Chapter 34

The ancestral temple, which had been silent only moments before, was suddenly swept by winds from an unknown source, accompanied by the thunderous roar echoing overhead.

The wind blew with such force that all the memorial tablets displayed on the upper altar began to tremble. It also caused the portrait of the middle-aged man, who had just opened his eyes, to ripple and sway.

The sudden, inexplicable wind immediately put everyone on high alert. Ao Qing lifted his eyes toward the portrait. He noticed that the formerly ordinary ink-wash portrait—which had shown no signs of life when he scanned it with his divine sense moments ago—now possessed eyes that revealed a trace of something indescribable, a flicker of humanity.

The figure’s gaze was fixed directly upon the tiny child kneeling on the prayer mat in the center of the hall.

Meanwhile, the little one seemed completely unaware of the turmoil. Unaffected by the roaring winds and the thunder, she remained obediently prostrate on the ground. She kowtowed once more and spoke earnestly, "Worship."

It is said that one must kowtow three times when paying respects to ancestors. Youyou, being an obedient child, naturally followed the custom.

The moment her second kowtow touched the floor, the middle-aged man in the portrait—who had only just opened his eyes—slightly lifted his arm, causing the canvas to snap and flutter violently.

Seeing the howling winds and the thunder rolling across the ancestral lands, Ao Qing’s expression shifted. To ensure that none of the powerful figures who had once annihilated the Gong clan had left behind divine senses or hidden traps, he and the former sect leader had meticulously scoured every remnant of the clan. He had personally inspected every object in the ancestral temple, confirming beyond a doubt that everything was mundane and harmless. Even upon entering the temple today, he had checked the entire space with his immortal-grade divine sense. Yet, a portrait that should have been utterly ordinary had undergone a transformation the moment Yu Youyou bowed.

A vast, overwhelming pressure descended from the scroll. Even Ao Qing, an immortal-grade expert, was momentarily locked in place by that faint, passing glance, and he abruptly vomited a mouthful of blood.

As the blood splattered, the little one, who had been about to continue her kowtows, paused in confusion. She turned her head, eyes wide, and looked at her grand-uncle, whose face had flushed a deep red.

"Uncle?" she asked, kneeling blankly on the prayer mat.

Sect Leader Yu’s expression turned grim. Despite being unable to move under the pressure of the portrait—his throat constricted—he suddenly broke free from the suppression. He lunged toward his daughter, who remained on the mat, seemingly oblivious to the gale and the crushing weight.

As he broke through the heavy restraint and rushed over, the little one looked at the approaching middle-aged man, blinked, and asked in a puzzled, innocent voice, "Daddy?"

Chu Xingyun, whose cultivation was the weakest, struggled to summon a magical artifact, throwing it in Youyou’s direction before collapsing to the ground. His slender hand covered his mouth, but blood dripped through his fingers.

Though everyone was present, they were all so suppressed that they could not utter a word.

Just as Sect Leader Yu and the artifact reached Youyou’s side, the middle-aged man on the altar, who had only been able to move his arms, sighed softly. He looked toward the rolling thunder outside the temple and the endless ruins beyond, his eyes filled with sorrow. Then, he raised one hand and gave a gentle wave.

With a loud crash, Sect Leader Yu was swept aside, and the magical artifact fell to the ground, its spiritual glow dimming.

The child was already on edge. Seeing her father struck away and her grand-uncle and eldest senior brother vomiting blood, she grew anxious. She turned her head and shouted, "Bad!"

She did not understand what was happening with the figure in the portrait, but at that moment, she felt that anyone who hurt her family was truly bad.

This childish accusation made the middle-aged man appear even more sorrowful. Meeting his eyes, the little one felt a sudden wave of dizziness, as if time were shifting before her.

It was as if... she had seen him somewhere before.

She had seen him look at her with an affectionate smile. She had seen him sighing gently while looking at her. She saw him struggling to cast her into the clouds, while she floated amidst endless bloodshed, watching as countless gods and demons fell...

The little one froze. Her mind was filled with what seemed like nightmares she could never quite recall, and the figure before her seemed to shimmer. A flood of conflicting memories left her unable to distinguish reality from illusion, and even the people lying on the floor became blurred.

She remained stiff on the prayer mat, dumbstruck, yet she instinctively called out toward Sect Leader Yu, "Daddy!"

For the first time, the middle-aged man in the portrait showed a trace of relief. He seemed to sigh softly, his arms breaking free from the canvas to become solid, and he slammed his fists toward the ground.

The impact was like heavy hammers striking the earth, vibrating through the entire valley. With a thunderous roar, the ancestral temple and the entire Gong clan’s lands shook violently. The earth heaved, the wind intensified, and the thunder outside the temple grew frantic.

