A month flew by. First, all citizens Tier 3 and above received "Flying Dragon Divine Pills." Those below? Train harder to hit the mark and climb higher.
My wives loved flaunting their third-stage transformations, looking eerily alike—seductive, devilish. Meilina's stood out, her black wings turning gold. God clan wives just sprouted extra wings. The only ones stuck human were Flying Dragon Star's natives and non-Chinese Earth soldiers. Shasha, weaker than her peers, outshone others but envied our transformations, especially my fourth-stage spectacle. Still, our kids inherited it—pure Yanhuang blood runs in their veins.
The pills' empire-wide rollout swelled our ranks with qualified soldiers (Tier 2 mid minimum for enlistment). Downside? Those elders led a rampage, pulverizing countless dead planets in our system, squandering resources. Punishment? A 30,000 electronic coin fine each (1 coin = 100 RMB). Miss a chance to fleece them? Never.
"Yummy, another," I mumbled, sprawled on a lounge chair, Mimi crouching beside me, feeding me fresh fruit. "Feitian, looks like you've got work," Xue'er said, strolling in, kissing me with a grin.
"What work? The campaign's months out. Nothing's urgent," I said, puzzled. Everyone's busting their chops—my hands are free.
"Not Flying Dragon Star—Earth," Xue'er clarified.
"Earth's like us—no big issues there," I countered. She tapped my forehead. "Think you're the savior? It's not always about you."
"Who's after me?" I pulled her into my lap.
"The government. Go check—the screen's still on. They're waiting," she said, remembering.
"Fine. They wouldn't bug me for nothing. Engine trouble?" I mused darkly.
"Old fox, what's up this time?" I spotted the minister—sly as ever.
"Old fox?" He blinked, then grinned, quick on the uptake. "If I'm the old fox, you're the young one."
"You don't show unless it's big. Engine issues? We triple-checked those," I probed.
"Nope, your engines revolutionized our planes and warships—huge leap. I'll cut to it: the premier wants to meet. Got time?" As if I've got a choice. "Can I say no?"
"When're you hitting Shanghai? I'll wait. You're never around—easy gig, president. I'm jealous," he teased.
Can't spill the cosmic beans, so I laughed it off. "If you want, I'll hand you the presidency."
"No thanks—then you'd be even lazier," he shot back.
"Give me twenty minutes—thirty tops. Cool?" I offered. "Sure, your tea's top-notch anyway," he said. So that's why he keeps coming—my premium leaves.
"Xue'er, hold the fort. This feels big. Keep legions on Level 3 alert," I said as she helped me dress.
"Got it. Not my first rodeo," she replied.
At the palace's cosmic port, a colossal warship waited. To save time, we space-jumped from Flying Dragon Star's orbit, emerging behind Earth's moon. I flew solo to Shanghai's group HQ.
The second I walked in, the old fox grabbed my hand. "Let's go—plane's about to leave."
"What's the rush? Tea good?" I jabbed. "Decent, but doesn't last. Your secretary's stingy—only relented when I name-dropped you. Rich folks, so petty," he sighed, shaking his head.
A car waited post-flight. Beijing, China's ancient capital, pulsed with culture and vigor, especially post-Dragon Incident—now the world's spotlight. The car rolled into a classic courtyard. Guards opened the door as we stopped. Zhongnanhai, huh? Heard of it, never seen it. Elegant, with hidden guards—national elites, but in the empire? One of us could solo their legion, no sweat.
"Feitian, meet the premier. No intro needed—he's on TV plenty," the minister joked, pulling me forward.
"You and your antics," the premier chuckled warmly. "Feitian, let's sit." We settled in a rear courtyard at a stone table with four stools.
"Feitian, I know you're busy, so no fluff. We need your tech prowess—your real strength, not just what's public. The nation needs you," the premier said, worry creasing his brow. Heavy burden.
"We're not scared of them—our tech's leagues ahead," I said, confused.
