The night was as dark as ink, and the dew grew heavier as it deepened.
In the small courtyard, Jiang Huai was wrapped in his quilt, breathing slow and even, yet his brows remained slightly furrowed, as if, even in his dreams, he still brooded over everything that had happened.
His thigh shifted a little, as if the heat spreading was no longer just in his lower abdomen, but had reached his Sword Point to Lingxiao as well.
The position was a bit odd, but his whole body felt warm and cozy.
Perhaps it was because the “house” was rather spacious, and for now, only two resided within. These two forces, for the time being, had not come into conflict.
He had etched the Black Dragon Mark during the Qi Refining stage, and the Spirit Sword Pattern during Foundation Establishment.
He wondered whether he’d have to inscribe something again at the Nascent Soul and Divine Transformation stages.
Wu Zhaohua sat sideways on the edge of the bed, her fingertips gently brushing his slightly creased brow, a trace of barely perceptible satisfaction in her eyes.
Having already crossed the human tribulation, she no longer needed to sleep like an ordinary mortal. Staying beside Jiang Huai was merely a continuation of old habits.
Under the moonlight, it seemed as if nothing had changed.
As if, come dawn, Jiang Huai would still rise, bleary-eyed, cook a meal, look after her for a while, and then head out to the tavern for work.
Once she was sure Jiang Huai was sound asleep, Wu Zhaohua quietly rose, moving as lightly as a feather settling to the ground.
She pushed open the door, and a chilly night breeze mixed with rich floral fragrance swept over her.
Wu Zhaohua raised her head to the sky.
At some point, a heavy Tribulation Cloud had silently gathered in the deep night above, muffled thunder rumbling within the clouds’ depths.
Yet, not a trace of solemnity could be seen on Wu Zhaohua’s face.
She even curved her lips ever so slightly, her smile bearing a nearly languid composure.
Five Thunders Striking the Crown, just a minor tribulation.
With her Celestial Immortal Form, even the Great Tribulation of ascension would be something she could face calmly.
“Don’t wake him,” she murmured softly to herself, her voice dissipating into the wind.
In the next moment, her figure seemed to merge with the night, vanishing without a sound.
When she appeared again, she stood atop a desolate, barren peak outside Ling Mountain.
The wild wind howled, whipping her robes and sending her long hair flying in wild abandon.
Overhead, the Tribulation Cloud seemed thoroughly enraged, violet lightning weaving madly in the sky.
The Heavenly Dao seemed to bare its fangs and claws at Wu Zhaohua, exhaling relentlessly.
“Boom!”
A thick bolt of Heavenly Tribulation Lightning, carrying the majestic might of heaven, crashed down savagely, aiming straight at the solitary white figure atop the peak.
Wu Zhaohua did not so much as lift an eyelid.
She simply raised her right hand at random, forming her fingers into a sword, and tapped lightly at the world-ending lightning.
There was no earth-shattering explosion, nor any blinding flash.
That lightning pillar, which could have flattened mountains, met her fingertip and, as if colliding with an invisible, perfectly smooth barrier, failed to stir even a single ripple, and was tamed in an instant, vanishing as meekly as a domesticated colt.
“Hm, not bad force,” she even commented, quite seriously.
As if startled, the Heavenly Dao exhaled again, sending down more lightning.
In the small courtyard, Jiang Huai seemed to sense something in his dreams. He turned over, mumbling drowsily, “Wu Zhaohua, don’t lie to me…”
Then he sank into even deeper slumber, completely oblivious to the Five Thunders Striking the Crown outside.
Deep in the distant South Sea.
There was no thunder here, nor any fierce wind—only a world of scorching, oppressive flames.
Massive lava rivers wound between crystal walls, the air thick with the scent of blazing fire.
Unlike the cold, aloof grandeur of the North Sea Dragon Palace, the South Sea Dragon Palace exuded a kind of decadent luxury at every turn.
Here, everywhere were mature women. Regardless of age or cultivation, none could escape the fate of becoming a mature woman.
Some were cool, some charming, others dignified—each with their own temperament, but all with voluptuous, shapely figures, as if such was the iron law for all who took the form of the Red Dragon Clan.
Looking around, the hall was filled with the elegant, swaying allure unique to mature women.
