The swirling abyssal dust of the Endless Fog continued to trail behind Yun Che, clinging to him like a living entity, even long after he had left its suffocating domain. It did not dissipate, nor did it scatter in the wind like ordinary mist—it followed him, lingering around his body and the abyssal beasts, concealing them entirely within its dense, shadowy embrace. It was as if the Abyss itself refused to let him go, as if he had become a part of it, or perhaps, something even more terrifying—something it could no longer exist without.
Unbeknownst to him, as he soared through the skies, the turbulent energy of the abyssal dust shifted unnaturally, swirling in an almost reverent manner. A storm of profound energy erupted mid-flight, yet Yun Che paid no heed to it. His mind was elsewhere—buried beneath layers of rage, pain, and an ever-consuming emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole. He had no time to dwell on himself, nor on the inexplicable changes occurring within his body.
But if he had, he would have realized—he had broken through.
A surge of power spread through his being, coiling deep within his meridians like an untamed beast, yet, rather than resisting him, the abyssal dust around him stirred even more docilely than before.
Previously, he had to exert his will, constantly manipulating and controlling the abyssal dust with his own power. Each command, each movement, had required a continuous drain on his profound energy, as if he were forcing an unruly force into submission.
But now—that struggle no longer existed.
The abyssal dust no longer resisted him.
It no longer needed to be commanded.
It had become something else entirely.
It swirled around him naturally, moving in silent reverence, as though it were alive—not a chaotic force that needed to be controlled, but a willing follower that had chosen to obey.
No longer a tool to be wielded.
But a force that had submitted completely to its Lord.
He had finally stepped into Divine Master Level Ten, the peak of what mortals could achieve. Yet, the aura radiating from him was far beyond that. Even without entering God Ash, even without utilizing the full force of his profound energy, his very presence exuded a pressure comparable to those within the Divine Limited Realm.
This should have been an earth-shattering revelation, a momentous occasion that would have left anyone else in stunned disbelief.
But Yun Che did not care.
There was no exhilaration, no sense of accomplishment, no acknowledgment of his ascension. His heart was cold, and his mind remained shackled to a single purpose.
He simply continued forward, his body cutting through the sky like a streak of darkness, passing mountain after mountain, covering unfathomable distances in mere instants. Each peak he crossed blurred into the next, each vast landscape beneath him meaningless compared to his destination.
Yun Xi had already mapped everything out for him.
With his path laid clear, Yun Che pressed onward without pause—
Until at last, the towering peaks of the Ancestral Dragon Mountain Range stretched before him.
The home of the dragons.
The towering mountains stretched endlessly, their rugged peaks shrouded in a somber gray mist, reflecting the ominous presence of the Endless Fog Sea that loomed in the distance. The land itself exuded an ancient aura, one steeped in the lineage of dragons. If the dragons of the God Realm were ever to set foot here, they would undoubtedly worship this place as their ancestral land, a sacred ground that embodied their very origins.
This was a holy land for dragons.
And yet, despite its significance, it paled in comparison to the Divine Kingdoms. Unlike those vast dominions ruled by True Gods, this land—though powerful, ancient, and unshakable—was still tainted by the lingering presence of Abyssal Dust.
After all, the dragons had no True God.
And without a True God, they could not ward off the corruption of the Abyss.
Yun Che's arrival was like the descent of an apocalyptic force. His presence alone was suffocating, the air growing unbearably thick with a crushing pressure. The Abyssal Dust, which naturally eroded all profound energy, should have been wild and uncontrollable.
But instead—it thickened.
It gathered.
It bowed.
It was as if the very abyss recognized him, as if it had begun to move in response to his will.
The oppressive weight that came with him did not stem from him alone. The two abyssal beasts that flanked his side—the Abyssal Dragon Lord and the Abyssal Qilin—were forces that should have never stepped beyond the Endless Fog Sea.
And now, they had arrived at the dragons' holy land.
To those below, this was no different than a nightmare given form.
In an instant, ten overwhelming auras erupted from within the Ancestral Dragon Clan's domain.
The figures that shot into the sky moved with unparalleled urgency, cutting through the mist like blinding streaks of divine power. They did not hesitate. They had sensed the anomaly the very moment the abyssal dust had stirred unnaturally, and now that they were faced with an unprecedented threat, they had no choice but to respond at full force.
These were the elders of the Ancestral Dragon Clan, the final line of defense that had remained behind to guard their sacred home.
