At this moment—
Beyond the shores of the Eastern Sea, two white-robed Daoist children hovered calmly in the sky, suspended in midair.
"Senior Brother, I heard the Dragon King of the East Sea—Ao Qing—has become incredibly powerful lately," whispered one of them, eyes flickering with unease as he gazed over the calm waters.
"They say he's conquered all Four Seas… even repelled a horde of one hundred thousand demons.
Are you sure borrowing their Sea-Calming Divine Needle won't cause us trouble?"
The older of the two snorted coldly.
"What's there to worry about? He's just a minor Dragon King of a declining clan.
The Dragon Clan is long past its prime."
"Besides, don't forget—our Master sent us here to 'borrow' treasures from these so-called monsters.
Of course, we say borrow… but really, we're just collecting tribute."
He looked toward the East Sea with an arrogant tilt of the chin.
"The Fengshen Cataclysm is just around the corner.
Master and the others are busy poaching elites to build up the Western Sect.
We have to help by 'borrowing' as many spiritual treasures as we can.
When our sect flourishes… we'll be honored as pioneers!"
Hearing this, the younger Daoist's worries seemed to melt away.
"Right… They wouldn't dare defy our Master.
The Dragon Clan will hand over the treasure without question."
But just as the two were feeling emboldened, the sea below suddenly surged with dense fog.
From within the mist, Prime Minister Turtle emerged slowly—his massive figure and calm eyes cutting through the haze.
The elder Daoist child smirked the moment he saw him.
"See? What did I tell you?"
"All we had to do was invoke Master's name. Even the Dragon King must tremble before us…"
He looked down his nose at Prime Minister Turtle.
"You there—old turtle!
You see us Western Daoist children standing before you, yet you haven't come to kneel or invite us in with proper courtesy!?"
His tone was full of haughty disdain.
But before he could finish, Prime Minister Turtle simply raised one hand—
With a flick of his sleeve, two tidal waves of crushing energy burst forth and obliterated the Daoist children on the spot, reducing them into nothing but misted blood fog.
"Too noisy."
With that, he turned without hesitation and vanished into the waters, not sparing them a single glance.
Moments later, he returned to the East Sea Dragon Palace and calmly reported the slaying of the two Daoist childrento Dragon King Ao Qing.
The Dragon Clan elders were stunned at first—but then, their faces lit up with raw satisfaction.
"Beautifully done!"
Even Ao Qing couldn't help but chuckle.
So what if they're Receiving Daoist's attendants?
If they come looking for trouble—then they die. Simple as that.
The death of the Daoist children was nothing more than a minor interlude.
Not one soul in the East Sea took it seriously.
Over the next few days, under Ao Qing's orders, the Four Seas doubled down:
Cultivation was taught vigorously to all promising fish spirits, shrimp soldiers, and crab generals.The first wave of customized divine armor and weapons entered full production.
And Ao Qing?
He immersed himself in the seventh layer of the"Dragon God Technique", striving to break through.
Unlike the sixth layer, the seventh realm specialized in controlling advanced Five Elemental spells—each of which could suppress worlds with terrifying might.
Take the "Mount Tai Descends" technique:
With just a few breaths, Ao Qing could now gather enough Earth Element to condense a mountain-sized mass of energy and smash it down upon his enemies, obliterating them in an instant.
Or the spell "Sorrow of Rain and Cloud":
Ao Qing could summon heavenly clouds laced with tribulation lightning, and within a few breaths, have multiple cities enveloped in judgment storms.
While the names didn't sound particularly domineering… their lethality was beyond doubt.
And as Ao Qing grasped these new elemental arts, he could clearly feel:
His control over the Five Elements had risen to an entirely new level.
Since the age of the Ancestral Dragon, the Dragon Clan had always been masters of elemental forces.
The Four Sea Dragon Kings each wielded distinct elemental affinities.
Now that Ao Qing had evolved into the Eight-Clawed Golden Dragon, his command over these forces had become effortless and absolute.
The cultivation of the seventh realm didn't take him long.
And had anyone stood beside him during this process, they would've seen:
The elements around him glowed in a stunning seven-colored radiance—
As if the world itself bent to his breath.
While Ao Qing cultivated in seclusion, Prime Minister Turtle and the rest wasted no time.
They executed his vision to perfection—expanding the Dragon Clan's strength, managing resources, and continuing to grow the Dragon Clan's fate by the day.
Meanwhile…
Far away in the Western Sect—
Receiving Daoist sat cross-legged atop his Innate Spiritual Treasure—the Twelve-Petaled Golden Lotus.
His eyes sparkled with divine light as he spoke slowly, almost chanting.
In front of him sat rows of disciples in Western Sect robes, listening with intense focus, hanging on every word.
These were disciples he had painstakingly lured from all corners of the world, indoctrinating them into his teachings.
But truth be told, Receiving Daoist was... frustrated.
Even with all this effort, these so-called disciples have zero potential!
Not only do they lack talent—they can't even grasp the basics of cultivation!
He couldn't help but grit his teeth at the thought.
Especially when he compared himself to the Primordial Heavenly Venerable and Taishang Laojun—
The former already has the Twelve Golden Immortals.
The latter commands a number of powerful ascendants.
As for Tongtian Cult Master—his sect was practically an army.
Meanwhile, the Western Sect?
Nothing. No power. No real disciples. No standing in the great tribulation to come.
The Fengshen Cataclysm is upon them. After it ends, the entire world order will be reshaped... and the Western Sect may not even survive!
Beside him, Bodhi Daoist wore a similarly grim expression.
It was clear—their sect had fallen far behind.
Just then—
A Daoist child came running in, crying and shouting.
"Masters! Something terrible has happened!"
"The two disciples you sent to borrow a treasure from the East Sea—they've been killed by the East Sea Dragon King's subordinate, Prime Minister Turtle!"
"Not only that—they didn't even offer an explanation!"
Silence.
Receiving Daoist and Bodhi Daoist looked at each other, eyes full of disbelief.
They were… killed?
Their disciples might not have been strong, but they were still members of the Western Sect—representatives of a Saint.
Killing them outright?
That was no different from slapping the face of a Saint!
When did the East Sea Dragon Clan become this arrogant!?
Do they no longer fear the wrath of Saints!?
Want to read ahead: early Chapters on: patreon.com/Zefyrus