Chapter Forty-Two: The Gathering of Powers (Part One)

The Mountain of Water and Fire towered high, its summit lost in the clouds, its sprawling ridges winding endlessly. On one side, fierce flames raged; on the other, a glacier plunged a thousand fathoms deep. Atop this mountain, an ice crystal throne, a hundred feet tall, reigned in solitary majesty.

Upon the throne sat Nan Luo. Her eyes, a mysterious and profound blue, swept over the assembled powers gathered from every corner. Yet, instead of launching a direct assault as Nan Luo had anticipated, the great powers joined forces to erect a barrier, sealing off the entire mountain.

Each faction’s palace shot a beam of golden light toward the peak, these rays combining to form a radiant barrier that enveloped the Mountain of Water and Fire. Nan Luo watched calmly as the powers completed the seal, locking the space around the mountain, her air light and untroubled.

It was precisely this effortless composure that gave the assembled powers pause, making them wary of acting rashly. After all, those who ruled the primordial wilderness were not prone to folly or recklessness.

In the face of Nan Luo’s serenity, the factions, led by the Dragon Clan, convened yet another Grand Assembly of the Myriad Tribes.

They had already held such a council once before, to discuss how to deal with Nan Luo. The primordial gods and demons, though innately violent and bloodthirsty, possessed unrivaled talent. Should such a being join any of the great powers, it would immeasurably strengthen them.

The Dragon Clan, for instance, had once taken in the Star Demon, granting him the title of Star Sovereign. With this new strength, the Dragons had annihilated all opposition in the Eastern Sea and steadily unified its domain.

With such a precedent, the other powers, too, coveted the prospect of recruiting a primordial demon. Yet, these beings were famously proud and untamable, rarely joining any faction. Apart from the Dragons, only the Phoenixes and the Qilin had managed to gain the allegiance of the Wind Demon and the Yin-Yang Demon, respectively.

Thus, opinions on Nan Luo split into three camps: the conciliators, led by the Dragons, Phoenixes, and Qilin; the advocates of destruction, led by the Lions, Titans, and the Puppet City; and the neutrals, led by the Central Wasteland Alliance and the Black Tortoise Clan.

In the midst of infinite auspicious clouds, a grand and ethereal divine hall hovered, magnificent and vast. Representatives of the great powers projected their wills into this virtual sanctuary.

The Virtual Divine Hall had been constructed precisely for such occasions, to allow the powerful to convene in spirit with ease, sidestepping the usual concerns of etiquette and protocol that physical meetings entailed. This convenience made the hall widely accepted among the denizens of the primordial world.

Representatives of the eight great powers—the Dragon Clan, Lion Clan, Phoenix Clan, Titan Clan, Qilin Clan, Central Wasteland Alliance, Puppet City, and Black Tortoise Clan—all projected their wills into the divine hall.

Above the hall hung a circular mirror, ten miles across, suspended in the air. The mighty sat upon their respective thrones, their gazes deep and inscrutable as they watched Nan Luo’s tranquil figure within the mirror.

Seeing Nan Luo’s unruffled demeanor, the Lion Clan’s Grand Elder, Lionheart, seated on his golden throne, pointed at the image and thundered, “Fellow lords! Such open contempt for us demands death!”

“Indeed!” intoned the Titan Clan’s High Priest, Mount Tai, his broad features cold as ice as he sat upon his ochre throne. “To defy the might of our eight clans so brazenly—if Nan Luo lives, our prestige is forfeit!”

“Ha!” The Qilin Clan’s Grand Elder, Fire Qilin, reclined upon his flaming throne and laughed lightly. “You two are making much ado about nothing.”

“How could a primordial demon who has yet to ascend to the rank of Sovereign threaten our divine authority?” Fire Qilin smiled. “And even if Nan Luo should become a Sovereign—would we fear him? Hahaha…”

His wild laughter echoed through the hall.

“You!” Lionheart and Mount Tai glared at Fire Qilin in unison, their voices cold.

From Lionheart’s golden pupils shot twin beams of light, hurtling toward Fire Qilin. In response, Mount Tai’s yellow eyes unleashed twin rays of ochre. Fire Qilin’s body was suddenly wreathed in even fiercer flames; from his eyes burst twin tongues of fire, meeting gold and ochre head-on.

Suddenly, the roar of a dragon rang out, as thunderous as a storm shaking the hearts of the gods. An invisible shockwave swept forth with inexorable might, instantly quelling the clashing beams of flame, gold, and ochre, which faded away under its assault.

“Dragon King’s Roar!”

At that moment, every representative recalled the name.

The Dragons were said to possess a hundred and eight divine arts, of which the Dragon’s Roar was the tenth—not for its raw power, but for its limitless potential. While many draconic arts required immense strength, the Roar was innate, growing stronger as the practitioner did—from the basic Divine Dragon Roar to the ultimate Dragon Sovereign’s Roar, its might increased without limit. Legend had it that the Dragon Chief, the Ancestral Dragon, could overturn the waters for thousands of miles with a single roar.

Thus, the Dragon’s Roar was counted as the tenth divine art.

Candle Dragon, as Grand Elder of the Dragon Clan and third brother to the Ancestral Dragon, had reached the peak of the Divine King realm. It was said that he had once slain a lower-ranked Sovereign of the Eastern Sea single-handedly, securing his place among the Dragons. Candle Dragon’s Dragon King’s Roar was little inferior to the Sovereign’s Roar itself, and even now, he deliberately restrained its power. Had he not, not only would the beams have vanished, but the entire Virtual Divine Hall would have been obliterated.

The mighty steadied their souls and cast complicated glances at Candle Dragon, inwardly praising, “Candle Dragon—truly the third mightiest of the Dragon Clan.”

Candle Dragon, clad in golden armor adorned with eight draconic claws, crowned with a matching helm, and seated upon an eight-clawed dragon throne, cut a most commanding figure.

“Gentlemen,” Candle Dragon addressed them, his tone calm as his gaze swept the hall, “we are here to confer, not to quarrel. If anyone wishes to fight, I, Candle Dragon, will gladly oblige after our discussions have concluded.”

His words, a blend of severity and conciliation, forced the others to set aside their disputes and return the focus to Nan Luo.

“As Lord Candle Dragon says, let us turn our attention to the matter at hand. But I wonder—what is your view, Lord Candle Dragon?” Lionheart asked, coldly regarding him.

Candle Dragon’s face remained impassive as he scanned the assembly. Pointing at the image of Nan Luo in the mirror, his tone was merciless: “Attack!”

Attack?

The gathered powers exchanged deep looks, each wondering why Candle Dragon, usually an advocate for conciliation, now called for a direct assault on Nan Luo.