"Thanks to you, we're ahead, but not by much—no overwhelming edge. Without the dragon last time, we might've fumbled," he admitted.
"What's your dream, Premier?" I asked.
"Build a mighty China, where people live happily," he said, eyes gleaming.
"And after? Once we hit the cosmos?" I pressed.
"That's too far—we won't see it. We just seize the day," he sighed. "If Chinese could enter the cosmos, what'd you do?"
"What?" He stood, electrified. "You've got cosmic tech already?" Not what I meant.
"Our ancestors did," I hinted.
"You mean the dragon? He's real, but we're not him. We're dragon descendants, sure, but unproven," he deflated.
"Who says we're not?" I grinned.
"How're you so sure?" the minister asked, skeptical. "Because I'm that dragon—your God Dragon," I declared. The sooner China joins the cosmos, the faster dragonkind spreads.
"What?" They gaped, incredulous. I knew they'd react like this—my file's an open book to them. A human turning dragon? Physically impossible. Too much shrinkage.
I dragonized my hand, claws matching palace murals. They stared like it was sci-fi. "It's really you? But how?" the premier stammered, thrilled yet baffled. Imagine every Chinese like this.
"It's our ancient Golden Giant Dragon heritage," I explained, recounting our journey to Flying Dragon Star, ousting demons, and uniting three realms. They listened, jaws dropped.
"Sky Dragon Empire citizens live 30,000-40,000 years, no issue. Train hard, and immortality's no myth. By god standards, I'm short of Nuwa's creation powers, but punching planets to dust? Routine. I'm basically unkillable."
"Mind-blowing. How do you transform?" the minister asked. Oops, skipped that.
"I said it—we're dragon descendants. Flying Dragon Star has dragons too, smaller, winged, but with shared traits. Using their blood in secret rites awakens our dormant dragon genes." I sipped tea. "Golden Giant Dragons are mightiest, with four-stage transformations, boosting power tenfold." That clicked after my armor shattered on Black Dragon Star, hitting Tier 12—near ten Tier 12s' strength, explaining why my doubled Dragon Armor burst.
"I'm laying it bare because I want China to migrate to the Sky Dragon System, joining the dragon clan. We're dragons, not worms—Earth's too small to waste time bickering. The cosmos is our stage, our worth. Stay here, and we'll be wiped out. Our ancient demon foes could return anytime. Their power? We can't resist. One Palace Guard could solo a legion unharmed. Unity's our path. With Yanhuang descendants back, our might'll be unmatched. Every Chinese, a giant dragon."
They sank into thought. The Chinese nation's path forward? Tough to swallow—it's too wild.
"Come, see my warship," I offered. "On Earth?" they asked.
"Behind the moon." I shielded them with water magic, whisking them to the colossal warship. Its endless bulk shook their hearts. One shot, and Earth's toast. Inside, Yanhuang Palace Guards stood tall.
The tech strained their hearts. "How many ships like this?" the premier asked.
"About 500,000, plus other types," I estimated. "What?" They reeled. Terrifying.
"Our empire's all-in—no age limits. You two? Youngsters there," I teased. They shook their heads, marveling. With this tech, bioengineering, and physiques, weakness isn't an option.
"United, we'd grow as Yanhuang kin—no gaps. Yanhuang are few in the empire but hold high posts. No issues now, but ambition could stir. Migration fixes that. Plus, aliens are nearing the Milky Way. We're blocking them, or they'd be here, desperate for life planets. Migration means soldiers and production," I said. They grew graver, silently vowing: The Chinese must rise—now's critical.
"We trust you, but we'll consult other leaders and the people," the premier said, thorough.
"Naturally. But hurry—we're mobilizing soon. Victory's fine; defeat loses this system."
Back on Earth, they rushed to strategize. A historic day for China. Top leaders convened, hearing the premier and minister's report.
The room buzzed—some thrilled, others wary. "Since you know, share your thoughts," the premier urged.
