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{3rd Pov}
The end of the Bo City disaster marked a massive turning point for the Star Clan.
Before the catastrophe, many powerful factions and traditional clans had labeled the Star Clan as a foreign force attempting to interfere in the country's internal growth.
They were portrayed as outsiders who were expanding too aggressively, monopolizing resources, and gaining influence far too quickly.
Rumors had circulated endlessly, painting them as opportunists waiting for a chance to dominate.
But after the disaster, that narrative collapsed.
When Bo City fell into despair under the Crimson Alert, it was not the loud critics nor the established aristocratic families who stood at the forefront.
It was the Star Clan and Star Industries who opened their gates, formed barricades, deployed Advanced and Intermediate mages, and turned their branches into sanctuaries.
Thousands of civilians had survived solely because of those actions.
More importantly, the fact that the Star Clan was primarily composed of Chinese mages significantly shifted public perception.
While their leadership had foreign roots, the majority of their personnel, guards, and rescued elites were natives.
They had bled for Bo City.
They had fought for its civilians.
They had lost people of their own.
That truth carried more weight than any propaganda.
Of course, not everyone was willing to accept this shift quietly.
Several established clans, threatened by the sudden surge in Star Clan's reputation, attempted to manipulate the narrative through their controlled news outlets.
They tried to suggest that the disaster response had been premeditated for image-building, or that Star Clan had exaggerated its contributions.
However, Star Clan was never defenseless in the realm of influence.
They possessed their own powerful media networks and news channels.
Counter-statements were issued swiftly.
Footage of rescues, battle recordings, and eyewitness testimonies were broadcast publicly.
Survivors themselves came forward to speak.
The counterattack was clean and decisive.
Instead of losing ground, the Star Clan's reputation solidified further.
After the Great Depletion, the Star Clan's expansion had slowed due to economic strain, human resource scarcity, and political pressure.
But the Bo City disaster reignited their growth dramatically.
Public trust surged.
Recruitment applications flooded in.
Civilian mages, especially those who had lost faith in traditional clans, chose to join Star Clan in large numbers.
The disaster, tragic as it was, became a catalyst.
And the Star Clan emerged stronger than ever.
To be honest, the Chinese government did not have any fundamental issues with Star Industries as a commercial entity.
It operated as a corporation—trading materials, providing cultivation resources, offering employment, and stimulating economic growth.
From an economic standpoint, it was beneficial.
It created jobs, stabilized supply chains during inflation, and provided reasonably priced cultivation materials when official channels were failing.
The real concern was never Star Industries.
The real concern was its sister organization—Star Clan.
Unlike the corporate branch, Star Clan functioned as a structured power organization.
Anyone who wished to become an official core member had to sign a Psychic Contract.
That contract ensured loyalty, obedience, and confidentiality toward the Clan and its Emperor.
From a national security perspective, that was alarming.
A mage's loyalty was not something the state took lightly, especially in a world where magic determined military power.
If talented Chinese mages pledged primary loyalty to a foreign-rooted power through binding Psychic Contracts, it could easily be interpreted as a long-term strategic threat.
That was why the government had been quietly running propaganda campaigns against Star Clan for years.
The messaging was subtle at times and aggressive at others, painting the Clan as a foreign entity consolidating influence within China.
The intention was clear—limit its political legitimacy and prevent it from gaining uncontested authority.
On top of that, historical resentment had not faded.
The Great Depletion had left scars that still shaped national sentiment.
Officially, the disaster had been blamed on Qin Yu'er, and while she carried the public fault, the deeper frustration within the country was far more complex.
During that era, China had been pressured heavily by Western nations—economically, politically, and resource-wise.
Strategic materials were siphoned away under international agreements and political leverage.
The imbalance forced China into defensive mobilization.
The consequences were catastrophic.
During the period now referred to as "The Great Depletion," hundreds of thousands of teenage mages—students barely past their awakening stages—were enlisted to defend the nation.
Many of them never returned.
Entire school generations were wiped out on battlefields and frontier zones.
Families lost sons and daughters in numbers too devastating to count.
It was not just a military crisis.
It was a generational trauma.
That was why the era was remembered as the Dark Era of China.
Not merely because of external pressure or resource loss, but because a whole wave of young talent had been sacrificed in the name of national survival.
