, and their voice in the southern Northern Netherworld Domain would carry even greater weight.
What sort of force would dare provoke such a colossus as the Flood Dragon Race?
At this moment.
Within the main courtyard, over a hundred Flood Dragon Race attendants stood as silent as cicadas in winter. Even their steps as they entered and left were cautious and hurried.
Inside the room they moved in and out of, three influential figures of the Silver-Scaled Sea—rarely seen in ordinary times—could vaguely be glimpsed.
One of them, a flood-dragon-headed man in a dark-gold robe, sat in the seat of honor. His figure was illusory, as strange as a yin spirit leaving the body.
He gently swayed the teacup in his hand. Before