Chapter Sixty: Whose Response

Fortunately, the younger generation has shown promise. Among those who awakened their bloodlines this time, there are several outstanding seedlings—fresh blood continuously flowing in. With such vitality, how could the Dragon Clan not thrive? This was how Ao Qin comforted himself. There was no sense in clinging to misfortunes already set in stone; they must look forward. Only by keeping their gaze fixed on the future could the Dragon Clan avoid decline.

A person's vision greatly determines success or failure. When one perceives the world as dark, their character inevitably becomes shrouded in gloom. Conversely, if their heart holds light, it proves they possess a good nature.

No matter what one does, character is vital. If someone cannot govern themselves, how can they be qualified to rule others? As a leader, if one cannot exercise strict self-discipline and master their own emotions, they are doomed to fail. If a leader lacks even the most basic magnanimity, fussing daily over intangible matters, or over things that are past and irretrievable, then their ability to govern other affairs is easily inferred.

The Four Dragon Kings of the Seas, overseeing the vast aquatic domains, were certainly no fools. In a brief moment, they swiftly emerged from their rage. Yet the incident at the ancestral grounds remained a thorn in their hearts.

“You are right, Second Brother. The loss of the Myriad Dragon Armor can still be traced—unless it has fallen into outsiders’ hands, we still have a chance to recover it. As for the Ancestral Dragon’s legacy, it was always just a rumor. Even if we did not obtain it, our clan has lost nothing. It is only that the greater the hope, the deeper the disappointment. I was too attached,” Ao Guang said, narrowing his eyes in agreement.

The Myriad Dragon Armor was Ao Guang’s most treasured possession. He could not accept its loss so easily. He resolved that when the ancestral grounds next opened, he would send several less gifted young dragons to search for the armor’s whereabouts inside. If they failed once, there would be another chance; he could divide the grounds into countless sections and search them one by one. Sooner or later, the armor would be recovered.

As for the Ancestral Dragon’s legacy, Ao Guang was truly powerless.

The cause of Yi An’s death also remained a mystery. Though the ancestral grounds were fraught with danger, with the Myriad Dragon Armor for protection, ordinary threats could not touch him. To be honest, Ao Guang knew that the ancestral grounds held no truly great dangers. The minor trials not only tempered the younger generation’s character, but also inspired them to grow stronger. In fact, these trials greatly enhanced the awakening of the Dragon Clan’s bloodline.

Yet Yi An perished despite the armor’s protection—did this not imply that there were unknown dangers in the ancestral grounds?

At the same moment, Ao Xiuxiu learned of Yi An’s demise. She stood stunned for a long while, finally absorbing the news, as two lines of tears slowly traced her cheeks and sorrow filled her heart.

Yi An was the first person she had ever liked. This love, before it had truly begun, was already destroyed. Only days ago, he had been lively before her eyes; now, in the blink of an eye, they were forever separated. Ao Xiuxiu found it hard to accept, but fortunately she had not fallen too deeply, and was not driven to desperate measures like some lovesick mortal maidens.

Time heals all things; her sadness would gradually fade with its passage.

But one thing was certain in her heart: she would never allow those so-called talents of the Four Seas Dragon Clan to become her husband.

She did not hope for her husband to be a great hero, nor expect him to one day arrive atop rainbow clouds to marry her. Her only requirement was that he meet her own standards. Yi An’s appearance had pleased her greatly, but now that he was gone, she had lost the perfect candidate in her heart.

However, this did not change Ao Xiuxiu’s intention.

She could not help but turn her gaze to a land far vaster than the Four Seas—the mortal realm.

No one knew what Ao Xiuxiu was thinking. After the ancestral grounds closed, the Four Dragon Kings returned to their posts, working diligently for the strength of the aquatic clans.

...

Meanwhile, Yi An, after a long journey without rest for two days and nights, finally returned to the outskirts of Hangzhou.

Moreover, the day before, Yi An had broken through the Foundation Establishment stage and entered the Reversion stage—a whole new world. His true energy transformed into true essence, powerful and enduring. Had he not been unable to replenish it, the true essence in his body would have been enough to support him all the way from the East Sea to Hangzhou.

It was precisely this breakthrough that had saved Yi An much time.

“By my reckoning, the announcement for the provincial exams should be in the next day or two,” Yi An estimated. So much had happened in these days that his sense of time was muddled; he was not even sure exactly how many days he had been away.

Yi An slipped underground once more; when he emerged, he was already at Wei Liang’s home. Li Zhihe was practicing martial arts in the courtyard. Upon seeing Yi An, he immediately stopped and came forward.

Yi An’s absence these days had greatly worried him and Wei Liang. If not for Xuan Yangzi’s reassurance, they would have been at a loss.

Although Li Zhihe knew Yi An had reached the innate stage—nearly invincible, but not truly so. There is always someone stronger, as the saying goes. Otherwise, why would Yi An have left without a word, vanishing without a trace?

Yet Xuan Yangzi told them not to worry. Wait a few more days; if Yi An did not return, he would go searching.

In Xuan Yangzi’s view, Yi An was like him—a man devoted to cultivation. After acquiring the Five Elements Dao technique, Yi An would naturally hurry off to immerse himself in practice.

Precisely because he understood this, Xuan Yangzi was not worried. Cultivation requires an amount of time unimaginable to ordinary people.

If Yi An lost track of time at a crucial moment in his practice, it was only natural.

“Brother Yi, where have you been these past few days? You’ve caused me and the master to worry about you for so long.” Li Zhihe was full of questions. From what he knew of Yi An, the man was certainly not one to leave without explanation.

Something urgent must have held Yi An back these past days.