A resonating hum of ancient energy echoed through the forest as Long Tianyan stepped out of the dark tunnel. Behind him, the cave trembled faintly, still saturated with the divine pressure of the now-slain Abyssal Venommaw Beast and the lingering heat of the ancient formation that had reshaped Tianyan's body.
His figure was calm, his robe slightly torn, but his eyes—deep, tranquil, and piercing—held the stillness of storm-forged steel. A faint shimmer of nine-colored light still clung faintly to his skin before dispersing into the air.
Chen Xuanming, Chen Yixuan, and the other three core disciples immediately turned toward him, sensing the immense change. Their eyes widened, stunned speechless for a moment.
"Tianyan…" Chen Yixuan whispered.
Chen Xuanming was the first to regain composure, though awe still flickered in his gaze. "You… your cultivation has reached the 9th Layer of the Heavenly Passage Realm. And your aura—it doesn't feel human."
Tianyan gave a slight nod but did not speak immediately.
"I knew you were special," Xuanming added, voice low, "but this… it's like standing in the presence of something far beyond us."
One of the disciples beside them murmured, "That pressure just now—it wasn't just power. It was… lineage. Like the heavens themselves bowed to it."
"We tried to follow you," Chen Xuanming continued, "but the poison released by the Abyssal Venommaw Beast filled the tunnel completely. Even with our strength, we couldn't enter. We waited here, hoping…"
Tianyan's gaze softened slightly. "Thank you."
Xuanming reached into his storage ring and retrieved a piece of radiant green herb, pulsing with pure spiritual energy. "We managed to obtain the Emerald Soulgrass. You earned it more than any of us—take it."
But Tianyan shook his head gently. "No need. I have no use for it anymore."
Chen Yixuan's eyes widened. "But it helps in the breakthrough to the Spirit Transformation Realm!"
Tianyan's voice remained calm. "I have my own path. Keep the herb—it will be more useful to you."
A brief silence followed, a silence of respect more than awkwardness. His refusal was not pride, but sheer confidence—one built from the foundation of a dragon.
Meanwhile, far away in the Upper Realm, in a secluded divine valley filled with drifting motes of immortal essence, Zhou Li sat cross-legged atop a stone platform.
Suddenly, he stirred.
A wave of unimaginable pressure had rippled through space—not in the mortal world, not even in the Divine Realm—but from somewhere deeply bound to him. The scent of dragon flame. The aura of the imperial bloodline.
Zhou Li opened his eyes slowly, reverently.
"…It has begun," he whispered.
He stood, his long hair flowing in the spiritual breeze, his golden robes gently swaying. His twelve Supreme Realm subordinates stirred behind him, one of them asking carefully, "Lord Zhou, is something wrong?"
"No," Zhou Li said, eyes distant. "Something… right has happened."
He turned his gaze to the heavens, voice no longer the commanding tone of a revered cultivator, but laced with deep respect—almost devotion.
"That aura… even from across realms, I can feel it. Nine-colored dragon soul… the true imperial lineage. It is no illusion."
The subordinate's eyes widened. "Could it be—?"
"Yes." Zhou Li's voice dropped. "The Young Lord has awakened another part of his true power. That presence… I could never mistake it."
He bowed his head, both fists clasped in front of his chest.
"Your servant greets you from afar, my liege," he whispered solemnly, a fierce light in his eyes. "You carry the hopes of a race… and of those who once knelt before the throne you will one day reclaim."
He straightened, fire and resolve burning in his eyes. "The heavens may not yet know what has returned to this world. But they will."
Back in the forbidden forest, the air had grown quiet again.
Tianyan turned to leave, but Chen Xuanming spoke once more. "Tianyan… the way you fight, the way you walk—it's changed. You're not just a prodigy anymore."
"I'm still me," Tianyan replied softly. "But now, I walk a path only I can follow."
As he began to walk deeper into the forest, Chen Yixuan called out gently, "Tianyan… be careful. I know you say you don't need help, but even dragons sometimes have to rest their wings."
Tianyan paused, glancing back briefly, his voice quiet. "Then I'll rest when I'm strong enough that no one dares to harm those I care about."
With that, he vanished among the trees.
High above in the clouds, two streaks of light moved swiftly—one black, one white.
Yanlong, the black-robed dragon, looked down with a grim smile. "The Young Lord has refined his flesh. The platform worked."
Bailong, the white-robed dragon beside him, nodded. "His cultivation… it surged. The ninth layer already. And yet, that's only a fraction of the true power he holds."
"He is returning to the path," Yanlong said, his tone respectful. "He may be young in years, but his soul remembers the heavens."
Bailong's eyes narrowed. "The world will soon remember as well."
Back in the valley of the upper realm, Zhou Li stood alone atop the cliff, his long gaze sweeping the mortal world far below. Though distance separated them, the faint heartbeat of his Young Lord still echoed within his soul imprint.
"For ten thousand years… I waited," he murmured. "And now, your flame begins to rise again."
He knelt down on one knee, lowering his head. "This world may not know your name yet… but I do. And I will carve that name into heaven and earth again, even if the heavens themselves must bow."
The dragon had awakened.
And the world was about to change