445: Chapter 445 The Rise of the Dragon, Phoenix, and Unicorn: Contending for Supremacy in the Primord

At this time, the Primordial World had just settled, and the myriad phenomena were gradually taking shape. The three innate clans quietly gathered, their momentum growing daily, faintly propping up a corner of heaven and earth.

After Jiang Chen had been in secluded cultivation for a million years, one day, the nine heavens suddenly trembled and the eight desolations harmonized in resonance!

“Today, the Ancestral Dragon of the Dragon Clan establishes the Dragon Court in the East Sea to govern all scaled creatures. Let the Heavenly Dao bear witness!”

“Today, the Phoenix Ancestor of the Phoenix Clan establishes the Phoenix Court in the Southern Ridges to command all feathered creatures. Let the Heavenly Dao bear witness!”

“Today, the Kirin Ancestor of the Kirin Clan establishes the Kirin Court in the Western Desolation to shepherd all beasts. Let the Heavenly Dao bear witness!”

Three grand voices thundered through the ears, echoing in every inch of the Primordial World's void. All living spirits looked on in awe, and even the plants and trees were startled.

The Ancestral Dragon was transformed from Pangu's hair and beard, inheriting the innate clear Qi; he was born to control water and possessed ten thousand transformations. The Phoenix Ancestor was condensed from Pangu's eyelashes, absorbing the innate fire essence; she could burn the eight desolations and was undying through baptism by fire. The Kirin Ancestor was born from Pangu's toenails, merging with the innate earthly soul; he understood Yin and Yang and the Five Elements, bringing spring wherever he stepped, his dharmic power stretching endlessly.

The ancestors of the three clans were all top-tier existences from the dawn of chaos, possessing world-shaking divine abilities and unyielding pride. Their fiery temperaments and arrogance chased after the ancient Fiendgods—only lacking that world-destroying malevolence, differing by more than a thousandfold.

As soon as the three decrees fell, the Heavenly Dao actually descended a faint golden glow, seemingly granting recognition. The three ancestors felt a slight stir in their hearts and simultaneously birthed a thought: since they had received heaven's mandate, they should rule according to heaven's will. Once this thought took root, it grew wildly—since destiny was on their side, how could they allow the position of Primordial Overlord to fall to others? The other two clans must be completely eradicated!

From then on, weapons were raised everywhere, and slaughter was constant. Whether through frontal crushing, secret death traps, clever inducements, or forceful coercion... the entire Primordial World instantly fell into a bloodbath, with no more days of peace.

Every clan immediately focused on its own interests, running day and night to recruit the rogue tribes of the Primordial World, frantically expanding their combat strength. In a short time, the prestige of the three clans spread like a prairie fire, their momentum overbearing, as if they had become the most noble clans perched high in the clouds, not to be offended.

However, such forceful conscription offended the Primordial cultivators across the board, sowing countless hidden grudges. This resentment quietly accumulated; once the three clans declined, it would surely pour out like a landslide or a tsunami—at that time, even being uprooted and reduced to ashes would not be an exaggeration.

No matter how great one's divine abilities, it is hard to defy destiny. Though the three clans were flourishing now, their struggle for hegemony caused heaven and earth to lose balance and all spirits to wail; their strengths were evenly matched, and none could swallow the others. Thus, they one by one withdrew their edges and buried themselves in bitter cultivation, waiting to be the first to break through their shackles, settle the matter with one blow, and eliminate future troubles forever.

This thought was deeply rooted in the hearts of all those in power within the three clans; none were willing to lag behind. Tens of millions of years passed; Golden Immortals were as common as rain, Taiyi Immortals were everywhere, and there were over a hundred Daluo True Monarchs, firmly occupying the peak of the Primordial World.

The strength of the three clans was no longer something ordinary mighty figures could shake. Even existences like Hongjun and Luo Hou avoided their sharp edge, turning instead to set up secret chessboards and use the momentum for their own games, not daring to clash head-on.

Laughably, the three clans were completely unaware: on the surface, this tribulation was a struggle for hegemony among three clans, but in reality, they were merely pawns on someone else's chessboard—what Hongjun and Luo Hou were truly competing for was that supreme Holy Seat of Heaven and Earth. Their arrogance was actually comparable to the crowd of Fiendgods at the dawn of chaos, which was truly staggering.

Jiang Chen was deep in secluded cultivation comprehending profound mysteries when he was suddenly awakened by the vast momentum of the three clans swearing oaths to the Heavenly Dao, and annoyance immediately rose in his heart. But with a little thought, he knew the Great Tribulation had arrived and was unavoidable. He was currently only at the peak of Daluo, not yet having stepped onto the threshold of Quasi-Saint, and a sense of crisis hung over him like a blade—of the top-tier great gods who fell in this tribulation, which one wasn't a Quasi-Saint? He was still far off and could only cultivate bitterly with all his might to find a slim chance of survival.

With a light flick of his sleeve, the Wuji Grotto-Heaven was instantly sealed like iron, isolated from the inside and out. He calmed his mind and plunged into the Imprint of Creation, observing it minutely.

