"What's going on?"
Cang Che's gaze turned cold as he reined in his mount, preparing to step forward to investigate.
He discovered that it wasn't just the whale-shark strongmen; even the accompanying officials and the usually well-trained royal guards were exhibiting signs of abnormality.
A strange flush had risen to all of their faces simultaneously.
It was the physical manifestation of surging qi and blood.
"..."
"Huu..."
Heavy, ragged breathing echoed through the procession.
Every member of the Sea Race, regardless of their cultivation level, felt their heart pounding violently within their chest. Their blood flow accelerated as if an inexplicable power was awakening a bloodline that had been dormant for ages.
That sensation was like a wanderer hearing their mother's call after years abroad, or a devout believer sensing the direct gaze of a god.
A primal shiver, originating from the depths of their souls and impossible to resist, instantly swept through their bodies.
It was reverence.
It was longing.
More than anything, it was an overwhelming urge to prostrate themselves in worship.
"What is this feeling?"
A young crab general clutched his chest in confusion. He felt his hard carapace growing slightly warm, and the demonic qi within him was dancing with joy, as if something ahead was exerting an irresistible pull on him.
"I want... I really want to go over there."
"I can feel my power restlessly stirring. Have I become stronger?"
The procession began to descend into chaos. The previously disciplined formation loosened as many subconsciously quickened their pace. Some even attempted to bypass the Sea Emperor's sedan to reach the front.
"Impudent!"
Witnessing this, Cang Che's face instantly darkened.
"Panic and disorder—where is your decorum!"
He slammed his heels into his mount, and the sea beast let out a roar as it surged to the flank of the procession.
Cang Che's eyes were like lightning as he scanned his agitated kinsmen, his voice sharp with rebuke.
"Imperial Father is right at the front, yet you dare break rank?"
"As the royal guards, do you possess so little composure?"
"A mere wisp of an unknown aura has you losing your wits. If you were to encounter an enemy's charm technique, would you not defect on the spot?"
"Steady yourselves!"
"Anyone else who breaks rank will be dealt with by military law!"
Cang Che's voice, carrying the inherent majesty of the merfolk royalty, exploded through the seawater, making everyone's ears ring painfully.
He was inwardly fuming.
These people usually seemed reliable enough. Why were they falling apart at such a critical moment?
Was it because they had been tormented by the black spots for so long that their mental fortitude had become fragile?
"Utterly pathetic."
Cang Che let out a cold snort, preparing to lecture them further.
But the moment he opened his mouth, a trace of the aura drifted with the current and entered his nostrils.
In that instant, the words Cang Che intended to bark out became stuck in his throat.
His pupils dilated violently. His sharp, piercing gaze turned glazed and distant within a heartbeat.
"..."
"What is... this scent?"
Cang Che quickly realized it wasn't just a scent.
It was more like a form of pressure—the absolute dominance exerted by a high-tier lifeform over a lower one.
Cang Che felt every scale on his body stand on end.
As a member of the merfolk royalty, the sliver of true dragon blood within his chest was roaring, burning, and cheering in a frenzy.
It was like a riverbed that had been parched for ten thousand years finally welcoming a torrential flood.
The sensation was so intense and domineering that Cang Che's logic and self-control collapsed instantly, crumbling into dust.
His princely dignity, his military discipline, his composed and refined bearing—all of it was cast to the winds.
Only one thought remained in his mind.
Go!
Get over there!
To the source of that aura!
To have an audience with the supreme existence ahead!
It was instinct, etched into his bones, flowing in his blood, and a loyalty passed down through tens of thousands of years!
"How... how could it be like this?"
Cang Che's body began to tremble uncontrollably. He tried to restrain himself, tried to stay conscious, telling himself it might be a hallucination or a trap.
But his body had already betrayed his will.
Swish!
A blue light cut through the murky seawater.
Cang Che didn't even care about his mount; he simply abandoned the beast and bolted.
Exploding with the fastest speed of his life, he shot from the rear of the procession, instantly bypassing the guards, the dazed civil and military officials, and even the Sea Emperor's sedan.
"Che'er?"
The Sea Emperor, who was leaning out of his sedan and inhaling greedily, suddenly felt a gale blast past him.
He squinted and saw his second son—the one who usually insisted on the strictest rules and loved to lecture others with a stern face—charging forward like a headless fly, his eyes bloodshot and his hair disheveled.
Where was the slightest shred of royal decorum?
He was even more unsightly than the shrimp soldiers and crab generals who had lost their composure.
"This boy..."
The Sea Emperor was stunned for a moment, then a gratified smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"His mouth spoke of disbelief, but his body is quite honest."
"It seems there is no doubt—this truly is the Dragon Ancestor."
If the true dragon were not present, how could he and Cang Che, both of royal blood, lose their composure to such an extent?
The heavy weight in the Sea Emperor's heart finally lifted.
He glanced at the turtle prime minister and the crab general beside him, who were both looking intoxicated and ready to charge out themselves, and gave a light cough.
"What are you all standing around for?"
"Didn't you see the Second Prince going ahead to clear the path?"
"Speed up the march."
"Do not keep the Dragon Ancestor waiting."
The procession accelerated once more. There was no longer any need for encouragement; every member of the Sea Race acted as if they had been injected with adrenaline, scrambling to surge into the depths of the Red Coral Trench.
At the very front of the procession, Cang Che was so overexcited that he couldn't even grip his weapon steadily.
Closer.
They were getting closer.
The aura that made his soul yearn to kneel grew increasingly thick.
He could even feel that the surrounding seawater had changed.
The murky water that had been filled with the stench of rot had become clear here. It even carried a faint pressure that kept the rampaging black spots at bay.
"It's just ahead!"
Cang Che's eyes were fixed forward.
He rounded a massive cluster of coral, and the scene before him suddenly opened up.
On the seabed ahead, in a dead zone that should have been smothered by black spots, a strange and sacred sight presented itself.
The sand and silt there had turned grayish-white, as if thoroughly purified by some force, or perhaps like defiled earth that had lost all vitality.
In the water, countless black ashes drifted down like a snowfall in the deep sea.
And upon that defiled earth...
Countless pale bone hands reached out from the ground, death-gripping several black-spot monsters that were still struggling.
Those black-spot monsters, which had caused him such headaches and seemed impossible to kill off, were completely powerless before these bone hands.
The monsters let out silent wails before being swiftly dragged into the defiled earth by the bone hands.
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