Sky Dragon Valley lay hidden in the depths of a vast mountain range several thousand miles north of Cloudhaven City. Ancient Draconian forebears had buried the place beneath layer upon layer of prohibitions.
Mist rolled through the year, and a silvery spirit fog clung like gauze, sealing the valley from every prying eye. Even if an ordinary cultivator flew past ten million times, they would take the spot for a barren ridge choked with demon beasts, never guessing that the clouds concealed a Draconian refuge whose heritage could rock the entire Fourteenth Firmament.
Jared followed Hadrian and the other Draconian powerhouses, stepping one barrier at a time through those obscure, overlapping wards from antiquity.
Each veil he crossed thickened the surrounding spirit energy, and the ancient pressure in the air grew correspondingly heavier.
When the final, faintly gold curtain of light faded before him, Jared at last set foot inside the sanctuary whispered of only in legends.
The vista that unfurled made him pause for a heartbeat, a brief flash streaking through his eyes despite the composure he normally wore.
Mountains curved like protective arms, lifting a vast, open basin in the center. Overhead hung no ordinary sky, but clouds forged from pure, concentrated draconic energy-golden masses that drifted and churned as though alive.
The force leaking from those clouds rolled as wide as an ocean and as old as prehistory; just staring up set one’s pulse quaking and urged the body to bow.
Below, pavilions and towers stood row on row, stretching in every direction. Their design diverged completely from the ornate palaces of human cultivators; no delicate carvings, yet every beam declared a Draconian grandeur both rugged and expansive.
Most halls were raised from millennium-old timber and ten-millennium spirit jade. Columns bore countless dragon engravings, each stroke carrying a fragment of the Great Way, with a hushed dragon’s roar echoing inside the grain.
Ridges undulated in the distance; spirit springs murmured; exotic flowers and herbs carpeted the ground. A subtle dragon-musk floated through the air, and every inch of soil held the distilled power of a Dragon Vein.
Farther out at the edge of the sky, several dragons nearly 1,000 yards long uncoiled and wheeled between the peaks.
Their scales threw back blinding light, talons tore through cloud banks, and sweeping tails brushed the mountains. Each long, mournful roar shook the very void and proclaimed the supreme authority of an ancient beast.
“Your Majesty, this way please. The Clan Chief has been waiting…” Hadrian bowed low, voice bordering on reverent, and guided the path from one step ahead without daring to overstep.
Jared answered with a slight nod, tamped down the stir within his chest, and followed Hadrian deeper into the valley.
Along the route, every Draconian they passed came to a halt to watch. There were tall young men in human form, graceful women of startling beauty, and whelps not yet fully transformed, tiny dragon tails or horns still showing.
Eyes snapped toward Jared in perfect unison, bright with curiosity, laced with instinctive awe, and stirred by feelings too tangled to name, yearning, simmering fervor, a hush that belonged to the moment dawn first breaks.
Dragon Sovereign Bloodline, for Draconians who had endured exile and silence, those four words weighed like mountains.
They were the highest emblem of the race, the lone credential able to command every trueborn Draconian, the single hope for driving back traitors and restoring lost glory.
For ten thousand years the Draconians of the Fourteenth Firmament had splintered and hidden because their emperor fell, the bloodline severed, the clans leaderless. Now, with the pure Golden Dragon Bloodline resurfacing, it was as though thunder had struck a stagnant pool, setting every steadfast heart aflame once more.
Walking beneath the gathering stares, Jared carried no trace of hauteur; if anything, each step pressed a new weight onto his shoulders. He understood that the blood running through his veins offered power and honor, but also drew unending snares and danger.
After crossing grand halls one after another and traversing several white-jade bridges carved with dragon patterns, Hadrian finally stopped before the valley’s absolute center, a wall whose presence dwarfed everything else.
The structure, forged entirely from deep-green dragon jade, soared nearly 1,000 yards high. Nine lifelike Five-Clawed Golden Dragons sprawled across the roof, ready to leap into the heavens.
Above the doors hung an enormous plaque several yards wide. In ancient Draconian script, two archaic yet soaring characters proclaimed, “Dragon Hall”. Each stroke radiated boundless dragon might; one glance made thoughts shake loose and forced the gaze to drop.