Ao Qing struggled to look outside and saw endless lightning gathering over the cliffs, thick black clouds shrouding the entire territory. Violent, dark purple heavenly lightning, reminiscent of the immortal tribulation he had once faced, snaked across the sky, raining down with a devastating force as if intending to wipe the Gong clan from existence.

Ignoring the lightning that made even Ao Qing’s immortal soul tremble with fear, the middle-aged man freed himself further from the portrait and slammed his fists into the ground again.

The child remained kneeling on the prayer mat, having lost all sense of her surroundings. Sect Leader Yu’s eyes were bloodshot with desperation.

Suddenly, a response to the man's rhythmic striking echoed from beneath the earth.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The sounds came from deep within the foundation of the Gong clan. In an instant, a dark, ghostly spiritual light surged from the ground where the man had struck, carrying something within it. The light paused, spinning in mid-air.

The moment the light appeared, everyone felt a primal, hair-raising terror. It was an innate fear, like meeting a top-tier predator in the food chain; it felt as if one would be greedily devoured the moment that light took notice.

The black light hovered above the little one, who had blankly lifted her head to look at it.

Sect Leader Yu struggled and cried out, "Youyou!"

The child paused, and the object within the light paused as well. A dangerous aura rippled outward, and suddenly, the object—whose true form remained obscured—shuddered and spat out a speck of golden light.

The golden light let out a dragon’s roar, transforming into a golden dragon shape that dove straight into the dragon egg beside Ao Qing.

The egg rocked slightly. Ao Qing’s soul wavered, and for the first time, he felt a rational, conscious dragon’s roar emerge from the once-silent egg.

Waves of dragon pressure emanated from the egg, which had been dormant for three hundred years, now pulsing with vivid, living energy.

The shell began to crack with a sharp sound. Ao Qing’s spirit cleared, and he looked at the middle-aged man in the portrait, who gave him a slight nod.

Suddenly understanding, Ao Qing stopped struggling and watched the dragon egg in the howling wind.

The shell shattered. A streak of golden light darted in and out, carrying a majestic, vast dragon aura. As the light appeared, the heavens seemed to roar in anger; endless lightning crashed down from the sky, engulfing the entire ancestral temple.

The lightning was overwhelming, drowning the entire Gong clan. The eggshell ceased its movement, then abruptly burst apart completely. As the shards fell to the ground, a streak of golden light, accompanied by a deafening roar, shot out of the temple to meet the incoming lightning.

Ao Qing: "..."

Ao Qing: "?"

Are dragon cubs this wild nowadays? They want to smash their own lightning tribulation the moment they hatch?!

Having been a dragon for a thousand years, Ao Qing had truly never seen such a thing, nor had he ever seen a dragon cub get struck by lightning the moment it was born.

Thinking of the egg that had been silent for three hundred years, and the golden dragon soul released by the middle-aged man, Ao Qing closed his eyes.

He felt a sudden lightness, as if he were no longer suppressed by the middle-aged man. He turned and transformed into a ten-thousand-foot green dragon, also weaving his way into the endless lightning raining down upon the temple.

High in the firmament, the roars of the divine dragon shook the wilderness. The massive green dragon stretched its body, firmly shielding the ancestral temple below.

The middle-aged man in the portrait looked with complex emotions at the object flickering within the black light. The light and the hidden object rotated together, and after a moment, they spat out tiny, dim specks of light.

These sesame-sized sparks transformed into flickering human silhouettes in mid-air. When Sect Leader Yu looked up, he was shocked. The figures crowding the temple were men and women, old and young, mostly dazed and confused. However, the few at the forefront appeared more solid, their eyes retaining a measure of clarity.

"That is..."

Most of their faces were blurry, but the handsome, scholarly middle-aged man at the very front was clearly the former head of the Gong clan, who had perished during the clan’s extermination.

Unlike the others who remained in a daze, he seemed to retain a sliver of reason. Appearing in the temple, he instinctively looked toward the little one, who was still kneeling on the prayer mat in a state of stupor.

Watching this child who was paying respects to the ancestors, he felt a primal instinct. He reached out, wanting to stroke the hair of this child—whoever she belonged to, she was undoubtedly a descendant of the Gong clan.

His thin, transparent hand passed through her hair.

The soul, which looked exactly like the former clan head, looked lost for a moment before turning toward Sect Leader Yu. His lips trembled, but he could not speak, and he turned to the middle-aged man in the portrait for help.

Sect Leader Yu also hurriedly looked at the portrait. If the strange occurrences in the temple had made him wary—fearing it was a trap left behind by the powerful enemies who had destroyed the clan—then the appearance of the clan head and so many other spirits of the Gong clan, all clearly linked to the actions of the man in the portrait, changed everything.