Luo Zhen's expression was a mask of grim determination. Green light flickered across his skin, knitting together torn flesh as he hurtled through the air, pushing his velocity to the breaking point.
The bluff had failed. Spectacularly.
He had banked on his acting skills—skills honed over a lifetime of navigating the treacherous currents of the cultivation world—to intimidate True Person Qing Yang. Luo Zhen considered himself a seasoned performer, capable of feigning strength when weak and weakness when strong. But he had underestimated his audience. Not only had Qing Yang seen through the charade, but the old monster had also played along, lulling Luo Zhen into a false sense of security before launching a devastating sneak attack.
"I should have known," Luo Zhen gritted out, the wind whipping his words away. "Anyone who has survived centuries in this dog-eat-dog world isn't just powerful; they are cunning, paranoid, and deeply cynical. The naive don't live long enough to grow old in the cultivation world."
He pushed the pain of his injuries to the back of his mind. Regret was a luxury he couldn't afford; survival was the only metric that mattered.
He needed a strategy, and he needed it now. Qing Yang was relentless, an apex predator who wouldn't stop until he had consumed Luo Zhen's essence. To shake a monster like that, Luo Zhen couldn't just run; he had to change the game. He needed to divert the disaster. He needed a scapegoat.
"Divert the trouble to the East," Luo Zhen mused, his eyes narrowing as a plan formed.
It was a tactic he had employed countless times before. When the water is too clear, you are an easy target. But if you muddy the waters, if you introduce chaos and bigger predators, you create an opening to slip away.
"The Silver Flood Dragon Clan," he thought, a cold smirk touching his lips. "They are the perfect anvil for this hammer."
The Silver Flood Dragons were the undisputed hegemons of the island, a clan of immense power and arrogance. More importantly, they shared a blood feud with Qing Yang. It was their leader, the Silver Flood Dragon Emperor, who had led the coalition to seal Qing Yang away years ago.
"I won't even need to lie to them," Luo Zhen calculated. "The moment Qing Yang sees them, his vendetta will take over. And considering the Silver Emperor also besieged Bai Susu, bringing a calamity to their doorstep feels like poetic justice. Consider it interest paid on an old debt."
Decision made, Luo Zhen banked hard, adjusting his trajectory toward the distant coastline.
As he flew, he let the human guise melt away. His body elongated, scales erupted from his skin, and with a thunderous crack, he reverted to his true form. A magnificent Green Flood Dragon, over two hundred meters long, dominated the sky. He surged forward, his serpentine body cutting through the air with terrifying speed.
He was careful, however, to restrain his full power. He kept his second head hidden. A two-headed dragon was a legendary anomaly that would draw too much attention, perhaps even more than he wanted. For now, appearing as a powerful, singular Green Flood Dragon was enough to serve his purpose.
Behind him, a streak of black light tore through the sky. True Person Qing Yang, sensing the sudden transformation ahead, let out a string of curses that shook the clouds.
"Dammit! You aren't human at all!" Qing Yang's voice boomed, thick with disgust. "You're a wretched worm! A Green Flood Dragon! I despise your kind above all else!"
Despite the insults, Qing Yang didn't slow down. If anything, his lust for the kill intensified.
The chase stretched across the desolate expanse of the Red Desert. Luo Zhen was pushing his limits, maintaining a velocity that defied his cultivation level. Behind him, Qing Yang's initial rage gave way to grudging astonishment.
"How does this bastard have such deep reserves of demonic energy?" Qing Yang wondered aloud, his eyes tracking the serpentine form ahead. "He is merely at the mid-stage of the Demon King realm. By all rights, he should be exhausted. Yet he's maintaining speeds rivaling a fourth-tier Demon Emperor. Does he possess some ancient artifact? A limitless battery of Qi?"
The confusion only fueled his greed. Whatever secret the dragon held, Qing Yang would rip it from his corpse.
Ahead, Luo Zhen was burning resources at a frightening rate. Clutched in one claw was a Top-Grade Spirit Stone, which rapidly dimmed as he drained its essence. But the stone was merely a supplement. The real engine driving his flight was the Return Origin Crimson Fire burning within his core, a perpetual cycle of regeneration that allowed him to keep the Wind Escape Talisman active far longer than any ordinary cultivator could dream of.
Finally, the endless red sands gave way to the deep, rhythmic blue of the ocean.
Luo Zhen flared his nostrils, taking in the briny air. It was thick with humidity, salt, and the unmistakable, pheromonal scent of dragon-kind.
This was it. The domain of the Silver Flood Dragons.
"ROAR!"
Luo Zhen unleashed a primal bellow that shook the heavens. He didn't just enter the territory; he invaded it. He dove toward the surface, whipping his massive tail to churn the ocean into a frenzy. Waves rose like mountains, and the sky darkened as he manipulated the atmospheric pressure to summon a storm.
He wasn't hiding anymore. He was knocking on the door with a sledgehammer.
