Chapter 35 – The Cry of the Dragon
The sect groaned beneath the weight of slaughter.
Lin Xuan's arms ached as the Blackstorm Pike cleaved through another wave of attackers, his breath a ragged rhythm. Beside him, Bai Liang's saber gleamed red, every swing a storm of desperation. They fought like men already half-buried, each strike forced from marrow-deep will.
On the eastern walls, Senior Brother Wen's pristine swordsmanship faltered; his blade nicked, his robes torn, blood dripping down his sleeve.
At the Alchemy Pavilion, Junior Sister Mu gasped smoke into her lungs, lips split and trembling as her flames thinned under the suffocating aura of the demonic elder.
Even the sect leader, titanic in his clash with Mo Tianyin, bore blackened scars along his arm where the blood-qi tide had gnawed away layers of protective essence.
The disciples of Cloudsky were not breaking—but they were being overwhelmed.
And just as despair threatened to root itself in every heart—
A sound rang out.
Crack.
It was small. A single note, delicate as porcelain fracturing. Yet it carried, impossibly, to every corner of the sect. To every ear.
Time… stilled.
Even Mo Tianyin paused mid-strike, his red tide wavering as his head tilted toward the sound.
---
The Egg Awakens
From deep within the Celestial Furnace nestled in Lin Xuan's Evervault, the egg trembled. Hairline fractures crawled across its pearlescent shell, each fissure glowing faint gold. Another crack rang, louder, until the egg split apart in radiant shards.
The world… welcomed.
Cultivators who had reached Nascent Soul or beyond felt it most sharply: a pressure that was not oppression, but majesty. A declaration.
A presence that belonged not to the petty squabbles of sect and clan—but to the rulers of creation.
The dragon had awakened.
---
The Might of a True Dragon
Dragons.
The name alone carried weight enough to silence realms. They were not mere beasts. They were not spirit-born aberrations. They were the first sovereigns of heaven and earth—creatures whose very existence rewrote the laws around them.
Where other beings clawed through realms for centuries, a true dragon's cry at birth rivaled a Golden Core cultivator's strike. Their scales bore natural arrays more intricate than sect masters could carve. Their blood was a scripture unto itself, each drop an ocean of cultivation.
And this one—this infant—was more than dragon.
Its shell had hidden a .001% true dragon bloodline, improbability incarnate. Upgraded, refined, until it bloomed.
The impossible had become real.
---
The Baby Dragon's Cry
The infant emerged in a burst of gold and silver, serpentine body small enough to coil around Lin Xuan's shoulders, yet its roar shook mountains. Scales shimmered with flowing script. Its eyes—clear, ancient, impossibly intelligent—met the world.
Its cry rolled across the battlefield.
Demonic cultivators stumbled, blood seizing in their veins as instincts older than memory told them to kneel. Even Mo Tianyin's blood tide shuddered, its thousand screaming faces silenced.
Lin Xuan staggered, not from fear but from the weight of contact that pressed into his mind.
"So warm… so bright… so loud…"
The dragon's voice was a child's, curious and unformed, yet its echo reverberated as if spoken by the heavens themselves.
"You carried me… I know you. I will guard you."
It opened its mouth, and lightning-fire surged forth in a torrent that carved through the arena like a heavenly decree. Dozens of demonic elites burned to ash before they could even scream.
Lin Xuan's enemies vanished in that radiance. His allies blinked, shielded by the dragon's intent.
---
The Sect Saved… for Now
Mo Tianyin snarled, blood tide recoiling. "A true dragon?!" His eyes widened in fury and something close to fear. "Impossible! That bloodline has not walked the mortal world in ten thousand years!"
The Sect Leader's blade struck then, severing half the tide. "Then remember this day, demon. For it is not impossible—it is fate."
The baby dragon coiled tighter around Lin Xuan, wings unfurling once, twice, before folding. Its eyes closed, exhaustion already dragging it down.
"Too small… too tired… must sleep. Grow strong, Lin… so we can fly."
Its body shimmered, shrinking into a motelike wisp of light that slipped back into Lin's chest, its presence settling into a deep slumber.
---
The War Continues
The silence lasted a heartbeat. Then the battlefield roared again.
Disciples cried out with renewed courage. Elders surged with desperate strikes. The Sect Leader's aura blazed higher, mountain made unbreakable.
But though the dragon's cry had turned the tide, the war was far from over.
Mo Tianyin's blood-qi raged anew, his face twisted with hatred. "One hatchling will not save you, Cloudsky!"
The sect still burned. Blades still clashed. Screams still echoed.
And Lin Xuan, chest still humming with the dragon's warmth, gripped his spear and stepped forward into the storm.