In such a climate, any powerful foreign-rooted organization rising rapidly within the country was bound to face scrutiny and hostility.
Even if Star Clan saved cities.
Even if its members were mostly Chinese.
Trust, once fractured by history, was never restored easily.
After the Bo City disaster, the authorities implemented emergency educational measures for all surviving students.
Every student from Bo City was granted a free academic year to recuperate, meaning they could postpone their university admissions by one full year without penalty.
On top of that, bonus evaluation marks were added to their records.
This ensured they would not be disadvantaged in the national entrance process and, in fact, would have improved chances of entering higher-ranking Magic Universities.
The decision was both political and practical.
The government needed to show that it cared about the next generation, especially after the trauma they had endured.
Many of those students had witnessed death firsthand.
Some had lost family members.
Forcing them into immediate competitive examinations would have been both cruel and destabilizing.
Mo Fan chose to take advantage of that one-year delay.
He decided to wait alongside Ye Xinxia and Zhang Xiaohou, allowing themselves time to grow stronger before stepping into the next stage of their lives.
Mu Bai, however, made a different decision.
Along with several of his friends, he chose to leave Bo City entirely and relocate to the Ancient Capital.
Bo City itself was undergoing rapid reconstruction.
Thanks to the presence of Star Clan and their defensive intervention during the disaster, the city had not been completely annihilated.
Infrastructure damage was severe but not irrecoverable.
With funding pouring in from both the government and private factions—including Star Industries—the city was projected to be rebuilt within a year, this time with stronger defensive arrays, better evacuation systems, and upgraded magical infrastructure.
More than half of the population had survived, which significantly accelerated the recovery process.
Furthermore, the majority of dangerous monster nests surrounding the region had already been wiped out during the aftermath of the disaster.
The surrounding environment was, ironically, safer than it had been in years.
Because of this, Bo City was expected to become a highly livable urban area once reconstruction was completed.
Property value projections began rising.
Developers anticipated an influx of new residents seeking affordable land in a now-secured region.
Even though the city lacked rare cultivation resources nearby, its safety rating and modern reconstruction plans made it increasingly attractive.
However, not everyone could remain.
The Mu Family's reputation had been severely damaged.
The revelation that Yu Ang—Mu Ningxue's adopted brother—had been a member of the Black Vatican triggered intense public outrage.
For the citizens of Bo City, this was not just betrayal; it was unforgivable.
The disaster had already claimed countless lives.
Learning that a member of one of the city's most prominent families had been involved with the organization responsible for the tragedy only intensified public anger.
As a result, hostility toward the Mu Family reached an all-time high.
Businesses associated with them suffered boycotts.
Public trust collapsed.
Even neutral factions began distancing themselves to avoid collateral damage to their own reputations.
Under such circumstances, remaining in Bo City would have been self-destructive.
The Mu Family had no choice but to liquidate their remaining assets, sell off properties, and relocate.
Staying would have only invited further social and political pressure, possibly even violent retaliation.
And so, as Bo City prepared for rebirth, some families rose with it—
While others were forced to leave behind everything they once controlled.
Meanwhile, during that one-year period, Astreo decided to take things at a more relaxed pace.
The Bo City disaster had ended, his major objectives had been achieved, and his power had reached a stable plateau for the time being.
There was no urgent war to fight, no immediate threat looming over his head.
So instead of obsessively pushing forward at full speed, he chose to enjoy life while continuing his cultivation steadily.
Of course, that did not mean he was slacking.
Cultivation remained part of his daily routine, but it was no longer the sole focus of his existence.
He finally had the time to consider other matters—particularly the dynamics between him and his female subordinates.
Many of them had grown closer to him over the years.
Their loyalty was unquestionable, and their feelings were hardly subtle.
Still, Astreo had no intention of rushing into anything recklessly.
Jumping straight into physical relationships without emotional buildup felt crude and shallow to him.
It lacked satisfaction.
If anything, he preferred gradual development—subtle tension, layered trust, and meaningful progression.
That said, he would not deny that being spoiled like a cliché harem protagonist had its own charm.
The attention, the admiration, the devotion—it was undeniably entertaining.
He was just beginning to map out how he would approach these relationships moving forward when Xyra appeared before him without warning.
Her presence alone shifted the atmosphere slightly.
