The black warship, bearing a majestic silver character "TRAN" (陳), cleaved through the azure sea like a true black flood dragon. Gale-force winds whipped the black banner, making it snap and flutter, exuding an aura of profound silence yet absolute, tyrannical dominance.
This was no longer a pirate ship. This was the flagship of a king.
Upon the deck, the atmosphere was incredibly solemn. Over thirty figures clad in black armor stood silently at their posts, without a single extraneous movement. Man Nguu, his burly frame radiating an early Foundation Establishment aura, stood at the bow. Steadfast as a submerged reef, he was responsible for maintaining watch. The thirty members of the Sea Dragon Guard were divided into squads—some manning the rudder, others managing the sails. Every single action was executed with masterful proficiency and seamless coordination.
They were no longer a disorganized mob of rabble. Under Tran Kien's tempering, they had become a genuine war machine.
Tran Kien did not stand at the bow to display his prestige. He sat cross-legged within the cabin, his eyes tightly shut. Beside him was Old Kinh, carefully re-examining the ancient sea chart.
He was cultivating. He did not squander a single moment. He knew that this journey to Flame Mountain would certainly not be a peaceful one. One's own strength was the greatest guarantee. The Primordial Chaos Qi within his body, having stabilized at the peak of the late Foundation Establishment stage, was continuously being tempered and compressed by him, becoming ever more pristine. He was striving to seek the serendipity necessary to condense a Golden Core.
The voyage lasted ten days. For these ten days, the sea was exceedingly tranquil. It seemed that even the most ferocious sea monsters could sense the restrained yet terrifying killing intent radiating from the black warship and dared not draw near.
One afternoon, as the sun began its descent into the west, an ash-grey wall of mist—familiar beyond measure—once again materialized on the horizon.
The Misty Sea. The gateway to Flame Mountain.
"Exalted Lord," Man Nguu stepped forward, his voice solemn. "We have arrived."
Tran Kien slowly opened his eyes. He stood up, striding to the bow of the ship, facing the eerily silent wall of mist. The last time, he and Old Kinh had struggled immensely, surviving by a hair's breadth, to cross it.
But this time, things were entirely different.
"All hands, battle stations!" Man Nguu drew the battle-axe from his back and roared.
The remaining thirty-plus members sprang into action without the slightest hint of chaos. The Sea Dragon Guard formed a defensive perimeter, their killing intent erupting, prepared for a blood-soaked battle.
"Unnecessary," Tran Kien merely shook his head faintly.
He looked at his loyal subordinates, his voice placid.
"This battle does not belong to me. It is yours."
"Show me," he said, his gaze sweeping over each of them. "The fruits of your training over this past period."
He had absolutely no intention of using his token to open the path. He wanted to use this very battle to temper the will and confidence of his army.
Without a shred of hesitation, the black warship plunged straight into the wall of mist.
The world was once again submerged in an endless expanse of ash-grey. A deathly silence descended.
But that silence did not last long.
Rustle... rustle...
Those familiar sounds echoed once more. From within the mist, hundreds, thousands of Mist Soul Snakes—serpents coalesced from resentful energy and fog—surged forth like a tide, encircling the ship.
Had this been the past, facing such a horrific spectacle, the pirates would have undoubtedly panicked. But the Sea Dragon Guard of today held not a single trace of fear in their eyes. There was only frigid coldness and towering battle lust.
"Form the array!" Man Nguu roared.
The thirty men instantly shifted, forming a bizarre array upon the deck. It was none other than the "Thirty-Six Heavenly Dipper Array", an array modified by Tran Kien to link their auras together.
"SLAUGHTER!!!"
Thirty voices bellowed in unison. The killing intent and blood vitality of thirty experts were instantly connected, forming a profound, dark red aura that enveloped the entire ship, shattering the freezing Yin energy of the mist.
"Advance!"
They did not defend. They took the initiative to attack. Squads of three or five coordinated with impeccable synergy. Saber light flashed, battle-axes cleaved. They did not strike at the illusory bodies of the Mist Soul Snakes; they struck at the "core" of resentful energy hidden deep within—a technique taught to them by Tran Kien.
Swish! Swish!
One by one, the Mist Soul Snakes shrieked in agony before dissolving into grey smoke. Tran Kien's army, akin to a steel drill bit, slowly, slowly... bored a hole straight through an ocean of massive serpents.
Tran Kien and Old Kinh stood upon the highest command deck, silently observing it all.
"Exalted Lord," Old Kinh spoke, his single eye overflowing with shock and pride. "They... they have truly metamorphosed."
"It is still not enough," Tran Kien shook his head. "These are merely the small fry."
He raised his head, gazing into an indeterminate void within the mist. He could sense it—a far more powerful will was orchestrating all of this.
He said nothing. He simply drew his matte-black saber in silence.
He did not slash. He merely used the tip of the blade to write a single character in the air.
An ancient character "TRAN" (陳), identical to the one upon his banner.
This calligraphy harbored no killing intent. It merely carried the aura of the legacy, of inheritance, luminous and utterly righteous.
It flew into the mist, then vanished.
A long while later, the churning mist abruptly stilled. The swarm of Mist Soul Snakes, previously attacking madly, also froze before slowly, slowly... retreating and dissolving into the fog.
The entire sea returned to tranquility.
A desolate, ancient voice seemed to echo from everywhere at once.
"The one bearing the seed... has finally returned..."
Then, the dense wall of mist, which had existed for three thousand years, parted automatically to either side for the very first time in history, forging a broad path.
At the end of that path, the majestic Flame Mountain revealed itself, as if bowing its head in greeting to welcome its true master home.