"Join the dragon clan—reclaim our essence. No more Earthly scheming," a military rep roared, itching for cosmic war.
"We don't know what's out there," another cautioned.
"Racial survival's at stake—personal gain's irrelevant," a voice countered. As leaders bickered, one spoke up: "Let Feitian clarify our concerns face-to-face. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
Barely back at the group's Beijing branch, I was summoned again. They've got doubts—I need to nail this. Entering the State Council's meeting room, I faced China's power elite.
"Your Excellency Feitian, if we merge, what's the system? You're an empire—our people's democracy won't mesh," a leader asked.
"In the cosmic age, strong governance is key. In a war-torn cosmos, empire's essential. Most of us are from Earth, so our empire's unique. The military's mine; government handles civilian life. In war, I hold all power. In peace, elders deliberate," I explained.
"That's tyranny! You could kill at will," another challenged.
"Impossible—laws bind me. Enemies, though? Fair game," I chuckled.
"History shows empires fail. Reform, or we can't join," they insisted.
"You're stuck in material thinking. I'll say it again: empire's mandatory. Post-merger, you're not humans—you're dragons. Dragon nature demands the strong rule, nature's law. Our lives stretch near-eternal, with elders deciding in the clan head's absence—very democratic. The clan head's symbolic, hands-off. Elders' council runs most things." If this flops, I'm moving the group to Flying Dragon Star.
"Feitian, step out. We'll discuss and reply," they said.
"Fine."
After heated afternoon debates, they agreed to join the Sky Dragon Empire in two steps: first, a show of force to herald the dragon clan's return, reassuring Chinese of ancestral ties; then, announce the merger. Set for a month later.
Post-deal, I raced back to prep for mass housing. A month zipped by. Today, a joyous day for the empire, the White, Green, Yellow, and Red Dragon Legions, plus 60,000 colossal warships, filled the cosmos in tight formation.
My arrival needed no grand speech—words couldn't capture our fire. Earth, though, was pandemonium.
"What? Chinese rejoining the dragon clan? God, they're delusional," little Clinton scoffed, smacking his head. Think, man—impossible. His secretary, rushing in, was too rash.
"It's real—look." Satellite footage showed Chinese flooding streets, singing, dancing, and waving dragon banners like New Year.
"Dear viewers, we're live from Tiananmen Square. Behind me, Beijing's masses celebrate. Today's monumental for our nation—China's cosmic leap begins. We've claimed dragon descent, dreamt but unseen. Now, we stand proud as dragonkind, reclaiming our true selves. In four minutes, the dragon clan's chief, Sky Dragon Empire's Majesty Makino Feitian, arrives to lead us to glory. Now, to the airport," the anchor beamed.
"Here at the military airport, crowds swarm to welcome. Everyone's guessing His Majesty's entrance. Look—there!" the reporter shouted, cameras panning skyward.
The four legions jumped, forming a cosmic circle, descending slowly. "A-Lang, you whined about missing last time—go steal the show. Bring thousands of transformers," I ordered.
"Boss, leave it to me. Roar!" A-Lang led 4,000 Tier 5 mid Yanhuang warriors, leaping from warships, morphing mid-air. Inspired by my last display, they went all out. Dragons soared, riding auspicious clouds.
Beijing's crowds heard roars, spotting dragons bursting from clouds. Silence, then thunderous cheers erupted.
"Viewers, behold—our nation's dragons! Stunning!" CCTV's reporter and cameraman swung to my warship.
Post-A-Lang's stunt, clouds seemed to gather. Our warship fleet descended, spaced precisely, dwarfing A-Lang's show. The sheer mass of orderly ships awed all. At a set altitude, they halted. My flagship dropped, revealing its massive scale—tiny from afar, colossal up close. At 100 meters up, the hatch opened. Two thousand Palace Guards marched out, descending air like stairs, clad in Dragon Armor, wielding laser guns, wind magic guiding them. Broadcast globally, their cold masks radiated killing intent.