"The Dragon Clans Gathering?" Astreo repeated, his expression showing genuine confusion as he looked at her.
Xyra nodded calmly. "As I informed you earlier, My Lord, qualification is based on strength and standing. Now that I have reached the level of a Mid-Emperor, and both my daughter and son-in-law have advanced to Lesser Emperor status, our clan officially qualifies for the inner circle."
"I see… then I assume there will be quite a number of Emperors gathered there?" Astreo asked calmly, recalling what Xyra had previously explained to him about the structure of the Dragon Valley.
Xyra gave a slight nod.
The Dragon Valley was not a single unified territory.
It was divided into multiple hierarchical circles layered upon one another.
Astreo and Xyra's clan had been residing in what was known as the third layer, commonly referred to as the outer layer.
That region was vast but comparatively resource-poor.
Competition there was intense, yet the quality of spiritual resources, bloodline inheritances, and territory advantages was far inferior to the higher layers.
However, everything changed when power thresholds were crossed.
Now that Xyra had advanced to Mid-Emperor, and her daughter along with her son-in-law had both stepped into the Lesser Emperor realm, their clan officially met the minimum qualifications to ascend in hierarchy.
This meant they could enter the inner circles of the Dragon Community and claim territory in the Inner Dragon Valley.
Of course, even the Inner Dragon Valley was not the holiest or most sacred region within the entire dimension.
It was powerful, yes—but it was not the ultimate core.
That distinction belonged to the Core Dragon Valley.
To even set foot there, one needed to be at the level of a Plane Dominating Being.
Astreo understood very clearly that the Summoning Plane was not a single monolithic world.
It was more accurately described as a cluster of interconnected planes, layered and separated by dimensional laws.
Each sub-plane had its own native species, rulers, ecosystems, and governing principles.
Humans who possessed the Summoning Element could move between these planes with relative ease.
Their element allowed them to breach dimensional boundaries and traverse these realms as though stepping into different habitats.
For them, crossing planes was a matter of magical compatibility.
But for the native species of those planes, things were different.
They were bound by the laws of their own dimension.
Leaving their native plane was not simple. It required extraordinary strength, specific conditions, or external intervention.
Even Emperor-level beings often could not freely cross into other primary planes without restrictions.
From what Astreo remembered from the Versatile Mage narrative, even Mo Fan had once sensed that within the Summoning Plane alone, there existed beings far beyond the Plane Dominating Realm.
The hierarchy extended much higher than most people on the Main Plane could comprehend.
That realization meant one clear thing—the danger level within the Summoning Plane was far greater than that of the Dark Plane.
The Dark Plane was terrifying, yes, but its hierarchy was structured and somewhat predictable.
The Summoning Plane, on the other hand, was layered with unknown civilizations, ancient bloodlines, and beings whose power scales exceeded common understanding.
It was not just a battlefield of monsters—it was a realm of sovereign species and apex predators ruling entire planes.
Astreo understood the risk clearly.
Going to an unknown gathering, especially now that his species had partially changed due to his Astral evolution, was not a casual decision.
He was no longer just a human mage traveling into a foreign dimension.
His presence would be evaluated differently.
His aura would be judged differently.
And gatherings among dragon clans were never simple social events.
They were demonstrations of strength, territory claims, alliances, rivalries, and sometimes silent threats.
It was dangerous.
But as the saying went—the world belongs to the bold.
He had two choices.
Remain here, secure and steadily advancing within familiar territory.
Or step into the wider structure of reality and witness firsthand what true apex powers meant in this universe.
Astreo did not hesitate long.
He chose to go.
After making the decision, he sent a direct psychic transmission to each of his Monarchs, informing them that he would be on a personal matter for an unspecified period of time.
The instructions were clear—maintain stability, continue expansion policies cautiously, and avoid unnecessary conflicts unless strategically beneficial.
Once that was done, he shifted into the System Plane.
Inside that controlled dimensional space, he took no shortcuts.
He layered multiple dimensional barriers around his physical body—overlapping protective planes generated by the System itself.
These layers ensured that even if someone attempted to trace his consciousness or breach his defenses while his mind was absent, they would face compounded dimensional resistance.
After securing his body thoroughly, he equipped himself fully.
The complete set of Chaos Armour materialized around him, sealing his physical defenses.