They were the last protectors.
The strongest among them, a dragon whose aura far surpassed the others, stood at the peak of the Fifth Level of the Divine Limited Realm.
But in the face of what stood before them—
That strength was nothing.
With their bodies trembling and their nerves frayed by an oppressive, suffocating force, the elders of the Ancestral Dragon Clan lowered their heads in submission.
"We… greet the Fog Monarch…"
Their voices wavered, betraying the overwhelming fear that gripped their souls. None of them dared lift their heads. None of them dared to look upon the figure standing before them.
Because there was no need for introductions.
The being that had arrived at their sacred mountain—**this walking calamity of abyssal dust and unrelenting destruction—**was unmistakable.
The churning abyssal dust that surrounded him was so thick, so suffocatingly dense, that even they—powerful beings at the Divine Limited Realm—felt their bodies corroding simply by being near it. Their scales, once impervious to most elemental forces, were being eaten away at an alarming rate.
And worse… their souls were not exempt.
Even with their divine defenses, their very existence was unraveling at the edges, their profound energy withering under the crushing weight of Yun Che's presence.
The realization sank deep into their minds, twisting their fear into something far beyond mortal terror.
This was the being that had thrown the Abyssal World into chaos.
The one responsible for upending the balance of the Endless Fog.
And now… he had come here.
The Ancestral Dragon Clan had lost contact with their strongest elders—those who had ventured into the Endless Fog Sea in search of Yun Che and Shen Wuyi. Days had passed, yet no word had returned.
They had debated amongst themselves—Should they send another force? Should they wait? Had something happened?
But their Lord had ordered them to remain.
To protect the clan.
To guard their home against threats that might seek to take advantage of their absence.
And so they had remained behind.
Unaware.
Unaware that those elders would never return.
Unaware that at this very moment, they were the last line of defense.
The final remnants of the once-proud Ancestral Dragon Clan.
And yet—
The abyssal dust did not care for their submission.
It did not care for their desperate attempts at reverence.
For the only response they received—
Was a single, merciless word.
A word spoken without emotion, without hesitation, without even the pretense of consideration.
"Slaughter."
And the abyss moved.
The suffocating abyssal dust parted as if the very air itself had been cleaved open, revealing the nightmarish figures that lurked within. Two colossal beasts emerged from the swirling darkness, their towering frames casting a shadow that engulfed the sky.
Before the elders could even comprehend what they were seeing—before they could scream, flee, or even pray for salvation—claws and fangs descended like a storm of destruction.
"BOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!"
"BOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!"
"CRACKED!!!!!!"
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
Blood splattered across the heavens.
Golden scales, torn wings, and shattered bones rained down like a storm of carnage, staining the sacred ground of the Ancestral Dragon Clan with the remnants of its proud defenders.
On the ground below, the members of the Dragon Clan could only watch in frozen horror. Their legs gave out beneath them, their bodies trembling violently as they witnessed the nightmare unfolding in the sky.
The sheer, merciless slaughter—the terrifying power that had been unleashed—was something they had never imagined possible.
And then—
"BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!"
A figure plummeted from the sky, crashing into the earth with such overwhelming force that the land itself tore apart, sending shockwaves in all directions. The ground ruptured, cracks webbing outward as an explosion of debris consumed the surroundings.
The weaker dragons never even had a chance.
The force of the impact obliterated them instantly, their bodies turning into nothing more than scattered blood and dust.
"Cough… cough…!!"
An elder, his body battered and broken, vomited blood as he struggled to lift himself up. His golden eyes, once filled with wisdom and dignity, now held only horror and despair.
"What… WHAT ARE YOU STANDING THERE FOR?!!! FLEEEEE!!! RUN!!!!!"
Blood streamed from his mouth, his nose, his ears—yet his voice thundered across the battlefield, snapping the remaining dragons out of their stupor.
"Young Lord! Run!!!!"
Near the center of the devastation, an elderly dragon—one whose aura burned at the Ninth Level of the Divine Extinction Realm—grabbed hold of a young dragon, his hands shaking with urgency. The young dragon's cultivation was barely at Half-Step Divine Extinction Realm, too weak to survive what was coming.
And yet—he didn't move.
His wide, disbelieving eyes remained locked on the carnage unfolding above, his body stiff as if he had been turned to stone.
The elder gritted his teeth, a deep, guttural curse leaving his lips.
