The waves of the East Sea thundered restlessly against the coral walls of the Dragon Palace. The air smelled of salt and blood, for the rebellion had spread like wildfire. Pirate clans, renegade dragons, and demon tribes struck the trade routes, choking lifelines and spreading terror along the coastlines.
Inside the Dragon King's great hall, carved from ancient pearl and shimmering jade, the atmosphere was heavier than the sea itself. Generals argued, ministers shouted, and princes glared at one another with barely concealed hostility.
"Strike with the Tide Legion at once!" one general cried.
"No," another snapped, "we must seal the borders and conserve strength until reinforcements return!"
The Dragon King sat on his throne of obsidian coral, his expression grim, eyes scanning the sea of clamoring voices. The rebellion was more than a military threat—it was a test of his house's authority. If handled poorly, the cracks would deepen, and his dynasty would weaken forever.
At last, his gaze swept across his children. Sons armored in dragon scales, daughters crowned in shimmering pearls—yet hesitation marked their faces. None wished to take the risk.
Then, from the back of the chamber, a quiet voice spoke:
"Father. Let me take the vanguard."
The words silenced the hall. Heads turned as one, and when they saw who had spoken, laughter erupted.
"Taiyi?!"
"The adopted one dares to speak?"
"Send him—let the rebels drown him before we waste more time!"
The Dragon King raised his hand, silencing them. His golden eyes fixed on the calm figure of Taiyi, who stood with hands folded neatly, his expression unreadable.
"You?" the Dragon King asked, his voice slow, heavy. "Do you understand what you ask for? To lead the vanguard is to bear the blade at the throat. Fail, and you die with your men."
Taiyi bowed. "I understand, Father. Victory does not come to the loudest voice, nor the strongest arm. Allow me this chance—I will not disgrace the East Sea."
The court erupted again, but the Dragon King said nothing more. He simply studied the boy who never raised his voice, who never competed for attention. At last, he nodded.
"Very well. The vanguard is yours."
A decree that shocked the palace and sealed Taiyi's fate.
---
The Serpent Trench...
Taiyi marched with three hundred soldiers into the open sea. His troops grumbled and mocked behind his back.
"Why should we follow him? He's no dragon by blood."
"He'll get us killed."
"He survives only because the King pities him."
But Taiyi said nothing. His calm gaze studied the sea currents, the jagged terrain of the Serpent Trench, the movement of shadows in the deep. His silence unnerved some, though they mistook it for timidity.
When the rebels struck, they came in overwhelming waves—thousands of sea demons with serrated tridents, chanting victory before the battle even began.
The first clash was disastrous. Taiyi's forces were scattered, men screaming as nets dragged them down, poisoned spears piercing through scale and armor alike.
The demon general laughed, his voice booming. "Pathetic! This is the Dragon King's son? Weakling! Your head will hang from my banner!"
But Taiyi only observed, his soldiers believing him paralyzed by fear. In truth, every retreat, every collapse was deliberate. He allowed the demons to believe they had the upper hand, let them grow reckless, greedy, overconfident.
And then—he moved.
With a single signal, units that seemed broken suddenly converged on predetermined points: narrow trenches, whirlpool currents, concealed coral spikes that Taiyi had mapped in secret. Explosions of light and collapsing cliffs crushed hundreds of demons at once.
The demon army faltered. Confusion spread. Their formation unraveled.
The general roared and charged straight for Taiyi, who stood unflinching amid the chaos.
"You dare play games with me, whelp?"
Taiyi's blade whispered from its sheath. He stepped aside as the trident pierced water where he had stood, then moved with fluid precision—one strike, clean, decisive. The demon general's head rolled free, his body sinking into the abyss.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then, Taiyi spoke—not loudly, but clearly enough that both his troops and the dying rebels heard him.
"Strength without wit is nothing. Strategy without courage is worthless. Remember this: the sea does not favor the reckless—it devours them."
The rebellion's vanguard collapsed. Taiyi had turned near defeat into victory, not by brute strength but by patience, misdirection, and precision.
When he returned to the palace, the soldiers who once mocked him bowed their heads, whispering a new name:
"The Schemer Prince."
"The Calm Fang."
"The perfect heir."
---
Far away, sealed within the Fire Realm, Feng Jiu faced her own crucible.
The sky was a dome of eternal flames, and below stretched a land of endless volcanoes. The Phoenix Empress, her elder sister Feng Xia, stood on the edge of a blazing crater, her golden feathers gleaming.
"You are blood of the purest flame," Feng Xia declared. "But fire is not kindness. Fire consumes. To wield it, you must endure what others cannot. Today, you will walk into the heart of the Fire Abyss."
The Phoenix clans gathered, watching. Some pitied the younger princess. Others sharpened their claws, waiting to see if she would rise—or perish.
Feng Jiu stepped barefoot onto the molten path. Every step burned into her flesh, searing nerves, tearing screams from her throat. The abyss roared with heat, flames coiling like serpents that sought to devour her.
But she did not fall.
A vision stirred in her mind—silver hair under moonlight, eyes like deep seas, a laugh she did not know but somehow remembered. The image gave her strength she could not explain.
Step by step, she moved forward.
Her blood ignited, feathers of fire unfurling from her back. At the peak of agony, when her body should have crumbled into ash, she let out a cry that split the sealed sky.
A colossal phoenix of scarlet flame burst upward, its wings spanning the horizon. The volcano erupted, rivers of fire rising to dance with the heavens.
The Phoenix clans roared in awe.
"She has awakened!"
"The Princess has surpassed even the Empress of old!"
But as the firestorm calmed, Feng Jiu stood trembling, clutching her chest. The power within her surged, glorious and terrifying—but her heart was restless.
She gazed at the sealed barrier above the realm, her flames licking against it but never piercing through.
"This world is too small…" she whispered. "There is something—someone—waiting beyond. I can feel it."
Her sister heard and frowned but said nothing.
Feng Jiu did not know the name, nor the face, yet the longing burned fiercer than fire itself.
---
While Taiyi's victory reshaped the East Sea and Feng Jiu rose as the Fire Realm's blazing star, the higher realms cracked apart.
Elliot's death was no mere event—it was a calamity. His presence had been a balance, a deterrent. Without him, gods who once feared his shadow now bared their fangs. Alliances shattered. Realms mobilized for war.
And though the Heavens remained sealed, their tremors reached even into the mortal and outer realms. Storms raged, stars shifted, and whispers of destiny stirred in every corner of existence.
---
That night, Taiyi stood on the edge of the East Sea, the moon mirrored on the waves. His sword rested against the sand, his eyes calm, his aura controlled.
And yet, in the depths of his heart, he felt the strange pull again. A woman of fire. A warmth he should not know.
He closed his eyes, speaking softly, the words carried away by the tide.
"I will not remain underestimated forever. I will rise—not only for this sea, not only for this throne, but for the world beyond."
The sea roared in answer, waves crashing as if acknowledging his oath.
And far away, a phoenix looked toward the sealed heavens with the same silent longing.