The fresh blood on the docks had been washed clean, but the shock left behind by those three severed heads remained etched deep within the minds of everyone on Flood Dragon Island. Awe and grace, reward and punishment—two seemingly contradictory concepts were wielded by the young New King with a mastery that was utterly terrifying.
Ironclad discipline had been established.
The first trial by fire for the Sea Dragon Guard had not merely brought back victory; it had inspired profound reverence and absolute faith. The ferocious, undisciplined pirates of the past, upon looking at the one hundred members of the Sea Dragon Guard standing as silent as stone statues, no longer harbored jealousy in their eyes. Instead, they burned with a yearning to join, to become a part of that elite army.
Tran Kien knew that the seed had been sown, and it had begun to sprout.
In the ensuing days, Flood Dragon Island entered an unprecedented era of development. The entirety of the wealth seized from Wolf Fang Island, along with the "protection tax" collected from the merchant guilds, was overseen by Old Kinh under Tran Kien's direction, and invested back into rebuilding the island.
Dilapidated smithies were torn down and rebuilt larger and more advanced. Tran Kien personally guided the process, utilizing his knowledge of artifact refining and array formations to improve their methods. They forged light armor that was exponentially sturdier, and war sabers that were unimaginably sharper.
An academy was erected. Old Kinh invited down-on-their-luck scholars to teach not only literacy but also the history of Great Viet, heroic sagas, and the indomitable spirit of the Lac Viet people. The students were not merely the rescued orphans, but everyone on the island, including the scar-faced, grizzled pirates.
Tran Kien did not merely want an army with physical might. He wanted an army that possessed a soul, an army that knew its roots.
One month later.
The ranks of the Sea Dragon Guard had expanded to three hundred men, becoming an unshakeable core force. Flood Dragon Island, once a mere pirate's lair, had gradually metamorphosed into a genuine maritime military fortress.
One afternoon, while Tran Kien stood upon the highest crag, quietly cultivating and sensing the ever-deepening fusion between his Saber Intent and the vast sea, Old Kinh approached.
"Exalted Lord," the old man spoke, his voice brimming with reverence. "Everything on the island has fallen into its proper orbit. The winds and waves have temporarily calmed. Perhaps... it is time we resume our journey."
He gazed toward the distant south, where the mysterious misty sea lay. The blood oath of his ancestors was something he had never for a moment forgotten.
Tran Kien opened his eyes. They were as profound as the boundless ocean. He knew Old Kinh was right. Flood Dragon Island was merely a waystation, a stepping stone. His true objective, the final legacy of his ancestors, still awaited him ahead.
He had prepared enough. The blade had been sharpened; it had been tested in blood. It was time to draw it from its scabbard.
"Elder is correct," he nodded. "Make the preparations. We shall depart in three days."
"Then... what of Flood Dragon Island?" Old Kinh asked anxiously. "If the Lord departs now, I fear..."
"It is of no concern," Tran Kien replied, a glint of absolute confidence flashing in his eyes. "I shall not go alone."
He turned to Man Nguu, who had been standing guard behind them like an unmoving statue. "Man Nguu."
"This subordinate is present!"
"Select thirty of the most elite members of the Sea Dragon Guard, those who survived the bloodbath at Wolf Fang Island. They shall accompany me."
"As for the remainder," he looked at Old Kinh. "Elder shall temporarily manage them. You, along with the Vice Island Masters, shall safeguard this foundation. Conduct all matters strictly according to the rules."
"There is one more thing," he retrieved a token forged of black iron, its surface bearing only a single, ancient character: "TRAN" (陳). "This is my command medallion. Seeing this medallion is akin to seeing me. Should anyone dare to violate the rules and incite chaos during my absence... Kill them without mercy!"
It was an impeccably thorough arrangement. He had manpower to accompany and support him, loyal subjects to remain and govern, and a token of absolute authority to maintain order.
Three days later.
The largest warship of Flood Dragon Island, its hull painted pitch-black, quietly weighed anchor. No pirate flag hung from its mast; instead, there was a single, pure black banner bearing a silver character: "TRAN."
Upon the deck, over thirty figures clad in black armor stood as silent as stone statues. Leading them was an indigo-robed youth, a matte-black saber strapped to his back.
The entire populace of Flood Dragon Island gathered at the docks, silently seeing them off. There was no anxiety in their eyes, only fanatical zeal and absolute faith. They firmly believed that their New King, setting sail this time, would undoubtedly return with even greater glory.
"EXALTED LORD!!! TEN THOUSAND VICTORIES!!!"
A unified, thunderous roar abruptly erupted, shaking the very surface of the sea.
Tran Kien stood at the bow, not turning his head back. He merely raised his hand and gave a faint wave.
The black warship, resembling a true black flood dragon, cleaved through the waves, shooting toward the distant southern horizon.
The journey to conquer the vast sea and reclaim the final legacy had officially begun.