"Damn it!!!"
Without waiting for the youth to react, the elder wrapped his energy around him, activating his profound strength without hesitation.
In the next instant—he disappeared into a streak of golden light, dragging the young dragon with him.
All around them, those who could still move, fled.
Dragons of all sizes, all strengths, scattered in every direction, each desperately trying to escape the destruction that had consumed their home.
"BOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!"
Another devastating attack descended from the heavens, tearing through the battlefield like a divine judgment, and once more, the sheer force of the impact unleashed a wave of destruction. The shockwaves, rippling outward with overwhelming power, obliterated everything in their path.
Those too weak to withstand it, those without the protection of their profound energy, were reduced to nothing more than a mist of blood and shattered bone.
"Ugh....."
The elder dragon gritted his teeth as his insides churned violently. A sharp pain surged through his body as he forcefully swallowed the blood threatening to spill from his lips. The shockwave had slammed into his back, rattling his organs despite his formidable cultivation.
Even at the Ninth Level of the Divine Extinction Realm, he had felt the sheer destructiveness of that attack. He could not even begin to imagine how anyone else could have survived if they had been anywhere near the point of impact.
But he had no time to dwell on it.
He tightened his grip on the young dragon in his arms and continued his desperate flight, his body a streak of golden light as he tore through the air.
"Father...."
A weak, dazed murmur reached his ears.
The young dragon in his arms, his expression hollow, seemed to have lost his very soul. His lips trembled, barely able to form the word.
"Young Lord... don't think about that right now! Once we get to safety, we will report this to the Abyssal Monarch!"
The elder's voice was sharp, commanding, filled with urgency. He could not afford to let the boy fall into despair now.
But the young dragon did not respond.
"Father..."
He spoke again, his voice softer, distant—as if the world around him no longer mattered.
And then—his trembling hand rose, his finger extending as he pointed backward.
A chill—**an unbearable, suffocating chill—**ran through the elder's entire body.
His instincts, sharpened by countless years of survival, screamed at him.
A sense of impending doom crashed down on his soul, and in that instant, he knew—
Death was behind him.
He turned—
And before he could even scream—
A monstrous claw, wreathed in abyssal destruction, tore through his body.
"BOOOOMMM!!! BOOOOOMMMM!!! BOOOMMMM!!!"
A single swipe was all it took.
The elder dragon's body was severed in half, split apart like a piece of paper.
The corrosive abyssal energy ate away at his flesh, while the black flames that followed engulfed his very soul.
There was no chance of reincarnation.
There was no chance of survival.
The elder dragon—one of the final guardians of the Ancestral Dragon Clan—was dead.
As for the young dragon—
His body, now without the elder's protection, plummeted from the sky like a fallen star, crashing into the ground with devastating force.
The earth trembled upon impact.
Dust and shattered rock exploded outward in every direction.
"Cough… cough… puke…!"
Blood spilled from his lips, one mouthful after another, staining the ground beneath him. His body was a wreck—bones fractured in countless places, his organs screaming in pain—yet none of it mattered. Not the wounds, not the agony, not even the creeping weakness overtaking his limbs.
All he could do was stare.
Stare at the monstrosity standing before him.
The towering abyssal beast, its form twisted beyond recognition, loomed over him like a calamity given flesh. The abyssal dust that composed its body swirled hungrily, devouring even the light around it. Bones jutted from its grotesque frame, and its presence alone radiated a terror unlike anything he had ever known.
Yet, for Long Wangchu—it wasn't just a monster.
Not too long ago, they had parted ways.
One had gone in search of his master.
The other had stayed behind, waiting for his return.
And now—they had finally reunited.
But this wasn't a reunion.
This was a nightmare.
His father—the Dragon Lord—had returned.
But he was no longer the man who had once ruled the Ancestral Dragon Clan.
No longer a living being.
He had become a walking disaster, an unholy amalgamation of abyssal dust and bone, something that should not exist.
If others could recognize this monstrous entity as the former Dragon Lord, then how could he—Long Wangchu, the Dragon Lord's only son—fail to recognize his own father?!!
His vision blurred, the world around him distorting as tears fell uncontrollably from his reddened eyes. His heart, once filled with hope, collapsed into despair.
His trembling hand—once steady, once strong—reached out.
Reached out to the very being that had raised him.
Reached out to the father he had once known.
"Father… It's me…!"