He then activated additional magical equipment—most notably a Divine-level Soul Protection Amulet, designed specifically to guard against mental invasion, soul disruption, and dimensional corruption.
Only after every safeguard was in place did he proceed.
Using the Summoning Element, he projected his consciousness forward.
His body remained within the layered safety of the System Plane.
But his mind—
Entered the Summoning Plane alone.
As soon as Astreo entered the Summoning Plane, his consciousness stabilized within familiar surroundings.
He found himself once again in the Dragon Valley, the vast mountainous expanse layered with ancient aura and oppressive dragon might.
The air itself carried a dense, primal energy unique to dragon territory.
It felt heavier than the Main Plane, more rigid, as though even space obeyed different laws here.
Waiting for him were Xyra, her daughter Nemonia, and several senior clan elders who would accompany them to the upcoming Dragon Clan Gathering.
The moment his presence fully materialized, one of the elders stepped forward and announced in a loud, reverent voice:
"Lord Astreo has arrived!"
Immediately, every dragon present lowered their heads in a deep bow.
The gesture was synchronized and disciplined.
Even though these were proud dragon beings—creatures who rarely bent their necks before anyone—they showed him formal respect without hesitation.
Astreo did not particularly enjoy extended displays of kneeling or bowing.
Watching dozens of powerful dragons remain lowered for long stretches of time was inefficient and unnecessary.
However, he did not stop them either.
Respect was important.
Not for vanity—but for structure.
It reinforced hierarchy.
It reminded them, subconsciously and clearly, who stood at the apex of their power chain.
He gave a small nod, signaling them to rise.
Xyra stepped forward and gently hooked her arm with his, her expression calm yet composed with anticipation.
"Husband," she said steadily, "our clan's arrangements are complete. We are prepared to depart for the gathering."
Astreo glanced at her briefly, then at the surrounding elders.
Meanwhile, Nemonia turned toward her own husband, who stood nearby.
He gave her a firm nod in reassurance.
His role would be different this time.
He would remain behind.
Several clan elders would also stay in the outer layer of Dragon Valley to maintain stability and ensure the safety of the younglings.
The gathering was not a ceremonial festival—it was a strategic assembly of dragon clans.
Bringing inexperienced or young dragons would be reckless and unnecessary.
Only a select few representatives were permitted to attend.
The delegation was small but composed of high-level members—those strong enough to represent their standing without embarrassment.
Astreo surveyed them once more, his expression calm and Nemonia stared him much more intently than normal.
In truth, Nemonia still carried a trace of dissatisfaction in her heart.
When Astreo had chosen to contract Xyra, her mother, instead of selecting her daughter, Nemonia had accepted the decision outwardly.
She respected her mother deeply.
She understood strength.
She understood hierarchy.
Xyra had been the most suitable candidate at the time.
But understanding something logically did not erase personal emotions.
As a daughter, she admired her mother.
As a dragon, she respected her authority.
Yet as a mother herself, her instincts leaned differently.
When weighing her own child against anyone else—even her own parent—her preference was naturally selfish.
She would always want the best opportunity for her daughter.
After witnessing Xyra's meteoric rise under Astreo's contract—ascending to Mid-Emperor level and entering the inner circle of Dragon Valley—Nemonia could not help but think.
If that opportunity had gone to her daughter instead…
Would her child now stand at similar heights?
Would her bloodline have risen further?
The thought lingered.
It was not resentment toward Xyra.
It was ambition mixed with maternal instinct.
More importantly, Nemonia had realized something significant.
Astreo had only contracted one dragon—Xyra.
That meant he still had open contract slots.
The realization alone made her thoughts shift strategically.
If circumstances aligned, if opportunity presented itself, her daughter could potentially become his second contracted beast.
And by extension—
His wife.
From a human perspective, the arrangement would sound absurd.
If that were to happen, Astreo would be connected to three generations of the same bloodline—mother, daughter, and granddaughter.
The familial titles would overlap in ways that humans would consider deeply inappropriate.
He would technically become both father-in-law and son-in-law within the same lineage.
But dragons did not view the world through human morality.
They were ancient beings governed by strength, bloodline advancement, and survival of dominance.
Political unions and power consolidation mattered more than symbolic family boundaries.
