Chapter Twenty-One: The Final Battle of the Three Clans (Part One)

It is said that the Grand Elder of the Dragon Clan, the Murky Dragon, used the pretext of seeking the one destined for the Primordial Merit to seize both the Qilin Seal and the Phoenix Feather, setting off a storm across the prehistoric world. No sooner had peace been restored than chaos erupted once more, as the three clans vied for precious spiritual items and treasures, plunging the land into uncertainty and turmoil.

Everyone knew that war among the three clans was imminent, and each pondered how to survive the impending catastrophe. Some secluded themselves in meditation, chanting esoteric scriptures without venturing beyond their doors; others scoured the land for spiritual treasures to bolster their own strength. In times of great tribulation, nothing is more precious than life itself—thus, the slaughter began.

The Qilin and Phoenix clans, having lost their most prized treasures, found their fortunes waning. Worse yet, with the loss of their tribal artifacts, their plight deepened. The Qilin Ancestor and the Phoenix Ancestor looked on helplessly as their clans suffered.

“My friend, have you made your decision?” asked the Qilin Ancestor, gazing at the Phoenix Ancestor.

“There is nothing left to say after what he has done to us,” replied the Phoenix Ancestor, rising to his feet. With a mystical gesture, he vanished from the foothills of Buzhou Mountain.

“If we do not stop the Ancestral Dragon, there will be no rival left in all the land. Though many reclusive sages remain hidden, no individual, however mighty, can stand against the strength of an entire race. Let our clan try to save this world,” mused the Qilin Ancestor, perhaps the wisest among the three clans.

Yet before absolute power, all schemes are rendered useless; cunning is of no avail in the face of overwhelming force. The Qilin Ancestor had never sought domination over the world, but seeing his responsibilities and his people, he finally made his choice.

With a stomp of his foot, the Qilin Ancestor sent a thunderous sound reverberating through Buzhou Mountain—a secret method to summon the clan’s strongest. By merging his own magical power with primordial murk, he spread a resonant wave across the land; any of his kin would sense this summons.

The Qilin warriors soon arrived at the Qilin Cave atop Buzhou Mountain, chatting and laughing along the way. Upon seeing their leader, they knelt in unison. “Greetings, Clan Chief.”

“The Dragon Clan is making its move. Prepare yourselves for the coming battle!” Without another word, the Qilin Ancestor vanished into the depths of the cave to cultivate. Inside, the assembled warriors exchanged glances and erupted into cheers.

Ever since the Jade Qilin lost the Qilin Seal, the clan had shunned the Dragons, fearing discovery and slaughter. As a result, the Qilin’s territory had shrunk—a blow neither minor nor catastrophic, but significant. A race’s territory defines its space for survival; with less room comes harsher conditions, and so the Qilin’s prospects had grown bleak.

The Phoenix Clan fared no better. Within both tribes, the seeds of hatred had taken deep root.

Meanwhile, in a secluded chamber of the Crystal Palace beneath the Eastern Sea, the Dragon Clan’s chief and Grand Elder—Ancestral Dragon and Murky Dragon—were using the Ancestral Dragon’s life pearl to absorb the merit energy from the Qilin Seal and Phoenix Feather. Normally, such merit could not be so easily absorbed, but the Dragon Pearl’s vast reserves drew in the unclaimed merit, as neither treasure had a rightful master to resist assimilation.

Gradually, the Ancestral Dragon realized that the merit energies fused into one, while the essence within the Qilin Seal and Phoenix Feather was entirely consumed. The two then combined their strength to merge the three treasures into a single, new Dragon Pearl. After all, the Qilin Seal and Phoenix Feather were powerful, tangible artifacts—not to be wasted.

Gazing at the Dragon Pearl resting in his palm, the Ancestral Dragon smiled with deep satisfaction. Three thousand years of effort had not been in vain. The Dragon Pearl edged ever closer to becoming a supreme treasure. Within it, a world began to form, which he named the “Dragon Realm.”

Seeing his brother’s pleased smile, Murky Dragon shared in the joy; he would do anything for the Dragon Clan. The two left the cultivation chamber and entered the grand hall, where Murky Dragon produced a ceremonial bell and gently rang it.

The bell’s peal echoed throughout the four corners of the sea, summoning the strongest of the aquatic clans to the Crystal Palace.

Seated upon the high throne, the Ancestral Dragon listened as Murky Dragon, standing at his side, proclaimed, “The time is ripe. Our chance to unite the world has come.” His words resounded through the hall, stirring a fervent, hushed debate among the assembled dragons.

“Does anyone object?” The Ancestral Dragon glared at the crowd and barked his question.

“We obey the clan chief’s command,” the warriors replied, bowing in deference.

“In a thousand years, our clan shall contest the Mandate of Heaven, unite the land, and establish an immortal legacy!” The Ancestral Dragon’s voice thundered through the chamber, an aura of dominance emanating from his very being.

Sensing this power, the Dragon warriors rejoiced—such was their leader. News of the impending war among the three clans spread swiftly, and across the world, beings scrambled to seize spiritual treasures and artifacts, hoping to survive the coming calamity. Yet they failed to realize that the moment greed, anger, or delusion took root in the heart, they were already ensnared by the tribulation—even the most devout recitation of holy texts could offer no escape.

Upon hearing of the looming conflict, Ancestor Hongjun sighed—another disaster was about to befall the living.

Hongjun knew well that, even if he tried to intervene, he could only postpone the inevitable and risk allowing opportunists to exploit the chaos. Moreover, the three clans were steeped in sin, having long plundered the world’s spiritual energy and treasures without giving anything in return. Divine retribution was inevitable. For the Dao to advance, the stalemate among the three clans had to be broken—only through destruction could creation proceed, fulfilling the Dao’s perfection.

Meanwhile, Taishang Laojun and Yuanshi Tianzun, under Hongjun’s guidance, had in these four thousand years refined their cultivation, successfully attaining the rank of Golden Immortal.

Upon Spirit Mountain in the West, Demon Ancestor Rahu sat quietly in his chamber, emerging from deep meditation. “The Ancestral Dragon has finally begun to act; even I find it hard to wait any longer. Let me be the one to rule the world.”

Since the Willow Sage had claimed a piece of Rahu’s flesh, Rahu had remained secluded. In these three thousand years, not only had his power reached the pinnacle of Golden Immortal, but his fate had also become entwined with that of the Western lands. No matter how grievous his injuries, Rahu could not truly die—at worst, he would slumber for a time, only to awaken once more. Many hermits cultivated in the West, and Rahu was but one among them.

Yet Rahu was also the leader of all the rogue cultivators there, giving him the foundation to vie for supremacy. For three millennia, Demon Ancestor Rahu had not revealed himself, and most had all but forgotten him—until, suddenly, rebellious hermits stormed Spirit Mountain, hoping to depose him and claim leadership for themselves.

Spirit Mountain, with its abundant spiritual energy and lofty height, was the crown of the West; to control it was to command the land’s destiny. Emerging from his chamber, Rahu uttered not a word to his challengers; instead, he acted swiftly and mercilessly, deploying the Immortal-Slaying Formation to annihilate every rebel. The few survivors, who had not joined the uprising, swallowed in terror at the carnage.

Tongtian, gazing at the copper coins in his hand, mused, “My time is running short. I must double my efforts in cultivation—otherwise, the spiritual treasures will slip away.” The war among the three clans was about to erupt.