A few days later, Yueling and her group suddenly spot a massive shadow moving over the ocean surface, and when they look up, they see a flying beast soaring westward.

Som points, wide-eyed, and shouts, “That beast—its form is like the Dragon Master’s, but its aura is far stronger, and the colour of its scales has changed!”

The others nod, their expressions stiff with disbelief as Yueling murmurs, “It’s him… the Dragon Master.”

Shock spreads across the ship—everyone of them understands that their plan has failed, and while many feel frustration, Yueling feels only relief.

She knows with certainty now: if they had launched the ambush, they would all be dead, because the power radiating from Merin’s current form makes her doubt whether even the sealing formations would’ve worked.

Merin, flying above them, notices the people gathered on the ship below but spares them no more than a glance, assuming they’re simply travellers or cultivators drawn to the Sky Mountain and its gravity-rich environment.

He had already met the Sky Serpent, who told him something he hadn’t expected—that he, too, was transforming into one of the alien beasts born of the world, like the Sky Serpent itself.

These beings shoulder the will of the world, born from its essence, tied to its balance—but while the Sky Serpent was born to that purpose, Merin is not, and even the Sky Serpent doesn’t know whether Merin will receive the same blessings once his transformation is complete.

But Merin doesn’t care for immortality that is granted—it always comes with strings, and what can be given can also be taken away.

He wants immortality forged by his own hands, but if the world does offer a piece of it, he’ll accept it—if only to understand the path toward true self-made eternity.

With these thoughts circling in his mind, Merin continues his flight, carrying Yanli and the others on his back, their weight insignificant against the overwhelming power coursing through his transformed body.

Travelling by ship would have taken months, with countless dangers lurking in the vast ocean—but instead, he climbs higher, piercing through clouds, and channels the artistic conceptions of wind and thunder to propel himself westward with blinding speed.

But it doesn’t take days—by the next morning, Saisei City comes into view, and Merin’s golden eyes narrow into a deep frown.

Where once stood a thriving city now lies a massive lake, its still waters swallowing shattered towers and submerged ruins, with only a few broken structures protruding from the surface like gravestones.

He instantly understands—Saisei City has been destroyed, wiped out in an overwhelming assault.

His thoughts snap to his parents, and with a sharp breath, he expands his perception outward, stretching it in all directions to find any trace of them.

But no familiar presence greets him—only silence, absence, and the faint residue of power.

Then he senses it—the rule of thunder, far stronger than before.

His expression hardens, fury rising like a storm, because now he doesn’t need to guess who was responsible.

He already knows.

All he needs is confirmation.

He senses Haruto in one of the newly built settlements near the edge of the lake, and Haruto, sensing him too, rises into the sky.

Merin dives beneath the clouds and flies straight toward him, golden eyes glowing with urgency.

Even before reaching him, Merin sends a wave of mental energy, voice sharp and strained: What happened? Are my parents safe?

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Haruto halts midair, his expression grim as he exhales slowly.

“The Five Ancestors attacked during the reward ceremony of the Youth Competition… your parents were there,” he says.

“When the chaos settled, the city had turned into a lake, and we couldn’t find their bodies.”

Merin falls silent.

The wind around him stills.

A heartbeat later, he opens his wings and releases the others from his back, lowering them gently toward the surface of the lake with a flicker of controlled power.

Without a word, he turns and shoots westward, rage erupting from his core like a sun cracking through stone.

He doesn’t realise—and wouldn’t care if he did—that his emotions are no longer contained by the rule body.

He doesn’t need to summon a rule body with origin liquid anymore.

The dragon form is no longer a transformation—it is his true form.

Even when he returns to human shape, it will only be the body of a dragon wearing flesh.

Merin is no longer human.

He is a dragon.

And a dragon has been wronged.

Merin’s rapid surge in strength, the rule body’s failure to suppress his emotions, and the news of his parents’ disappearance leave him spiralling in a storm he cannot calm.