To dragons, power legitimized structure.
And if such an arrangement strengthened the clan's standing and secured their bloodline's dominance—
Why would they reject it?
Nemonia remained silent outwardly, her expression neutral as she stood beside her mother.
But internally, calculations had already begun.
Just as Nemonia was lost in her thoughts, the atmosphere around them shifted.
Without warning, Xyra stepped forward and released her power.
In an instant, her humanoid form dissolved into pure draconic majesty.
Her true dragon body manifested fully, expanding rapidly until it towered over everything in sight.
Her height alone stretched several kilometers into the sky, her colossal frame dominating the horizon.
When her wings unfolded, they spanned dozens of kilometers, casting a shadow over vast sections of the Dragon Valley below.
The pressure of her presence alone caused the ground to tremble.
Astreo remained completely calm throughout the transformation.
Without hesitation, he ascended and took his position atop her head, seated comfortably between the massive ridges of her armored scales.
Even in her true form, Xyra remained steady and composed beneath him.
The surrounding clan elders quickly followed suit.
One after another, they shed their humanoid disguises and revealed their own dragon forms.
They were ancient, powerful beings—some older than Xyra, some close to her age.
Yet when they stood beside her in full manifestation, the disparity was undeniable.
They looked insignificant.
Compared to Xyra's Mid-Emperor draconic body, the elders resembled mere insects in scale. Even their aura felt lesser in comparison.
Then Nemonia transformed.
Her dragon body rose high into the sky, exceeding a kilometer in height—an immense figure by any standard.
But standing next to Xyra, she appeared almost childlike in size. The difference in scale alone illustrated the gap in strength and advancement between Lesser Emperor and Mid-Emperor.
There was no dramatic pause.
No countdown.
With a single powerful beat of her wings, Xyra launched into the sky.
The entire Dragon Valley shook violently under the force of her takeoff.
Shockwaves rippled outward, scattering clouds and disturbing the layered energy currents that filled the region.
Her aura surged outward freely.
The oppressive might of a Mid-Emperor dragon spread across the outer layer without restraint.
However, the aura did not harm Astreo or the members of her clan.
Instead, it formed a protective field around them, shielding them from external interference and asserting dominance over the surrounding territory.
Their speed shattered the sound barrier within moments of ascent.
Xyra's massive wings beat once, twice—and then the sky itself seemed to split open as she accelerated.
The air exploded outward in violent shockwaves, leaving compressed trails behind them.
They were no longer merely flying; they were moving at speeds comparable to a launched rocket.
Dozens of kilometers vanished beneath them every second.
Xyra further solidified her aura around her clan members, pulling them into her protective domain so they could maintain formation without being torn apart by the sheer velocity.
The wind resistance meant nothing.
The pressure fluctuations meant nothing.
Her Mid-Emperor strength stabilized everything within her range.
They cut across mountains, layered skies, and dimensional currents of the Dragon Valley's outer circle.
Half an hour passed at that extreme velocity.
Gradually, the scenery began to change.
Astreo's gaze sharpened as he started noticing other dragon presences in the distance.
The first he saw were elegant white-silver dragons, their scales shimmering like polished moonlight.
Their bodies were streamlined and refined, radiating nobility and ancient bloodline purity.
They flew gracefully through the skies, each movement controlled and dignified.
Then he spotted something entirely different—serpentine green dragons gliding through the air without wings.
Their elongated bodies twisted and coiled fluidly as if the sky itself were water.
They moved with eerie silence, defying gravity purely through innate control of natural forces.
Further ahead, he saw a colossal crystal dragon.
This one did not fly at all.
Its body was enormous, stretching across kilometers of terrain. Every step it took covered vast distances without stirring dust or disturbing the ground beneath it.
It moved with such controlled weight that even its immense mass caused no visible destruction.
Each dragon species carried distinct traits, elemental affinities, and evolutionary differences.
Astreo kept his expression neutral, composed, and steady.
Outwardly, he looked unfazed.
Internally—
He was screaming.
What the hell was this?
Did he transmigrate into some fantasy blockbuster movie?
Or had he stepped straight into a high-tier cultivation novel setting?
The visual spectacle was absurd.
Ancient dragons of different bloodlines roaming freely across layered skies, each radiating power that could collapse continents in the Main Plane.