"Who dares desecrate the sanctuary of the Silver Flood Dragon Clan!?"
The ocean surface erupted. A massive Crab General, clad in natural armor and wielding a jagged spear, rose from the depths, flanked by a battalion of aquatic demons. They emerged ready for war, but their aggression instantly faltered when they laid eyes on the two-hundred-meter monstrosity looming above them.
The Crab General's mandibles clicked in terror. He sensed the oppressive aura of the Demon King realm radiating from Luo Zhen. In the strict hierarchy of the ocean, a Flood Dragon was royalty, and a Demon King was a god. Even though Luo Zhen was green and not silver, the bloodline pressure was undeniable.
"G-Great King," the Crab General stammered, his bravado evaporating. "To what do we owe this... visit? This is the sovereign territory of the Silver Clan."
"I am the Green Scale Dragon," Luo Zhen boomed, his voice rolling like thunder. "I have come to deliver a warning. Go! Fetch a King-level leader immediately. A catastrophe is descending upon your heads!"
The Crab General, terrified by the prophecy of doom, turned to dive back into the depths to relay the message. But before he could submerge, three columns of water exploded upward, shooting a hundred meters into the air.
Atop each pillar stood a figure cloaked in silver robes. They were elegant, imperious, and radiating the power of the Demon King realm—two at the early stage, one at the mid-stage.
"There is no need for messengers," the central figure said, his voice cool and detached. "We sensed the disturbance from the Crystal Palace. Speak, outsider. Where do you come from, and why do you disturb our peace?"
Luo Zhen opened his mouth to reply, but the air behind him suddenly screamed.
He snapped his head back. On the horizon, the black comet of True Person Qing Yang had arrived. The dark energy dissipated, revealing the old monster in all his grotesque glory. His severed limbs had regenerated, but the effort had drained him; his skin was pale, his aura slightly unstable. But his eyes were burning with manic malice.
"Hah! I knew it!" Qing Yang's voice grated like stones grinding together. "You fled to your kin. A reunion of worms!"
Qing Yang's gaze shifted from Luo Zhen to the three silver-robed princes standing atop the water pillars. He inhaled deeply, savouring the scent, and his expression twisted into a predatory grin.
"Pure-blooded Silver Flood Dragons," Qing Yang whispered, his voice trembling with delight. "You smell just like that old loach, the Silver Emperor. Disgusting. Delicious."
"Audacious!" cried the central prince.
"You dare insult the Imperial Father?" screamed the one on the left.
"Die, you withered mongrel!"
The three princes, accustomed to absolute deference within their domain, did not hesitate. They wove their hands in complex seals, summoning torrents of hydro-energy that coalesced into glowing spears and crushing waves, aiming to obliterate the disrespectful intruder.
Qing Yang threw his head back and laughed—a sound devoid of sanity.
"Ignorant children. You don't know how high the sky is or how thick the earth is. Since you are in such a hurry to die, I will use you as an appetizer!"
He didn't bother to dodge. He simply waved a withered arm, and three arcs of black energy—the Yin Demon Slash—tore through the air.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The outcome was instantaneous and brutal. The elaborate water spells of the princes shattered like glass. The black arcs continued without pausing, slicing through the defensive barriers and the bodies of the three princes.
There was no time for regret. Three screams were cut short as the princes exploded into a mist of blood and silver scales. The shockwave of the attack rippled outward, atomizing the Crab General and his squad of soldiers instantly.
Above the bloody mist, Qing Yang reached out a hand, telekinetically snatching a chunk of flesh from one of the fallen dragons. He popped it into his mouth, chewing with sickening relish, his eyes scanning the horizon for his original prey.
But Luo Zhen was gone.
Taking advantage of the slaughter, Luo Zhen had reverted to his human form and plunged into the ocean, suppressing his aura to zero. He watched from the depths, heart pounding. He knew his role here was done; fighting Qing Yang was suicide. Only the Silver Emperor stood a chance.
Above the waves, Qing Yang swallowed the bloody morsel and wiped his mouth. He looked at the spot where Luo Zhen had vanished and sneered.
"Go ahead," he muttered to the empty ocean. "Fetch your Emperor. I may be at half strength, but slaughtering a nest of snakes requires no effort at all."
Luo Zhen dove deeper, the water pressure building around him as he descended toward the ocean floor.
Soon, the darkness gave way to a glowing ethereal light. A massive Crystal Palace sprawled across the seabed, a testament to the wealth and power of the Silver Flood Dragon Clan.
In the vast plaza before the palace gates, a grand banquet was in full swing. The attendees were the elite of the clan—half-human Demon Generals and fully transformed Demon King nobles. At the head of the gathering, seated on thrones of coral and gold, were the elders.
They were ancient beings radiating the terrifying pressure of the Demon Emperor realm. In the center sat the patriarch, the Silver Flood Dragon Emperor, a man of regal bearing wearing a golden crown and dragon-embroidered robes. They were drinking, laughing, oblivious to the butchery occurring a few thousand feet above them.
