Chapter 115 – Master Nie Heads South to Challenge the Dao Sect

A transmission from the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets shook the world—eight "Dragon-Nurturing Grounds" had emerged across the land, each brimming with great celestial fortune. The entirety of Great Zhou was stirred; factions from all corners began scouring the realm for these mystical sites. With the precedent of the Wolong Ridge secret realm still vivid, many powers had come to believe in the authenticity of such so-called fated encounters. Thus, the message from the Pavilion was taken with utmost seriousness—by martial sects, regional warlords, and governors alike.

Formerly restrained by the dominance of Tang Xiansheng in the Southern Prefecture, Tantai Xuan in the North, and Xiang Shaoyun in the West, the rest of the governors had been surviving in the crevices between these three forces, barely clinging to power. Now, this revelation offered them a rare opportunity to break the impasse. Mobilization began swiftly; armies assembled, weapons gleamed—each hoping this might be their chance to rise.

The martial world, Baiyu Capital, and various cultivation sects all turned their attention to these sites. Though the Pavilion did not disclose their exact locations, scouts and spies were dispatched en masse. Threads of clues would eventually weave together, and soon, the shroud veiling these Dragon Grounds began to lift.

Western Prefecture – Dongyan River

This was a furious river, coiling like a dragon with surging rapids and treacherous bends. Jagged rocks jutted along its banks like the spines of a beast. Yet today, the river's upper reaches were teeming with people—warriors clad in rough garb and bearing weapons had gathered in throngs.

"This is the place! Someone saw a pale ripple in the water, like a dragon swimming beneath!"

"The moment you approach, you feel an invisible pressure. It must be a Dragon-Nurturing Ground!"

"Those who seize the celestial chance here… may ascend to immortality in a single step!"

The warriors of the Western Prefecture were known for their fierceness. Their eyes burned with excitement, yet each remained wary, gauging the others around them.

Suddenly, amidst the roar of the river, the faint sound of hooves echoed in the distance. The martial artists turned sharply. A squad of ten iron cavalry riders emerged from the dust, led by a man astride a coal-black steed, lean as a blade, clad in light armor, and bearing an axe and shield on his back. His presence was crushing.

When they recognized him, a shiver coursed through the crowd.

"It's the Tyrant King!" one warrior cried out.

"The Xiliang Army is taking over. All unrelated personnel—withdraw. Violation… means death," said Xu Chu coldly, hefting two massive barbed hammers.

"Xiliang's gone too far! We were here first! The celestial chance belongs to the destined!" the crowd erupted in fury.

But before the unrest could swell, the Tyrant King raised his gaze, sweeping across them with a calm, chilling look.

"Destined? Who decided that?" His voice was low, almost casual.

Silence fell. No one dared reply.

"Withdraw a hundred miles from Dongyan River. Otherwise… even the destined must first live to meet their fate."

He dismounted. Panic surged through the crowd as the warriors scrambled away, weapons in tow.

With hands clasped behind his back, Xiang Shaoyun stepped onto a jagged boulder. He inhaled deeply as spiritual energy, serpent-like, flowed into him from the world.

"It truly is a Dragon-Nurturing Ground… such potent spiritual aura."

His eyes flashed with brilliance. With a leap, he plunged into the turbulent waters. Mist rose in billows, engulfing his figure.

On the shore, the fleeing warriors looked back in disbelief.

Did the Tyrant King just… leap into the river?

Suddenly—BOOM!

The river exploded. A massive white serpent burst from the depths, letting out a thunderous roar. With four limbs beneath its body, it writhed through the water, coiling with a mist that wrapped around the Tyrant King. He roared back, enveloped in inky demonic energy as black clashed against white. Waves exploded.

Dongyan River—The Tyrant King Battles the Dragon!

Dao Sect – Southern Prefecture

High in the Southern Prefecture rose the Tian Dang Mountain, shrouded in clouds year-round. At its summit stood the Star-Plucking Peak, so named because by night, the stars felt within arm's reach. Here, nestled among the mist, lay the Dao Sect—its white walls and azure tiles like the dwelling of immortals.

Of the Hundred Schools, few remained active in the Great Zhou. Among them, the Dao Sect still held its renown. The Sword Sect, the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets, the School of Strategy, and the Medical Sect stood beside them. The once-mighty Mohists had been decimated, along with the Yin-Yang Sect and Mechanists. The Military Sect faded with Bai Fengtian's death. The Agrarian, Legalist, and Confucian schools had long receded from the stage.

In a temple courtyard, a Daoist nun strolled slowly, gazing up at the dense clouds overhead. A look of concern flickered in her eyes. Within that mist, she seemed to glimpse a serpentine form, gliding and coiling—a long, shadowy presence.

Climbing to the rooftop, she stood straight, eyes wide, as the clouds descended, pressing closer. Her heart skipped a beat as a creature peered forth from the mist—eye to eye, face to face.

As the fervor to uncover the Dragon Grounds swept across the land, all eight were eventually revealed.

In the Southern Prefecture's great marsh, a massive serpent was spotted coiled against the earth. A man tried to capture it—only to be crushed and torn apart as it reared up. Thus, it was confirmed as a Dragon Ground. Governor Tang Xiansheng swiftly dispatched troops.

In Dongyang Prefecture, a rift in the earth glowed with crimson light. Elated by the discovery, the local governor sent an army of ten thousand, accompanied by hundreds of martial experts, into the chasm. Yet within, they encountered a blazing red serpent whose touch melted stone and incinerated men into char. Half the army perished. The governor's joy turned to sorrow—a stark warning that these sites held not only opportunity but unimaginable peril.

Across the Great Zhou, the winds of destiny churned.

Beiluo – Island in the Lake

Lu Fan sat in a wheelchair, leaning against the carved crimson railing, sipping plum wine while playing chess with Lü Dongxuan. His eyes shimmered with flowing lines of light, surveying the state of the Dragon Grounds across the empire.

Of the eight sites, most had already been uncovered. Tapping a piece, he murmured, "If the Dragon Grounds are almost fully revealed… then it's time to prepare the secret realms I've devised."

Below the pavilion, Nie Changqing approached, burden slung across his back. He bowed respectfully.

Lu Fan glanced at him. "Ready to depart?"

Nie Changqing smiled faintly. "I've waited long enough…"

His eyes shimmered with restrained emotion. A reunion he had longed for seemed finally within reach—something he had once thought impossible. But Lu Fan had granted him this chance.

"Master Lu," Nie asked suddenly, "When you say we'll 'take the Dao Sect'… do you mean to move the entire sect to this island, as you did with the Pavilion?"

Lü Dongxuan's aged face flushed red, pausing over the chessboard.

"This island isn't a place just anyone can come to," Lu Fan said softly.

Nie blinked in confusion.

Lu Fan did not elaborate. After all, this so-called 'absorption of the Hundred Schools' was not about relocating the sects to Lakeheart Island and slowly indoctrinating them. He had no interest in such tedious endeavors. The Hundred Schools developed far too slowly.

And he… had greater ambitions in mind.