Wang Lin, without a glance, lifted the clay wine jug from beside him and took a great draught.

The liquor burned its way down his throat, instantly transforming into a searing fire that blazed from gullet to gut. It was as if he had swallowed a dragon of flame. Tiny beads of sweat sprang forth on his brow, only to vanish in a wisp of white steam almost as quickly as they appeared.

The inferno did not subside, but rather intensified, engulfing him entirely. His body, from the marrow of his bones to the very surface of his skin, felt as though it were ablaze. A fiery power swelled within, threatening to erupt and consume him from the inside out.

The heat coursed through his veins, and suddenly, the weariness that had plagued him seemed to recede, replaced by a spark of vitality that surged into motion. Moments later, a glimmer of his lost power returned.

Yet, even as that spark ignited, the fiery torment redoubled. Flames danced within Wang Lin, licking at his very hair. Waves of heat radiated from every pore, a spectacle of incredible intensity.

The conflagration swelled until the Vermillion Bird sigil on Wang Lin’s left eye flared to life. A torrent of cerulean fire erupted from the eye, engulfing his body and fusing with the inferno within.

A screech, like that of a Vermillion Bird, tore through the air as a cerulean bird of fire emerged from his eye, circling him with an air of pure contentment.

An hour passed before the celestial bird returned to Wang Lin’s eye and vanished. The searing heat gradually subsided, and he drew a deep breath, declaring, “Fine brew indeed!”

The old fisherman turned to him, a smile of kindly amusement gracing his weathered face. He nodded and turned back to the placid surface of the lake.

“…You certainly don’t hold back, do you? A whole gulp at once.”

“What manner of drink is this?” Wang Lin licked his lips. That single draught had stirred the essence of fire within him, thickening it, making his next Vermillion Bird awakening an even more tantalizing possibility. And the fiery power within the brew!

“That is no wine, young one. It is blood,” the old man replied, his tone gentle.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. At that very instant, the serene lake roiled with violent ripples. A muffled roar echoed from the depths, growing ever louder.

The clear waters clouded in an instant, and even divine senses could not penetrate its murk.

The old man chuckled, his right hand yanking back on the fishing rod. In the moonlight, a silver line shimmered with blinding light, twisting and taut as it pulled upwards.

The roar from the depths intensified, drawing closer and closer. Then, with a thunderous crash, a head the size of a manor house burst from the surface.

It was a dragon! In the center of its skull was a bulge, dark and mottled, almost the color of dried blood.

This old man was not fishing; he was dragon-fishing.

The dragon’s head was crimson, its jaws agape and lined with wicked teeth. The fishing line was lodged within. In a heartbeat, a serpentine body, thousands of feet long, emerged from the lake, eclipsing the moon itself.

Wang Lin’s face paled. Before the colossal dragon, he was as an ant. The scarlet dragon roared, its voice shaking the very air. It thrashed, attempting to break free of the line.

Yet, the line, forged of some unknown material, held firm. No matter how the dragon writhed, it could not break free. The old man rose to his feet with a hearty laugh, yanking back on the rod, further enraging the beast.

All of this occurred in the blink of an eye, too fast for the mind to fully grasp.

As if sensing its struggle was futile, the crimson dragon lowered its head. With a savage roar, it lunged towards the old man, seeking to swallow him whole. Even before its massive form drew near, a wave of fetid air washed over him.

Within that foul wind, as the dragon’s head closed in, a crushing pressure erupted from the beast, a pressure so intense it shook the heavens.

Wang Lin gasped, his face blanching as terror gripped him. The dragon was a colossal millstone, threatening to grind all life to dust. He staggered backward.

“Third Step!” he realized, the pressure no less formidable than that of the immortal Suidaozi. “A Third Step-level beast!” Wang Lin shuddered. He could scarcely believe what he was witnessing.

The old man, far from merely fishing, was battling a Third Step dragon!

With another hearty laugh, the old man leaped into the air. His right hand held the fishing rod, while his left rose to meet the approaching dragon. Wang Lin saw, in that instant, that a shimmering flame spread across the old man’s hand.

