The Golden Loong finally arrived at the last stop of Its journey—a voyage that, for It, had not been long at all: the skies above the Long Nation.
It cruised through the high altitudes like a massive, invisible bomber. At ten thousand meters, the airflow rushed over Its body of dense scales, producing a low-pitched howl similar to a heavy engine passing by at low altitude.
The fierce currents buffeted Its air-tight golden scales, which shimmered under the sun with a metallic, frigid luster—like precision-forged golden armor. Its long whiskers and the mane upon Its brow were pulled straight back by the merciless, biting gales, snapping in the wind.
From Its lofty height, It looked down upon the vast territory below, Its vertical pupils reflecting the crisscrossing rivers and the undulating mountain ranges. The aura of a sovereign silently permeated the atmosphere.
Just as It prepared to flick Its caudal fin and accelerate toward the capital—the symbol of power—an unquestionable oracle exploded in Its mind like a clap of thunder.
It was a direct command from the BeastGod.
The Golden Loong's massive frame came to a sudden halt in mid-air. It carved a giant arc through the rolling clouds and then hovered in the heavens like a towering, floating mountain of gold, radiating a suffocating pressure. The clouds swirled around Its form, adding a layer of mystery.
In less than three minutes, It had thoroughly reviewed the Karmic Dossier placed within Its mind and understood Its next mission.
It slowly opened Its great maw.
Several golden ingots—each the size of an adult man's palm, perfectly round and radiating a soft golden glow—were gently spat out from its belly. They hovered before It, spinning rapidly as if possessed by life.
Simultaneously, from the depths of the firmament, several condensed beams of dark-gold light tore through the clouds. Like pillars of divine grace, they struck the ingots with absolute precision, merging into their cores.
To the supreme Beast God, these beams were perhaps a trivial effort, something of little consequence if lost; but to certain individuals within the Long Nation on the Blue Planet, they were irreplaceable, priceless treasures.
When the last wisp of dark-gold radiance had completely integrated into the profound patterns on the ingots' surface and vanished, the Golden Loong opened Its mouth once more.
It swallowed the ingots—now carrying the "Light of Divine Grace"—back into Its belly, settling them securely within Its stomach space, a dimension that followed high-dimensional laws and defied common logic.
With this task complete, It flicked Its tail and shook Its scales. Its massive body accelerated abruptly, triggering a visible circular shockwave that boomed outward.
It adjusted Its course without hesitation.
The target was no longer the capital at the heart of the nation.
The loong's head turned sharply, and the golden silhouette sliced through the sky like a bolt of golden lightning, heading straight for the southwest of the Long Nation.
Along the way, a light drizzle had just ceased. The air was thick with the fresh, damp scent of earth mixed with green grass, carrying a faint, lingering sweetness—
The very scent it favored most at this moment.
The underground command center of the Long Nation fell into a deathly silence.
The constant clacking of keyboards had stopped entirely. News from the southwest border had arrived, and the casualty list was long. Though the personnel were methodically arranging for compensation and funeral honors, many of their trembling fingers betrayed their inner turmoil.
The silence lasted for seven minutes.
The Chief looked at the post-battle report sent back by the Loong Shadow Sequence on the screen and spoke slowly: "Everyone has seen the report and the surveillance. What are your thoughts?"
A young army officer, eyes bloodshot and filled with murderous intent, growled, "I really want to strike back directly. Those bastards..." He cursed under his breath before being clipped on the back of the head by an old General.
The General glared at him, signaling that the Chief was present and to mind his discipline.
The Chief waved a hand, his expression unnervingly calm. "To be honest, I want to strike back too."
This statement caused a ripple of murmurs in the room. The Chief signaled for silence and tapped the touchscreen on the table.
The surrounding giant screens instantly switched, displaying the current state of the B.E.N..
The superpower that was once ablaze with lights was now undergoing a physical collapse of catastrophic proportions.
As the Beast God withdrew the "Logic Patch", the electrical systems of B.E.N. were rendered obsolete in a single second.
This was no mere power failure; the physical properties of metallic conductivity had undergone a sudden mutation. Tens of thousands of transformers melted like wax candles in the ensuing heat.
"According to intelligence from our deep-cover cells," the Chief said, pointing to the screen, "their nuclear submarines cruising the deep seas have seen their reactors enter a deadlock due to a minute perturbation in the probability of nuclear fission. Those priceless war machines are now nothing more than giant iron coffins resting on the seabed."
Watching the scenes of despair, the Dean of the Academy of Sciences let out a long sigh. "This is not a slaughter; it is a far more terrifying judgment. The Goddess has rescinded Her favor from that nation."
He held up three fingers, his tone heavy. "If these physical laws remain in effect across the entire territory of B.E.N., their civilization has regressed by at least three hundred years."
The video continued to play automatically.
The streets of B.E.N. were a chaotic mess. People wailed in the darkness, attempting to light fires for warmth, but the flames would not catch. They tried to boil water, but the water would not heat.
Those smartphones, once hailed as the pinnacle of human technology, were now merely heavy, useless shards of plastic. This apocalyptic landscape had become the sole backdrop for the Bald Eagle Nation.
Vigilance in times of peace was an instinct etched into the marrow of the Long Nation's high command.
Seeing the collapse of B.E.N., no one in the conference room could muster a smile. They subconsciously placed themselves in that position—if the physical logic of the LongNation were to fracture like that, what would they do? Fear and unease spread through the room like a cold draft.
