"Rumor has it that this is where Long Sheng went into seclusion."
Ning Yi's voice carried an inexplicable trace of emotion.
Ye Lin said nothing.
Ning Yi was of the Dragon Clan. Seeing the place where the Dragon Clan's ancestor had cultivated in seclusion, it was only natural for him to feel something.
Unfortunately, Long Sheng had long since vanished. Yet the aura it left behind still coiled within that nest, like a slumbering emperor, allowing no being to profane its rest.
Ye Lin merely glanced at the nest and felt as though his Primordial Spirit had been seized by an invisible hand, making even breathing difficult.
That pressure was not deliberate, merely a lingering instinct—just as the bones of a giant dragon could still keep all races from drawing near after its death.
And Long Sheng's lingering aura alone was enough to make an entire world bow in submission.
Around the nest, countless dragon-shaped Dao inscriptions drifted through the Void.
Those inscriptions were a pure gold, taking countless forms. Some resembled True Dragons soaring through the heavens, some dragon claws tearing apart the sky, some dragon tails sweeping back and forth, and others dragon heads held high.
Like living creatures, they circled the nest. At times, they gathered together and condensed into ancient Dragon Clan seal-script characters. Ye Lin could not recognize a single one, yet he could clearly sense the supreme truths of the Great Dao contained within them.
At other times, they scattered into a rain of light that fluttered down, falling upon the dragon bones, the river of light, and the fire lotuses, dyeing the entire world gold.
And every time those Dao inscriptions flashed, the entire space of the Dragon Lair throbbed once like a heart.
It was a muffled boom from the depths of