The only way to judge age here was that some Red Dragons had smaller red horns atop their heads and shorter red scale tails behind them.
At this moment, on the Treasure Throne in the Dragon Palace Main Hall, a woman of breathtaking figure lounged gracefully.
She wore a fiery red gauze dress, the fabric soft and clinging to every curve, accentuating each tantalizing swell and dip.
A full, generous bosom, a slender yet powerful waist, rounded hips, and plump, shapely legs glimpsed beneath the skirt.
Every inch of her exuded the mature, voluptuous allure of the Red Dragon Clan’s transformation.
This was the ruler of the South Sea Dragon Palace, clan leader of the Red Dragon Clan—Chi Hong.
Chi Hong was lazily rolling a Dragon Saliva Fruit in her hand, red lips parting slightly, just about to take a taste.
Suddenly, a deafening crash exploded through the air, the entire Red Fire Palace shaking violently.
A black figure, wreathed in boundless fury and icy Dragon might, smashed through several layers of defensive formations around the palace, crashing down like a falling star into the center of the Main Hall.
A violent gale swept forth, toppling the nearby tables and stands.
Amid the swirling dust, a thick, savage black dragon tail slammed onto the crystal floor, producing a heart-stopping crack.
Qin Qingyue’s figure slowly steadied itself, black robes billowing though there was no wind, crimson vertical pupils burning with fierce flames, locking unerringly onto the now-risen Chi Hong atop the Treasure Throne.
“Qin Qingyue?”
Chi Hong’s beautiful eyes widened, staring at the murderous Black Dragon who seemed a demon god descended, and at the devastated hall.
For a moment, she was completely dumbfounded.
Jiang Huai isn’t here with me! Instead of making trouble for Wu Zhaohua, why has she come smashing up my Dragon Palace?
Does she think the Red Dragon Clan is easy to push around? If it comes to it, I’ll stake the clan’s foundation and activate the Dragon Array—Qin Qingyue won’t get away with it.
Otherwise, why would she dare help Wu Zhaohua? The Five Great Dragon Clans—who doesn’t have a few trump cards hidden away?
Except, of course, for the Eastern Wilderness Dragon Clan.
Qin Qingyue’s gaze was icy, sweeping over Chi Hong’s seductive, mature form and the crowd of voluptuous, panicked Dragon Ladies in the hall.
“I’m here to pay a visit on behalf of the Eastern Wasteland Black Dragon Clan. Will you welcome me?”
Now that the Eastern Wilderness Dragon Clan’s Dragon Palace was in her hands, she could, in a sense, represent the Eastern Wasteland Dragon Clan.
“This… you’re here as a guest?” Chi Hong asked, half believing, half doubting.
A guest? Who didn’t know Qin Qingyue brought disaster wherever she went?
Was she afraid life was too easy for the Red Dragon Clan?
“Qin Qingyue, the Southern Ridge Dragon Clan does not welcome you!”
Chi Hong straightened her back, her tone turning abruptly stern, all coquettishness vanishing as she displayed the dignity of a dragon lord.
As the palace master, she certainly couldn’t show weakness now.
If it came to a fight, so be it—she’d bet the clan’s foundation. Chi Hong was betting that Qin Qingyue wouldn’t dare take it to the bitter end.
After all, Jiang Huai wasn’t here. Even if Qin Qingyue won at great cost, there was little to gain—why bother?
“Qin Qingyue, we are not the Eastern Wasteland Dragon Clan. This is not a place for you to run wild!”
From among the dragons, a graceful, matronly beauty stepped forth.
The Grand Elder of the Red Dragon Clan, Elder Chi Qin.
Every member of the Southern Ridge Dragon Clan took the mature form, and Grand Elder Chi Qin was no exception.
Her face was a bit longer, and though her eyes remained captivating, there was always an indescribable sharpness to her expression.
It was as if, with a single inhalation, she’d turn into a horse-faced woman, her lips elongating and eyes rolling back.
Qin Qingyue, with Su Yingman in tow, strolled toward Chi Hong’s Treasure Throne as though she were taking a walk in her own backyard, her dragon tail swinging idly and thudding against the floor.
“I’m well aware of your Red Dragon Clan’s confidence.”