In a corner of the Northwest Continent lay the Imperial Capital of the Jiama Empire.
At that moment, the Imperial Capital showed none of its former prosperity. Its streets and alleys were deathly quiet, without a soul in sight. A red dragon over a thousand meters long soared overhead, its slender Eastern dragon body combined with the batlike wings of a Western dragon, giving it an imposing, majestic appearance.
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled through the endless dark clouds, as though heaven itself were raging above the dim earth. The dragon's body appeared and disappeared among the clouds, fleeting flashes of golden lightning illuminating its fierce crimson scales and lending it an overwhelming presence.
Not a single person could be seen in the enormous city. It resembled a ghost town. From the three renowned great families of the Imperial Capital to the countless commoners, everyone trembled beneath the terrifying, godlike pressure of Osiris the Sky Dragon, living in constant fear.
On the blue crystalline gem embedded in Osiris the Sky Dragon's head, a boy with an unusual tricolored hairstyle sat leaning back, gazing down at the dark landscape with a complicated expression. Behind him stood another boy who looked remarkably similar but more mature, surveying the scene below with an indifferent face.
Thousands of Mist Cloud Sect disciples in plain white robes, all at least Dou Shi, surrounded the magnificent, towering imperial palace so tightly that nothing could get through. At their feet lay the bodies of guards loyal to the Jiama Royal Family. Scarlet blood stained the palace's stone paving bright red, adding a grim weight to halls with centuries of history.
Jia Xingtian, the empire's guardian, lay helpless on the ground. His cold, piercing, hawklike eyes remained fixed on his old acquaintance, and the blood on his face