Reborn as the Last van Ambrose

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Jiaolong emerged from the volcanic passages into the West Sea realm with his corrupted forces behind him. The mist that filled the water should have disoriented him and should have hidden Ao Run’s palace behind layers of illusion and confusion. Instead, the corruption radiating from his form cut through the ethereal waters like a blade through silk.

"Lord Jiaolong," one of his corrupted lieutenants spoke, its voice sounded like a robot. "The mist is seeping from everywhere."

Indeed, the West Sea’s response was immediate and overwhelming. The mist around them thickened dramatically, and suddenly dozens of identical palaces appeared throughout the water. The silver coral gardens multiplied into endless mazes, and the floating pearl lanterns began moving.

"Clever," Jiaolong observed, his enhanced senses cutting through the illusions like they were made of paper. "But not clever enough."

He raised his clawed hand, and corruption flowed from his body in controlled streams. Where the dark energy touched the illusory palaces, they flickered and dissolved, revealing themselves to be nothing more than sophisticated mirages. But the real palace, carved from white jade and mother-of-pearl, remained solid and unchanged.

"There," he pointed. "Begin the assault."

His corrupted dragons spread out in formation, but the West Sea wasn’t finished with its defenses. The water itself began to shift and change, creating currents that pulled in different directions simultaneously. What appeared to be a clear path to the palace became a whirlpool that sent the leading attackers spinning away from their target.

But Jiaolong had adapted to the realm’s tricks. His corruption allowed him to sense the true nature of the water around him, distinguishing between real currents and illusory ones. He cut directly through the maze, but as he moved toward the palace, the mist covered his path leaving his troops behind him. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

The palace’s outer walls rose before them, but even these weren’t what they seemed. As the corrupted dragons struck the jade barriers, some of their attacks passed harmlessly through what appeared to be solid stone, while others connected with real walls.

"Impressive technique," Jiaolong admitted as his claws scraped against jade that turned to mist, then reformed as stone when he tried to pass through it. "But I can feel the way."

He began moving quickly, his enhanced senses mapping the illusions. The defensive barriers shifted between real and false in cycles, timed to the humming of the West Sea’s currents. Once he understood the pattern, he could predict when each section would be vulnerable.

His corruption struck the palace walls in precise, timed bursts. Dark energy flowed into the jade and mother-of-pearl when they were solid, eating away at their structural integrity.

From within the palace, West Sea defenders began to emerge. Dragons that looked like crystallized mist, their movements were so smooth they appeared to be dancing rather than fighting.

They split into multiple copies of themselves as they engaged Jiaolong’s forces. Each corrupted dragon found itself facing what appeared to be five or six opponents. Weapons clashed against weapons, but only some of the impacts carried actual force.

"Focus on the shadows," Jiaolong shouted through the mist to his followers. "The real defender casts a shadow. The illusions do not."

It was sound tactical advice, but implementing it amid battle proved challenging. Ao Run’s forces were masters of their craft, using the natural mist of their realm to create layers of deception that went beyond simple visual tricks.

One of Jiaolong’s lieutenants engaged what he thought was a single defender, only to discover he was fighting against attacks coming from above, below, and both sides simultaneously. The West Sea dragon’s sword seemed to be in multiple places at once.

"The weapons," the corrupted dragon realized too late. "They’re making the weapons multiply, not just themselves."

But Jiaolong’s corruption was adapting to each new attack.

The change was dramatic. Suddenly, the multiple copies of defenders began to flicker and fade as the water could no longer support the complex illusions. The floating pearl lanterns, which had been moving in hypnotic patterns to confuse attackers, were now aligned in a straight line.

"No," one of the West Sea defenders gasped as his carefully maintained illusions collapsed around him.

Jiaolong pressed his advantage, his corrupted forces advancing through defenses that were becoming less effective by the moment. The palace’s jade walls, which had been shifting between real and illusory, were forced into a permanently solid state by the corruption’s influence.

But the West Sea had one more layer of defense. As Jiaolong’s forces reached the palace’s inner courtyard, the very architecture began to shift. Corridors stretched and compressed, rooms rearranged themselves, and staircases led to different destinations than they had moments before.

"A maze that changes itself," Jiaolong observed with something approaching admiration. "Ao Run has been preparing for longer than I anticipated."

The corrupted dragons found themselves separated as the palace’s interior shifted around them. Corridors that had been wide enough for multiple attackers suddenly narrowed to force single-file movement. Rooms that had been empty filled with defenders who seemed to materialize from the walls themselves.

But Jiaolong moved through the changing palace with purpose. His corruption allowed him to sense the underlying structure beneath the illusions, the foundation that remained constant even as the surface details shifted. He carved a direct path toward the palace’s heart, his dark energy burning through walls both real and imagined.

The throne room doors, massive barriers of carved jade inscribed with protective runes, stood before him. They pulsed with defensive magic that should have been able to repel any attack. But the corruption spread throughout Ao Run’s stronghold.

Jiaolong placed his clawed hand against the doors, and the corruption flowed into the protective runes like acid into copper. The ancient magic flickered and died. The door began to crack, and shortly after, crumbled.

Inside, Ao Run waited on his throne of carved pearl, surrounded by the last of his defenders. But as Jiaolong entered, the ancient Dragon King raised his hand, and his remaining forces stepped aside.

"Nephew," Ao Run said, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "We need to talk."