Luo Zhen's arrival caused a stir.
"Halt!" a Demon King shouted, standing up from his table. "This is a private clan gathering. Who are you to trespass?"
Luo Zhen almost laughed at the absurdity. You're all about to be massacred, and you're worried about the guest list?
"Cancel the party!" Luo Zhen shouted, his voice amplified by Qi. "Death is at your door!"
The warning was met not with fear, but with raucous laughter.
"Death? At our door?" A general threw his head back, spilling his wine. "Did you hear that? He says the Silver Flood Dragon Clan is in danger!"
"We have ruled these seas for millennia!" another scoffed. "Who dares touch us?"
"I heard some noise above earlier," a noble added dismissively. "Three princes went to handle it. It's probably just a lost whale. And this fool calls it a disaster?"
The plaza erupted in mockery. They looked at Luo Zhen as if he were a jester provided for their entertainment.
Then, the water pressure changed.
A silhouette tore through the currents, landing softly in the center of the plaza. It was a figure that looked like a reanimated corpse, blood staining his lips, his eyes burning with an unholy light.
True Person Qing Yang looked around the opulent gathering, his grin widening until it seemed to split his face.
"So many," he rasped. "If I drain you all... yes... I will be fully restored."
"Who is this dried-up ghoul?" a young noble shouted, slamming his cup down. "Guards! Pitchfork this trash out of here!"
But the guards didn't move.
At the head table, the laughter had died instantly. The color drained from the faces of the elders. The Silver Flood Dragon Emperor stood up, his hands trembling, his eyes wide with recognition and primal fear.
"Qing Yang..." the Emperor whispered, his voice cracking. Then, he screamed, "Qing Yang has broken the seal! Battle stations! All hands to battle!"
"Too late!" Qing Yang roared with laughter.
He dissolved into a blur of black motion, diving into the crowd of stunned nobles. The slaughter began instantly. Blood—hot and metallic—clouded the crystal clear water of the plaza.
Luo Zhen watched from the periphery, his chest heaving. The chaos he had engineered had arrived. The Emperor and the elders were now engaging Qing Yang, their combined power creating shockwaves that shook the seabed.
"I should go," Luo Zhen told himself. "This is a meat grinder."
He hesitated for a split second, eyeing the corpses of the King-level dragons. Devouring them could boost his bloodline. But seeing Qing Yang fight—laughing maniacally while holding off five Demon Emperors—doused that greed immediately.
"Too dangerous. Time to vanish."
Luo Zhen shot upward, breaking the surface and scrambling toward the beach of the Red Desert. He needed to put as much distance between himself and this warzone as possible.
"Host, wait!"
The mechanical voice of the System rang out in his mind, freezing him in his tracks.
"I have detected the biological signature of Bai Susu."
Luo Zhen blinked, looking around the desolate, sandy beach. "What? Here? We are on the edge of the battlefield. Why would she be here?"
"I am certain," the System insisted. "She is within five hundred meters."
"System, you're glitching. There is nothing here but sand and rocks. If Bai Susu were here, the Silver Emperor would have found her long ago."
"Host, scan the large white boulder at your ten o'clock. It is a spatial artifact with high-level concealment masking. Her signature originates from within."
Luo Zhen turned. There, sitting innocuously on the sand, was a white boulder about the size of a small hut. It looked perfectly ordinary.
Skeptical but trusting his System, Luo Zhen approached the rock. He extended a hand, tapping the rough surface. "It just feels like a rock..."
Whoosh.
A tremendous suction force erupted from the stone. Before Luo Zhen could react, reality warped, and he was pulled inside.
The blinding sun of the desert vanished, replaced by the soft, ambient glow of a pocket dimension. It was a comfortable space, several hundred square meters wide, furnished like a high-end cultivation abode.
And there she was.
Bai Susu sat elegantly on a divan, her long legs crossed, watching him with an amused sparkle in her eyes. She looked untouched by the chaos of the world outside.
"It hasn't been long," she said, her voice melodic. "And look at you—already mid-stage Demon King. I knew you were special."
Luo Zhen stood dumbfounded, processing the shift in reality. "You... you're really here. Right under their noses."
"Is this not the best place?" Bai Susu smiled, a hint of mischief in her expression. "The Silver Emperor is tearing the world apart, looking for me, never suspecting I am sitting on his doorstep. This artifact is flawless; they can't see in, but I can see out."
She gestured to a shimmering panel floating in the air, displaying the carnage at the Crystal Palace.
"I saw you arrive," she admitted. "When you brought that maniac Qing Yang with you, I stayed quiet. I wasn't about to invite a rabid dog into my home. But now that he's busy dismantling the Silver Clan, and you knocked on my door... well, come in. Make yourself comfortable."
Luo Zhen looked at her, then at the image of the war outside, and let out a long, incredulous breath.
"The darkest place is truly under the lamp," he muttered, shaking his head. "I thought I was the master of deception, but you... You are on another level."