This was nothing like the structured human mage society he had grown used to managing.
This was primal, mythological dominance.
And yet—
He forced himself to remain calm.
No matter how ridiculous it felt internally, externally he remained the same composed Emperor sitting atop a Mid-Emperor dragon, entering the inner circles of dragon civilization without hesitation.
Eventually, Astreo's gaze fixed upon a presence so vast that it dwarfed everything else in the surrounding skies.
A colossal dragon stood before them.
Its aura was not violently explosive, nor did it radiate reckless destruction.
Instead, it exuded something far more intimidating—absolute dominance.
The moment they entered its sphere of influence, Xyra's Mid-Emperor aura, along with the combined presence of the accompanying clan elders, was suppressed without effort.
It was not forcibly crushed or countered.
It was simply overridden, as though their power no longer held relevance within this being's domain.
Xyra immediately reduced her speed.
The other dragons in their formation followed without hesitation, instinctively understanding the hierarchy before them.
Astreo studied the entity carefully.
The dragon's scale defied ordinary comprehension.
Its body was long and serpentine, stretching across the sky like a living, golden mountain range.
It did not merely occupy space—it defined it.
Massive coils extended beyond sight, and lightning continuously crackled along the sharp ridges lining its spine.
Arcs of thunder danced across its scales as if electricity itself flowed through its veins.
The golden hue of its body was not decorative or superficial. It looked as though divine metal had been forged into a living organism—solid, indestructible, and ancient beyond measure.
Astreo's eyes narrowed slightly.
The image triggered a memory from his past life.
The resemblance to Void Ghidorah was undeniable—a mythic, serpentine dragon of catastrophic proportions.
While not completely identical in structure, the scale and presence carried a similar apocalyptic aura.
Except this dragon was even larger.
Its head alone spanned several kilometers in length.
Each eye could have swallowed mountains whole.
And beneath its vast coiled body, an enormous artificial platform had been constructed—an expansive meeting ground layered across its coils.
The platform was clearly designed to host the Dragon Clan Gathering.
The structure was not separate from the dragon.
It was built directly upon it.
Which meant the meeting itself was literally being hosted atop the body of a Plane Dominating being.
Xyra's voice echoed inside Astreo's mind through telepathy.
'Darling, that is the Great Thunder Dragon Memo,' she transmitted steadily.
'He is the only Plane Dominating being I have personally encountered. The rest of the Plane Dominating Dragons—and those who surpass them—rarely leave the Core Dragon Valley. He is responsible for overseeing the greater Dragon Valley beyond the core.'
Astreo responded mentally without hesitation.
'I see.' Though he can definitely not see the entire body of the dragon.
Outwardly, his expression remained calm and unreadable.
Inwardly, however, his awareness sharpened.
Even so, Astreo could not help but question the name internally.
Memo?
For a Plane Dominating dragon, the name sounded almost underwhelming.
It lacked grandeur.
It lacked intimidation.
If anything, it sounded like the name of some side character meant to appear briefly for plot convenience before disappearing from relevance.
Of course, he kept that thought entirely to himself.
Names aside, the being's power was unquestionable.
As they approached the colossal platform layered across the dragon's coils, Xyra gradually reduced her speed and descended toward the designated landing area.
The moment they crossed into the stable zone above the platform, she shifted forms.
Her massive dragon body compressed, scales retracting as her form condensed into her familiar demi-human shape.
Without hesitation, she turned toward Astreo.
Before he could even react, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, hugging him tightly against her chest as they completed their descent.
It was unnecessary.
It was completely excessive.
And it was entirely deliberate.
Despite Astreo no longer being a child, Xyra had never let go of this particular habit.
From the moment she had bonded with him, she had adopted a tendency to treat him as something precious and fragile—despite knowing full well he was stronger than her in many aspects.
To her, he was her husband.
And in some instinctive part of her dragon mind, that also meant he was something to be spoiled and protected.
She landed smoothly, still holding him for a moment longer than required before finally releasing him.
Astreo adjusted his posture calmly, showing no visible reaction.
Internally, however, he had only one concise response to the entire situation.
Women.
"X-Xyra? Is that really you?!"
A male voice rang out from the platform nearby.
Astreo turned his head and immediately identified the speaker.
