The courtyard lay silent long after Dua Lin departed.
Whispers of "dragon bloodline" and "Nine Dragons War Sovereign Art" still hung in the air like ghostly echoes.
But within Dua Lin's private chamber, silence was an illusion.
A storm was brewing.
He sat cross-legged in the center of his cultivation array.
The faint outline of a dragon shimmered behind him, its form clearer than ever—its scales faintly translucent, its golden eyes half-open.
Threads of spiritual qi from heaven and earth flooded toward him, drawn by an unseen command.
The Nine Dragons War Sovereign Technique rotated with a rhythm like thunder in his veins.
With each cycle, his blood boiled.
With each breath, his bones crackled like molten metal cooling into steel.
"Nine veins within one body, nine heavens within one soul… the second awakens only through wrath that shakes the Dao."
That ancient chant echoed within his mind, not from memory—but from the dragon shadow itself.
Dua Lin frowned. "Wrath that shakes the Dao…?"
Before he could ponder further, his vision blurred.
A violent surge of qi exploded inside his dantian.
He felt his spirit wrenched out of his flesh—drawn into an abyss of crimson clouds and roaring fire.
He opened his eyes to find himself standing upon a sea of molten gold.
Above him loomed nine colossal dragon silhouettes circling through blood-colored mist.
Their eyes glowed like twin suns, staring down at him with judgment older than time.
"Who seeks the wrath of the second vein?"
The voice thundered through heaven and earth. It was not sound—it was law.
Each word carried the weight of judgment, shaking the ocean beneath his feet.
"I am Dua Lin," he said calmly, his tone unbending.
"I seek to awaken the second vein of the Nine Dragons War Sovereign Art."
"Then prove thy worth," the voice hissed. "Defeat thy past… or be devoured by it!"
The mist coiled, condensed—and from it stepped a man in black armor, his aura cold and suffocating.
His eyes were sharp as blades, his hands steady as death.
Dua Lin froze.
That face—he knew it too well.
It was himself.
Or rather… it was the Ghost Sovereign, his former self from Earth.
The two figures faced each other across the molten sea.
"You've changed," the Ghost Sovereign said, his voice low and emotionless. "You once wielded war like a scalpel. Now you seek dragons and Dao. Have you grown weak?"
"I've grown beyond killing for purpose," Dua Lin answered evenly. "Strength without restraint is destruction."
The Ghost Sovereign smirked, drawing a black-bladed weapon that pulsed with murderous intent. "Restraint? Then you've already lost."
He vanished.
A blade of shadow tore through the air toward Dua Lin's throat.
Boom!
The molten sea erupted as Dua Lin raised his palm, catching the strike head-on.
Flames splashed like waves against his skin.
But instead of pain, he felt something else—rage.
It wasn't his own—it was the dragon's wrath, ancient and wild, pouring into him like liquid lightning.
"Wrath… is not weakness," Dua Lin whispered. His eyes turned gold. "It is power when mastered."
He thrust forward, his fist igniting with golden qi.
The Ghost Sovereign met him blow for blow, each strike tearing the sky apart.
Every clash echoed like thunder between worlds.
Outside the chamber, the Longwei Clan was in chaos.
The air trembled.
The ground beneath the main courtyard cracked open, releasing faint golden light.
Clouds above the estate churned violently as if a dragon's breath stirred the heavens.
"Patriarch!" an elder cried, kneeling beside the training grounds. "The ancestral qi veins are responding to Dua Lin's cultivation!"
Patriarch Longwei Zhen appeared, his robes fluttering in the storm of qi. His expression darkened with awe and alarm.
"This resonance… impossible. No mortal body should cause heaven's pulse to waver. What is he awakening?"
Thunder rumbled above.
Lightning shaped like dragon claws tore through the clouds.
Every cultivator below the Core Formation Stage collapsed to their knees, unable to withstand the pressure.
Within the spiritual realm, Dua Lin was pushed to his limits.
The Ghost Sovereign's blade had sliced open his arm, yet his golden blood—pure qi essence—sizzled as it touched the molten sea.
Every droplet ignited a new spark of energy, feeding the coiling dragons above.
"You can't win against what you once were," the Ghost Sovereign mocked. "I am perfection—you are hesitation."
Dua Lin's breathing deepened. His body shimmered with divine light.
"Then let hesitation be burned away."
He clenched his fists together, forming a seal.
The Nine Dragons War Sovereign Technique blazed through his meridians—nine channels flaring like golden rivers.
Second Form — Wrath of the Heavenly Dragon!
The molten sea convulsed.
A roar like the birth of stars erupted as a golden dragon burst from his dantian, coiling around his form.
Its roar shattered the mist, its breath burned the shadow.
The Ghost Sovereign's eyes widened. "This… is not of Earth…"
"No," Dua Lin said coldly, "this is of Heaven!"
He drove his fist forward—one blow, infinite wrath.
It struck the Ghost Sovereign square in the chest.
The impact didn't break flesh—it shattered concept.
The shadow self disintegrated into starlight, vanishing into the molten waves
Outside, the clan's sky cracked open in a ring of golden radiance.
A colossal dragon silhouette appeared within the clouds, roaring across heaven and earth.
Its cry pierced through every cultivator's soul, awakening bloodlines long dormant.
Even the Patriarch stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief.
"The… the dragon bloodline is resonating with the heavens…" he whispered. "This is… beyond our clan's history."
Golden light poured down, entering Dua Lin's chamber.
The walls shook, symbols igniting across the floor.
Then—silence.
When the light faded, Dua Lin opened his eyes.
His body was drenched in golden mist, his veins glowing faintly beneath his skin.
Behind him, two dragons now coiled—one black as abyss, one gold as dawn.
Their eyes glimmered in perfect harmony.
He had awakened the Second Dragon Vein.
The door slid open violently. Patriarch Longwei Zhen stepped in, his expression unreadable.
Behind him, several elders stood trembling, still overwhelmed by the lingering divine aura.
Dua Lin slowly rose to his feet. "Patriarch."
Zhen's gaze swept across the room—the scorched floor, the golden runes, the aura that still pressed like mountains on his shoulders.
"Dua Lin," he said, voice low, "what realm have you touched?"
Dua Lin looked at his hands. Golden light still danced between his fingers.
"I merely stepped into the second vein of my path. Nothing more."
Zhen's brows twitched. Nothing more?
That phenomenon had nearly split the heavens.
"Do you understand," Zhen said slowly, "that what you've done today will not remain hidden? When the dragon veins stir, the world feels it."
"I understand." Dua Lin's gaze was calm, almost distant.
"But the heavens cannot restrain what is born of them."
After a long silence, the Patriarch sighed. "From this day, no one in the clan shall interfere with your cultivation. You walk a path that none of us can follow."
He turned, his black robe fluttering as he left.
The elders followed, whispering in awe.
Even after they were gone, the golden light around Dua Lin did not fade.
He sat once more upon the jade mat, exhaling slowly.
Inside his dantian, the two dragon veins coiled together—breathing, alive.
First Dragon: Dominion.
Second Dragon: Wrath.
Eight more waited beyond the horizon of his soul.
He opened his eyes, a faint smile curving his lips.
"Two veins… and already the heavens tremble."
His gaze turned skyward. "When the ninth awakens, even gods will bow."
The dragons within him roared in agreement, their cries echoing through realms unseen.