The days in the East Sea passed like shifting tides. For most, it was a paradise of coral palaces and jeweled gardens, but for Taiyi, it was a battlefield without end.
The dragon youths, proud of their bloodline, never stopped testing him.
"Silver hair, but no dragon's might. Are you even one of us?" sneered Long Rui, son of the Dragon King, during a sparring match.
Before the watching crowd, Long Rui struck with a spear imbued with the might of waves. Taiyi, holding only a dull training blade, stood still until the strike reached him. Then, at the last moment, he shifted slightly—just enough to lessen the blow. He was flung across the arena, crashing hard into the coral wall. Blood trickled from his lips, his body trembling.
The court roared with laughter.
"Pathetic!"
"A dragon in name only!"
"Even sea carp fight better than this!"
But as Taiyi lay there, his blue eyes flickered—not with pain, not with anger, but calculation.
Long Rui's stance was sloppy in victory. His left arm overextended when he thrust. His breathing was heavier than it should be after a few exchanges.
He wastes energy with every strike, Taiyi thought silently. If this were real battle, I would only need to wait for him to tire, then strike once.
But he did not move. He let the laughter grow.
The Dragon King, watching from his throne, narrowed his eyes. To most, Taiyi looked humiliated. But to him, it was something else—the deliberate choice of someone who refused to reveal his hand.
To Taiyi it was not worth it. He did not feel like revealing his strength and no one could force him. This was what he wanted. He had once wished for a quiet life and that was what he got.
---
In the quiet of the night, Taiyi sat alone in the pearl courtyard. The moonlight reflected off the waves above, painting his silver hair in pale light. He touched the bruises on his arms without flinching.
Pain did not disturb him. Failure did not frighten him. What unsettled him was memory—fragments that surfaced like broken shells from the deep.
A burning lotus. A voice calling his name. Blood, endless blood, and a feeling of power so vast it crushed the sky.
But when he tried to grasp it, it slipped away, leaving only emptiness.
He pressed a hand to his chest and whispered, "Not yet."
---
Far away, in a sealed realm where Feng Jiu had awakened, she had now blended in with most of the people in the fire desolate realm and she was loved by many. Even with all the attention she received, Feng Jiu still felt lonely.
She still felt that a piece of her was missing. She has become the genius of the fire realm but even then she is not happy. Her strength has been steadily improving and she would soon become an earth immortal but this did not give her any joy.
---
In the dragon realm
His days took on a strange rhythm.
In public, Taiyi stumbled in spars, missed blows on purpose, and feigned weakness. He endured insults without reaction. The dragon youths laughed at him, courtiers dismissed him, and even the servants pitied him.
But in private, he trained relentlessly.
He studied the flow of water, learning how to let it pass and redirect without resistance. He observed the guards during their drills, memorizing formations and weak points. He tested his body, slow but steady, until each movement grew sharper, more precise.
And always, he remembered every insult. Every name. Every mockery. He made sure that they were deeply embedded in his memory so that when the time came for his vengeance he wont hold back.
---
The first time his mask slipped was during a hunt.
The young dragons were sent to hunt a leviathan eel in the deep trenches, a beast whose scales could deflect most weapons. Long Rui charged ahead, reckless as always, spear flashing. But when the eel coiled and struck with terrifying speed, his weapon was knocked aside, and its fangs lunged for his throat.
The others froze, panic in their eyes.
But Taiyi moved.
He picked up a broken trident from the seabed and stepped between Long Rui and death. Calm, silent, his blue eyes as cold as the deep. With one movement, simple and precise, he angled the trident to strike into the beast's open maw.
The eel shrieked, coiling back in pain.
Taiyi said nothing, only stood with the weapon at the ready. For a moment, he seemed like someone else entirely—unshaken, unyielding, a figure that exuded quiet command.
But when the others turned to him, shocked, he let the trident slip from his hands, his face going pale as if the act had drained him completely. He collapsed to one knee, feigning exhaustion.
"Lucky strike," Long Rui muttered, though his voice trembled.
The others laughed awkwardly, brushing it off.
But in that moment, the Dragon King, who had been watching from afar, leaned forward on his throne. His gaze lingered on Taiyi, sharp and thoughtful.
While others saw a weakling and a coward the dragon king saw something else entirely and he was sure that Taiyi's identity was not simple.
---
By the time they returned to the palace, the court had already twisted the tale.
"Even a useless boy stumbles into luck once."
"He only delayed the inevitable."
But the Dragon King said nothing. He only watched Taiyi, who remained silent, calm, and unreadable.
The mask of weakness held.
But beneath it, in the depths of his calm blue eyes, a storm was brewing.
A chaotic storm that might one day swallow the whole east sea if they were not careful. There were factions being formed but Taiyi was still silent. He was bidding his time or so the dragon king thought but Taiyi maybe had some other plans.