His voice cracked, weak and desperate, filled with a desperate plea for recognition.
For a moment—**just a moment—**he hoped.
Hoped that something human still remained within that monstrous frame.
Hoped that somewhere beneath the abyssal corruption, his father still recognized him.
But the abyss did not return his plea.
"ROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!"
A deafening roar of destruction erupted from the abyssal beast, tearing through the air like a storm of annihilation.
Before Long Wangchu could react, the beast's massive claws struck.
BOOOOMMMM!!!!
The impact sent him flying, his body twisting violently through the air.
Blood sprayed in every direction, a crimson trail marking his path as he was hurled across the battlefield, crashing into the shattered earth like a broken ragdoll.
His mind blurred, his body crumbling under the force of the blow.
And in that moment, the cruel truth finally sank in.
His father was gone.
"BOOOMMMM... BOOOOMMMM... BOOOMMMM!!!!"
Long Wangchu's body tore through the sky like a falling star, crashing through mountain after mountain, each impact shaking the land with a deafening tremor. The ancient peaks, which had stood undisturbed for countless ages, crumbled beneath the force of his battered form. His bones shattered further with every collision, his golden blood splattering across the sacred land of his ancestors.
When his broken body finally came to a halt, it was no longer in the sky but sprawled across the ground, barely recognizable. His entire frame was mangled, his scales cracked and torn away, leaving his once-proud form drenched in blood and dust. The agony that coursed through him was unbearable, yet his mind was too overwhelmed to even register the full depth of his pain.
High above, in the sky of the Ancestral Dragon Mountain Range, Yun Che stood, his entire figure cloaked in the churning abyssal dust that swirled around him like a living storm. His expression remained unreadable, but for a brief moment, his eyebrows lifted slightly.
Something unexpected had happened.
For a fleeting instant, Yun Che had sensed resistance—a small, almost imperceptible hesitation from the Abyssal Dragon Lord.
That resistance was weak—barely a flicker—but it was enough to alter the beast's attack. Given its unimaginable cultivation level, its abyssal attack at such close proximity should have annihilated Long Wangchu outright. There should have been nothing left of him.
Yet, he had survived.
But Yun Che's control over the Abyssal Dust was absolute.
And in the face of his dominion, resistance was futile.
The hesitation lasted no more than a breath, and then—it was gone.
Under Yun Che's will, the Abyssal Dragon Lord rushed forward once more, its massive form surging through the air like a calamity descending upon the earth.
Long Wangchu, lying amidst his own blood, felt the earth tremble beneath him as the shadow of the beast loomed over his broken form. He barely had the strength to move, barely had the clarity of mind to react.
Yet—his eyes still worked.
And as he lifted his bloodied, trembling gaze, he saw it.
The monstrous figure of his father—or what was left of him—standing before him.
There was no hesitation this time.
The Abyssal Dragon Lord lowered its massive head.
Its abyssal form, once majestic and revered, now twisted and grotesque, loomed over him as its monstrous maw stretched open.
A gaping void of destruction.
A mouth that did not simply devour flesh—but erased existence itself.
Long Wangchu's lips parted, but no sound came. No words. No pleas. No cries.
His father—the one he had spent his whole life admiring, the one he had always waited for—was about to consume him.
And in his final moment, as the black abyss of the dragon's mouth closed around him, Long Wangchu could no longer tell if the pain in his chest came from his broken body… or his broken heart.
Then, in an instant—
He was swallowed whole.
"....I'm sorry....father..."
Those were Long Wangchu's final words.
A whisper—barely audible, barely a breath—as the crushing weight pressed down upon him.
"Crack… crack… BANG!!!!"
The sickening sound of bones shattering, flesh rupturing, and organs collapsing filled the air. His body—already battered beyond recognition—was reduced to nothing more than a mangled, unrecognizable paste.
The Abyssal Dust surged hungrily, coiling around what little remained, eroding both his body and soul in an instant.
There was nothing left.
No trace that he had ever existed.
His words—his final regrets—were swallowed by the abyss, leaving behind only silence.
No one would ever know what those last words truly meant.
Perhaps he regretted his own weakness, cursing himself for being born without the talent or power to protect what he cherished.
Perhaps he grieved for his father's fate, the reality that the man he had once admired no longer existed—that his father's soul had been twisted, erased, replaced by the monstrous shell that now stood before him.
But whatever it was—no one would ever know.
Because Long Wangchu was gone.