Even without seeing his true dragon form, Astreo could sense the elemental signature clearly—Wind Element, sharp and restless.
From the aura pattern alone, he could already imagine the structure of his dragon body: elongated wings built for speed, streamlined scales designed for aerial combat, and a lighter frame compared to earthbound or thunder dragons.
The speaker stood a short distance away, staring at Xyra in disbelief.
"If this isn't Jack," Xyra replied coldly, her tone dripping with disdain.
Her sneer alone was enough to irritate him visibly.
His expression tightened, pride clearly wounded.
Then, without warning, Xyra leaned over and kissed Astreo on the cheek.
"This," she declared deliberately, "is my contractor—a demi-human from the Earth Plane—and my husband."
The words were not said casually.
They were a statement.
A claim.
Jack's face darkened instantly.
His aura fluctuated violently, and for a split second it looked as if he might actually lunge forward.
His eyes locked onto Astreo with open hostility, as though he wanted to devour him on the spot.
Astreo remained completely still.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not posture.
He simply looked at him and said, "Roll off."
At the same time, he released a controlled surge of his Low-Mid Emperor aura.
The effect was immediate.
The wind dragon's body trembled uncontrollably as the pressure descended upon him.
It was not even full suppression—just a fraction of Astreo's true presence.
But that was more than enough.
His legs gave out.
He dropped to his knees instantly.
"I apologize!" Jack said hurriedly, bowing his head low.
"It was never my intention to offend you, dear Lord!"
The change in attitude was so abrupt that Astreo almost stumbled in disbelief.
One moment the man was ready to attack; the next, he was kneeling like a disciplined subordinate.
Astreo exhaled slowly.
"Fine. Leave," he said flatly.
Jack did not argue.
He bowed once more, lower this time, before retreating quickly.
In his haste, his posture truly resembled a creature fleeing with its tail tucked between its legs.
He disappeared toward his own clan's gathering point without looking back.
Astreo shook his head slightly.
Dragons and their egos.
Troublesome.
Astreo had recognized him immediately.
Jack was the clan leader of one of the rival factions to the Black Fire Dragon Clan—a lineage characterized by serpentine bodies and traditional Eastern dragon features.
Their clan resembled what humans would describe as a "Chinese-style" dragon bloodline—long, scaled, wingless in some cases, and deeply rooted in elemental heritage.
Their rivalry with Xyra's faction was not recent.
It had history.
When they were both much younger, Jack had once pursued Xyra persistently.
At the time, he had been ambitious and arrogant, believing his talent and bloodline were enough to win her attention.
Xyra, however, had never taken him seriously.
She had outright ignored him and, on one memorable occasion, referred to him dismissively as a "python."
For a proud wind dragon, being compared to a lesser serpent had been an unforgivable humiliation.
That grudge had never fully disappeared.
Astreo understood the entire background without needing further explanation.
To him, it was obvious why Jack reacted the way he did upon seeing Xyra news of whom becoming an Emperor had spread through the dragon valley suddenly arrive with a contractor—especially one she openly declared as her husband.
For a brief moment, Astreo imagined how a stereotypical cultivation protagonist would handle the situation.
If a typical Chinese main character were standing in his position, he would probably make it a point to befriend—or even hook up with—Jack's daughter.
Then he would orchestrate a public face-slapping sequence, humiliating the rival clan step by step while loudly restoring "honor" and "dignity."
Astreo almost snorted internally.
Third-rate plotline.
Predictable.
He had no interest in petty drama designed purely for emotional validation.
Power already spoke louder than theatrics.
Xyra hooked her arm around his once more, walking beside him confidently across the massive platform.
Her posture was calm, but there was subtle satisfaction in her expression.
Behind them, the rest of their clan members landed in formation.
One after another, the dragons shifted into their demi-human forms, adjusting their attire and suppressing their true auras to appropriate levels suitable for political interaction.
The platform was filling steadily.
Powerful dragon clans from different circles were assembling, each group maintaining internal order while subtly evaluating others.
Auras overlapped cautiously.
No one acted recklessly under the watchful presence of the Great Thunder Dragon Memo.
Astreo scanned the area once more, observing alliances, rivalries, and power distributions through subtle aura readings.
The atmosphere was tense—but controlled.
The Dragon Clan Gathering was about to begin.
To be continued...