The Chief tapped his knuckles against the table, producing a dull thud-thud. "We cannot sit and wait for death. Contact the President of the Three Blue Lion Country. Regarding that 'Ark Project'—we will provide the funding and the personnel. Reach out immediately."
"Dean Hao," the Chief turned to Hao Xue, Dean of the Academy of Sciences. "We must move as well. Parallel research must be initiated immediately."
Dean Hao Xue sat up straight, his expression solemn. "Understood. I will mobilize our core talents upon my return. However..." He paused. "What shall we call our project? We cannot follow them and call it 'Ark'."
The Chief remained silent for a moment before uttering two words: "Dawn."
"Chief," an official hesitated, lowering his voice. "What about... that 'Sato'? How do we handle him?"
The Chief did not speak. He raised a hand to cut him off and brought up another surveillance video.
The footage was in black and white, taken from a high angle, yet exceptionally clear. Dozens of B.E.N. agents were seen plunging grey-white fluorescent needles into their necks. In less than three seconds, their muscles ballooned like inflating balloons, turning them into deformed monsters. But immediately after, these mutants froze as if someone had pressed a pause button.
In the center of the frame, the once-tiny fancy rat suddenly expanded. It transformed into a creature never before seen: its claws were as long and thin as scalpels, the fur on its back stood up like steel needles, and its size was larger than that of an adult man.
This visual impact forced the officials in the room to lean back instinctively. The sound of synchronized swallowing echoed through the silent room. The official who had asked the question turned pale; he truly did not know whom to send to "contact" such a monster.
In the dead silence, the Chief spoke again: "According to my old comrade-in-arms—the Director of the Ribi City Hospital—that 'Sato' has a name. It is Zhizhi."
The crowd was bewildered. Is now the time to discuss a pet's name? What is the Chief trying to say?
The Chief did not intend to keep them in suspense. "In the future, do not call him 'Sato'. Call him Zhizhi. He already has his own name, so let's not call him that randomly."
The atmosphere in the conference room became incredibly subtle. The leaden oppression was forced aside by the absurdity of that statement.
Everyone's face darkened, feeling as though a row of crows had just flown over their heads. Yet, because of this interruption, the suffocating fear actually dissipated quite a bit.
"Before we are one hundred percent certain, do not attempt to 'contact' Zhizhi." The Chief retracted his jest, his tone as cold as ice. "He is not to be trifled with, and the One behind him... is even less so."
The officials bowed their heads in unison. No one objected.
While the high command debated in the underground conference room, the GoldenLoong had already arrived at Ribi City in the southwest of the Long Nation.
The post-rain streets were littered with mud and broken bricks as the Loong Shadow Sequence and SWAT teams cleared the battlefield. Despite the washing of the rain, the pungent stench of blood and gunpowder still clung to the air. High in the sky, the noble Golden Loong wrinkled Its nostrils; It despised this scent.
It instinctively closed Its respiratory system, and Its massive frame slowly descended through the cloud layers, revealing Itself at a low altitude of a few hundred meters.
The military and police on the streets momentarily fell into chaos, but the panic lasted only three seconds before being replaced by a silence so deep only the whistling wind could be heard.
Everyone—from the black-armored Loong Shadow warriors to the soot-covered SWAT officers—straightened their spines and looked up at the golden silhouette coiled in the sky.
It was a living totem, the very faith of the Long Nation. Never in their lives did they imagine they would be fortunate enough to behold It.
The Golden Loong looked down upon these mortals with satisfaction. Its whiskers twitched slightly, and Its voice softened, yet It still boomed directly in the ears of every person:
"In the name of The Great One, I grant thee a 'Return Gift'. She has received the sentiment of thy protection over Zhizhi."
The moment the words fell, It opened Its great maw.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
One hundred and fifty thousand golden ingots, each weighing ten thousand catties, poured down like a torrential rain. This was no flimsy paper currency, but gold of staggering purity. Each ingot struck the ground with a force that made the pavement tremble.
Soon, the once-empty streets were filled with shimmering ingots, piled into one golden mountain after another. The SWAT officers nearby stared wide-eyed; one young policeman instinctively tried to count them, but his mind stalled by the time he reached a few hundred—within his line of sight, there was nothing but blinding gold.
Finally, several dozen special ingots floated slowly from the loong's mouth. These were larger than those on the ground, their surfaces carved with profound, dark-red patterns that looked as if blood were flowing within them, flickering with a rhythmic, pulsing light.
Under the Golden Loong's control, they landed precisely in front of SWAT Captain Chen Haoran.
Chen Haoran looked at the pile of glowing gold at his feet, his eyelid twitching. He muttered under his breath, "The legendary... getting pelted with gold?"
He truly wanted to swearing. Even after surviving the inhuman combat just prior, the scene before him made his head spin.
Behind him, his team members' eyes followed the descent of each ingot, their breathing as heavy and ragged as a bellows.
The Golden Loong had no intention of crushing him. These ingots, imbued with the Light of Divine Grace, stacked steadily into a small golden mountain half the height of a man.
Before Chen Haoran could even process how to handle this overwhelming fortune, the Golden Loong's next sentence shattered his psychological defenses completely. The tears burst from his eyes instantly—he was far more moved by these words than by the mountains of gold.