The flame seemed illusory, more akin to a fiery mist. As the old man swung his hand, there was no grand spell, no incantation, only a deafening roar. The dragon shrieked in agony as an invisible force slammed it backward, its head snapping back violently.

In that instant, a mist of fire erupted from the dragon’s body, spreading with a crackling roar. The dragon’s screams grew even more piercing as it attempted to retreat into the lake.

The old man snapped the fishing rod. The line held firm, and the dragon, on the verge of escape, was yanked back out of the water, thrashing and screaming.

“Insolent whelp! You dare flee before me, you pathetic Flame Dragon!” the old man bellowed, planting his feet upon the dragon’s writhing head. He raised his left hand once more, preparing to strike.

As his hand rose, Wang Lin’s mind reeled, his eyes widening in astonishment. Behind the old man, an apparition materialized.
A behemoth of crimson flame, dwarfing even Wang Lin’s Suzaku, blotted out the heavens. An aura of immeasurable age emanated from the colossal bird, its form wreathed in illusory fire.

*Phantom Fire!*

The moment it manifested, the great Suzaku threw back its head and unleashed a deafening cry, a Suzaku’s call that shattered the very air.

Wang Lin stared in disbelief. The size of this avian titan, the raw power of the flames within, the sheer might it exuded, surpassed even the ancient Suzaku Saint Emperor of legend. The difference was akin to that between a fledgling and an ancestor.

The elder’s left hand plunged down. As it did, the massive Suzaku phantom behind him surged forward, converging upon the descending limb. In a heartbeat, it became one with his arm. As his hand plunged towards the dragon’s head, it vanished entirely. In its place was the razor-sharp beak of the Suzaku itself!

With the speed of thought, the fiery beak slammed into the bulge on the dragon’s skull, piercing through with a resounding boom. A torrent of burning ichor erupted forth.

“What are you gaping at? Fetch a skin to catch the ichor! Do you think this old frame is built to withstand such strain?” The elder roared, his voice like thunder in Wang Lin’s ears.

Without hesitation, Wang Lin snatched up a wineskin, soared forward, and caught the geyser of blood within. But the skin was finite. When it was full, precious drops of the dragon’s essence remained, threatening to spill. Wang Lin seized a vial, intending to capture the remainder.

But the moment the blood touched the glass, the vial dissolved into nothingness, unable to contain the dragon’s power!

In a flash, Wang Lin knew he could not let the remaining ichor fall to the lake below. With a desperate gamble, he surged forward and, without a second thought, opened his mouth and drank.

With a mighty gulp, he consumed the remaining blood, an amount equal to three large mouthfuls he had previously taken.

A wide grin spread across the elder’s face as he watched Wang Lin’s actions. With a flick of his wrist, he reeled in the fishing line and, with a final stomp upon the dragon’s head, launched himself away.

The dragon, enraged, dared not roar. It plunged into the depths of the lake, vanishing from sight.

“Good! Well done, scion of the Suzaku! Waste is a dishonor!” The elder chuckled, settling down beside Wang Lin.

Wracked with inner fire, his face flushed crimson, Wang Lin paid the elder no heed. He sat, cross-legged, and channeled his power, desperately seeking to master the raging energy within.

The elder watched him, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“I thought I’d never see another of my kin. But here you are, likely the sixth generation Suzaku… very good, very good indeed!” The elder’s joy grew with each passing moment. He knelt and pinched Wang Lin’s cheeks, then patted him all over, his hands searching every part of Wang Lin’s body.

“Yes, undoubtedly Suzaku blood, not some imposter concocted by our foes. But the boy’s body… it is of a Ancient God… ha! Most intriguing!” Excitement flickered in the elder’s eyes.

“The Fourth Generation Suzaku was too easily distracted by pleasures to master my techniques. This Sixth Generation seems… reserved. Perhaps he can…” The elder, still patting Wang Lin’s body, suddenly froze.

He cleared his throat and sat back.

“The youth of today… alas… It is only I who possessed the strength of will. My primordial essence remains untouched.”