Pangu's creation of the world—how magnificent! The axe light split the chaos, earth, water, wind, and fire surged like boiling water, and boundless turbulence roared and raged, yet it could not stop that indomitable spine. Those trajectories that cut through delusion were not just marks of power, but projections of will—why split the chaos? Why grit his teeth to hold it up? Why not hesitate to let his form and spirit shatter?

The Dao is vast and formless, untransmittable by words, invisible to the eye, only to be imprinted with the heart, harmonized with the intent, and witnessed with the body. What Pangu sought was precisely this unspeakable, ungraspable, and immeasurable Dao. He walked to the end and still did not look back, using his body as fuel and burning himself out just to illuminate the original appearance of the Great Dao.

This resolution shook the past and present; this obsession was heart-wrenching; this will to seek the Dao had long since surpassed life and death, reaching straight to the source.

Was he not the same now? Becoming strong to live, and seeking the Dao to be strong, going from shallow to deep, ascending step by step—how could it be achieved overnight? Just like a beggar suddenly becoming a tycoon, his vision changed, his character changed, and what he sought and guarded naturally became entirely different.

The fires of the tribulation were about to burn, and there was no way to retreat. The ancestors of the three clans were born as Daluo; after tens of millions of years, they should have entered the Quasi-Saint realm long ago. If he slacked off, he would be trapping himself in a death trap.

It wasn't just him. Hongjun and Luo Hou were also tightening their heartstrings, working day and night just to fight for this Great Seat of Heaven and Earth—to lose meant their souls would be scattered, with no day of reversal.

Aside from these three, the other mighty figures of the Primordial World might not have glimpsed the truth yet. They were also cultivating bitterly, but only to live freely and leisurely, unaware that so-called leisure was always tied to one's own cultivation.

After tens of millions of years of dormancy, the accumulated cracks of the three clans finally surfaced, tightening day by day. Overwhelming baleful Qi filled the firmament, pressing down until the stars dimmed, and even the various mighty figures felt their hearts grow heavy, faintly smelling the danger of total destruction. But those who truly saw the situation clearly were few—yet the danger had truly approached.

East Sea Dragon Palace.

The Ancestral Dragon sat on the dragon throne, his gaze like an abyss, scanning the ministers in the hall, his voice heavy as thunder: “Is the army prepared?”

At the head of the left row, the Patriarch of the Turtle Clan and Prime Minister of the Dragon Palace, Gui Yu, stood up abruptly, cupped his hands, and shouted: “Reporting to the Dragon Emperor! A hundred thousand dragon troops are arrayed and on standby, their armor bright and their blades drinking frost, just waiting for a single command to trample the enemy camp and wash the world in blood!”

“Good! Hearty!” The Ancestral Dragon rose to his full height, a domineering aura soaring into the sky. The East Sea instantly surged with waves a thousand feet high, the sea of clouds collapsed, and heaven and earth changed color.

“By your command, Lord Dragon Emperor! This battle must be won.”

Everyone responded in unison, the blood in their chests surging, truly hard to restrain—how could they not be excited? The Dragon Clan's foundation was no longer what it used to be, far exceeding what it was tens of millions of years ago; individual combat strength was like a blade drawn from its sheath, and the clan's momentum was like a rushing torrent. In terms of sharp edge alone, both the Phoenix Clan and Kirin Clan found it hard to see their backs. Everyone wore expressions of excitement; victory was within their grasp, with almost no suspense.

The Primordial Immortal Volcano... the Primordial Mount Buzhou...

“Finally, the curtain is about to rise. The heavenly secrets have moved; who will emerge victorious?”

At the eastern and western poles, the thoughts of two giants vibrated simultaneously. Without need for words, the struggle for victory was like an arrow on a string—who would be willing to yield half a step? The authority of heaven and earth is held only by the strong.

“It’s coming; it can’t be avoided after all. Since I’ve stepped into this game, how can I stand by and watch? With my current cultivation, if I don’t step out and try, I’d be failing this body and this courage. A person can hide their edge, but when doing things, one must show the blade; if a legend isn't established, how can one be a mighty figure? If the world doesn't remember your name, then you haven't truly reached the top. Besides... being able to trade blows face-to-face with legendary old monsters, isn't that a joyful thing?”

Jiang Chen slowly opened his eyes, a ghostly light flickering in his pupils before vanishing in an instant, as if it had never ignited. He stepped out of the small thatched hut and looked up at the sky, his sleeves fluttering lightly. The isolation formation silently collapsed, and the aura of the Primordial heaven and earth rushed toward him—of course, it was only completely open to him alone.

Indeed, after tens of millions of years of bitter cultivation, enduring the refining of the Imprint of Creation and digging deep into the source of Pangu's essence blood, he had finally pushed his cultivation to the peak of Quasi-Saint. He didn't take Hongjun's old path of the Three Corpses separation and seeking external validation; instead, he was somewhat similar to Pangu's Attaining the Dao through Strength, though it was only a similarity in form—truly Attaining the Dao through Strength is not something easily climbed.