In his past life on Earth, he was an orphan who never knew a parent’s love.

Then he was reborn as a tree, watching the world without ever feeling it.

Only in this life was he born with parents who held him, scolded him, worried for him, and loved him.

After awakening his past memories at fourteen, he hadn’t stayed long at home, always chasing strength, always moving.

And yet, his time in Saisei City—those quiet months—was the longest he’d ever truly spent with them.

Though his parents remained cautious, uncertain before his vast status and power, he had the memories of Kanoru before the awakening, like watching a fourteen-year-long film that, despite its detachment, burned with warmth.

Now that warmth feels stolen.

In a matter of minutes, Merin reaches the middle fortress of Rugen, the stronghold between Mugenkai and Somers.

The morning sky is still hazy when the attack from the Yao region begins, and he answers with a roar that splits the air like thunder.

All fighting ceases.

Heads snap upward.

And from above the clouds, Merin dives.

He descends like vengeance incarnate, his scales jade-green, his golden eyes burning brighter than fire.

The enemy freezes, paralysed in awe and terror.

From the fortress, the Spirit Masters watch in shock—and then grim determination, realising his intent.

Their fury over Saisei City’s fall has simmered too long, and now Merin becomes their spark.

They rise and intercept the Dharma Realm Yaos, locking them in battle to keep them from interfering.

Merin, breathing deep in his chest, opens his jaw wide and unleashes a torrent of green flame.

This is no ordinary fire.

Forged from vitality, it clings, devours, and persists.

Once touched, it does not burn flesh—it devours the life force itself.

No sand can smother it. No water can quench it.

It is the fury of a dragon who has lost what he cherished.

After tearing through the frontlines and leaving the battlefield scorched and broken, Merin flies deeper into the Yao region for the first time in his life, not to explore its culture or meet its people as he once imagined, but to unleash devastation.

He descends on an enemy camp, and three Dharma Realm Yaos rise to confront him, their human forms vanishing as they shift into their true beast bodies: a golden leopard, a bloodsteel badger, and a mountain-splitting bear.

Individually, they are no match for Merin, but together they slow him down, force him into a brutal midair battle that stretches his strength.

His rage begins to cool mid-fight, clarity returning to his mind as instinct gives way to strategy.

He realises pushing deeper would risk his life, and he hasn’t achieved his goal yet.

He cannot waste his life chasing revenge too early, not when time will one day make it easy.

So Merin retreats, withdrawing from the skies of the Yao region, the enemy too wary to pursue.

But even as he retreats, the battle exposes something he hadn’t seen before—a flaw.

In his past life, dragons were said to be perfect creatures.

Yet his dragon form, forged from the life structures of lizards, snakes, and fish, though powerful, carries their weaknesses alongside their strengths.

A perfect creature should have none.

These flaws, he now understands, might vanish only if he weaves in the life structures of other beings—plants, beasts, even anything that pulses with vitality.

With this revelation burning in his mind like a quiet flame, Merin flies over Rugen and returns to where Saisei City once stood, now a silent lake under the pale moonlight.

In a few hours, he senses Yanli and his younger siblings in one of the nearby camps, the settlement quiet as most have retired for the night.

He hovers silently above, suppressing the sound of his wings with the artistic conception of wind, and sends a mental message to Yanli, his brother, and his sister to come out.

Minutes later, he sees them emerge from the camp—his siblings run to him immediately, and his sister bursts into tears, forcing him to land and gently comfort her.

After a brief reunion and some quiet conversation, Merin reveals the true reason for his visit: he’s returning to the Sky Mountain.

He tells them the environment there is ideal for deepening his comprehension of the rule of vitality, something he must master.

He asks Yanli to take care of his brother and sister in his absence and requests that their marriage be postponed until he returns in his human form.

With their farewells said and the night holding its breath, Merin soars once more into the sky, his silhouette vanishing eastward toward the Sky Mountain.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep