Beyond the borders of the Nine God Dynasty.
Far, far away.
In territories still wrapped in early chaos, where new dynasties were struggling just to stabilize food, population, and basic soldiers—
A notification rang out.
It didn't come from the heavens.
It didn't shake the Dao.
It was simple.
Cold.
Unavoidable.
[World Announcement]
National Power Leaderboard – First Public Release
Ranking based on: • Military Combat Power
• Territory Control
• Dynasty Development
• Overall Strategic Potential
For a brief moment, the entire world went quiet.
Then the list unfolded.
Rank 1:
Nine God Dynasty
National Power: 97,300,000
Silence.
Real silence.
Then—
"...?"
"What?"
"Wait."
"Did my interface glitch?"
"97… million?"
Someone checked again.
Then again.
Then rubbed their eyes and reopened the panel like that would fix it.
Rank 2:
Azure River Dynasty – 312,400
Rank 3:
Crimson Wolf Dynasty – 287,900
Rank 4:
Heavenly Grain Dynasty – 261,700
The gap wasn't large.
It wasn't even a cliff.
It was an abyss.
World Chat exploded.
[World Chat]
AzureRiver_Lord:
"…Is that number real?"
CrimsonWolf_01:
Bro this gotta be a bug. There's no way.
HeavenlyGrain:
It's only day 4. Who the hell has 97 million power??
IronBanner:
Even if you stacked all top 10 dynasties together you wouldn't hit that.
SpiritLeaf:
Nine God Dynasty… anyone seen this name before?
No answer.
Because no one had.
That was the part that scared them the most.
Private messages started flying.
Not dozens.
Hundreds.
Then thousands.
All aimed at the same name.
[Private Message]
From: AzureRiver_Lord
"Brother, are you human? What rank is your talent?"
No reply.
[Private Message]
From: CrimsonWolf_01
Divine tier? Eternal tier? At least say something, damn it.
No reply.
[Private Message]
From: Unknown
Are you willing to form an alliance? Conditions negotiable.
No reply.
People refreshed his profile.
Nothing.
No world chat messages.
No alliances.
No declared wars.
No location.
Just a name.
And a number that didn't make sense.
In one corner of the world, a player slammed his table hard enough to crack it.
"Bullshit," he muttered. "We're all Tier 1 or Tier 2 Mortal Dynasties. Even the top ones barely broke three hundred thousand."
He paused.
Then swallowed.
"…Unless."
He didn't finish the thought.
Because thinking it made his chest feel tight.
The world chatter outside the Nine God Dynasty was chaos, but inside the Barracks and the Elder Hall, it was calm. Too calm.
Feng Hao stood on the polished stone floor of the Elder Hall, watching the units settle into formations outside. The hall smelled faintly of incense and old wood, though it wasn't incense at all—it was the innate aura of the Myth-level bloodline flowing through the walls themselves.
A soft clearing of throats drew his attention.
"Boy…" said a voice, low and rough but with a trace of amusement.
"Little Hao…" said another, smoother, almost teasing.
Feng Hao blinked. "…Excuse me?"
The mist in the Elder Hall shifted, and twenty elders stepped forward. Not rows of identical soldiers, not statues—they were individuals, alive with quirks, smiles, and the faintest spark of annoyance or amusement. They were all of his bloodline. All of them Myth-level. And all of them carried memories he didn't.
"Little Hao," repeated a tall elder with a weathered face, arms crossed, leaning slightly on a jade staff. "You've grown, but you always forget, don't you?"
Feng Hao frowned. "Forget what?"
The eldest of the two standing closest, a woman with silver-tinged hair and eyes like polished jade, chuckled. "How many times did you get yourself trapped in the ancestral courtyard, thinking you could hide from your cousins Little Hao?"
Feng Hao's eyes narrowed. "I… don't remember that."
A ripple of laughter ran through the hall. Not mocking. Warm. Familiar. Human.
"Of course you don't," said another elder, a stocky man with a scar running down one cheek. "You were four at the time. We watched you, guided you, and occasionally—rescued you. You called me 'Grumpy Hao' back then."
"I… called you that?" Feng Hao muttered, rubbing his temple. "I seriously don't remember any of this."
"You were loud," said the tall, jade-staffed elder, smirking. "Very loud. The other children hated you. But we… didn't."
"Why?" Feng Hao asked quietly, feeling something shift inside him.
The silver-haired woman leaned slightly closer, her tone softer now. "Because you are one of us, Hao'er. You may forget, but the blood remembers."
A chuckle from the stocky man. "And sometimes… we remember for you. Like the time you tried to purify the stream behind the back mountain. You caused a small flood, scared the village for a week, and yet… you thought you were helping."
Feng Hao let out a short, breathless laugh. "…I was terrible."
"No, boy," said another elder, stepping from the shadows. "You were ambitious. Reckless. Smart enough to almost get yourself killed. But you… always wanted to protect something. Even if you didn't know what."
The laughter and teasing subsided, and a quiet hum of respect filled the hall. Feng Hao looked around. These weren't just Myth-level units or summoned constructs—they were his ancestors' blood, his lineage, his elders. They had been waiting for him. Watching him. Remembering things he couldn't.
"Alright," Feng Hao finally said, voice low but more energized, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "I get it. You've been babysitting me since forever."
"We called it training," said the jade-staffed elder dryly. "Though… we admit, half the time we were just watching you crash into walls."
"And trees," added the stocky one.
"And the family shrine," said the silver-haired woman, a soft laugh in her voice.
Feng Hao shook his head, smiling faintly. "…I have no idea how I survived this long."
"Because you didn't do it alone," said the eldest, voice calm, resonant. "Every step, every breakthrough, every foolish little experiment… we were there. Watching. Guiding. Sometimes scolding. Sometimes laughing. Always making sure you got here."
Feng Hao felt a warmth he hadn't noticed in years—the solid, real warmth of family. Of people who knew him better than he knew himself.
He rubbed his face, chuckling quietly. "You guys… never let me rest, huh?"
"Never," said the silver-haired elder, bowing her head just slightly. "Not until you truly understand what it means to bear the bloodline, Little Hao."
"Then I guess," Feng Hao said softly, eyes scanning the assembled elders, "it's time for me to finally catch up to all of you."
The room was silent for a moment, then filled with quiet, knowing smiles. No theatrics, no grand announcements—just lineage, loyalty, and the faint glimmer of Myth-level blood humming through the Elder Hall.
"Good," the jade-staffed elder said, eyes narrowing with playful mockery. "Finally. Maybe now, Little Hao, you'll stop trying to reinvent everything we've already taught you."
Feng Hao laughed. A human, genuine laugh. "Maybe… maybe I'll just do it my way anyway."
And for the first time in the Nine God Dynasty, surrounded by the ancestors he hadn't remembered but had always been there, Feng Hao felt truly… ready.