As they landed, I and my wives, in crystal Dragon Armor, appeared. A-Lang's 4,000 and the 2,000 guards roared, "Long live our emperor, ten thousand years, forever!" A-Lang's team reverted human, landing in yellow Dragon Armor—clearly outranking the silver-clad guards. Crowds roared again.
Japan
"Nomura, our Great Japanese Empire's done. One dragon's unstoppable—now this many? And more unknown. Their warships blanket our skies—that size, that power," a leader lamented. Our fleet covered Earth's landmasses, visible worldwide.
"Ono-kun, we've got hope—expand east. In years, we'll be mighty," Nomura urged.
"Mightier than this?" Ono's question stumped him.
United States
"They're taunting us! The great American nation won't stand for it. Let our missiles teach them—warships don't make invincibility. Only America's the true empire," a senator ranted, spit flying.
Little Clinton, catching CCTV's English feed, called an emergency meeting. "Idiots. If they were that easy, would they hover like this?" he thought, asking, "You all agree?" Half raised hands.
Sighing, he approved nuclear-equivalent missile strikes on our warships over U.S. soil, praying for no retaliation. He guessed right—I'd ordered our ships to let attacks come, proving their mightiest weapons useless.
Thousands of U.S. missiles screamed toward our fleet. Crystal shields flared, deflecting all. Explosions lit the sky, harmless.
"See? Our missiles did nothing," Clinton mourned, expecting this but stunned by zero hits.
"We—" the missile-pushing senator began. Clinton cut him off. "You fool! Look with your eyes, think with your brain—or ask around. We need peace, not war. Honor the great Chinese nation to grow, or in a century, we'll find the galaxy empty when we reach it."
The senator and supporters clammed up, ignored. "Cowards," he muttered, slumping.
"Now, let's discuss coexisting with the Chinese, sharing cosmic resources—our top priority," Clinton urged.
Other nations, seeing U.S. missiles fail, eyed cooperation with the Sky Dragon Empire. Anti-China forces vanished overnight.
Globally, Chinese diaspora hit the streets, high-fiving, some weeping joyous tears.
Off the warship, central leaders awaited. "Seniors, you didn't need to come—I'm uneasy," I said, clasping their hands.
"No way—you're our boss now. Skip this, and you'll make life tough. We're itching to tour the cosmos," the old fox quipped.
"Uncle, I salute you for Beijing's Young Pioneers," a cute girl said, offering flowers. "I accept. In our new home, study hard, master advanced tech, and make our nation the cosmos' greatest," I replied.
"We will—we're dragon descendants, the noblest, mightiest!" she beamed. "Good—your hope's our nation's," I said, lifting and kissing her cheek.
On day four, a national conference tackled merger logistics and Earth's aftermath. My wives and I joined, with the elder council. "Earth's so vibrant—so many in such a tiny place. With this many subjects, Old Demon, you'd have surrendered," the God King teased the Demon King.
The Demon King rolled his eyes. "Please. With this many, you'd match me. Don't forget—Feitian's my son-in-law, heh."
"Mine too," the God King smirked.
"Your daughters are all wed," the Demon King puzzled. "Not my youngest—the prettiest god clan princess ever," he boasted.
The Demon King gawked, impressed. "Such long-term scheming—you're despicable. Respect." "You—" the God King glared. Idle, they bickered daily for fun.
The four-day conference decided: six central leaders, plus early migrants Along, Cohen, Xue'er, and A-Lang, became lifelong Yanhuang Great Elders. Economy followed empire mode; off-world ventures mimicked Yellow Dragon Group. Personal wealth required audits, converted to electronic coins proportionally. Illicit funds? Confiscated. All citizens got electronic cards—none meant no rights, crushing corrupt officials.
Policy-wise, a lock-country stance cut Earth ties temporarily. Yellow Dragon Group handled trade. A decree ordered all with Chinese blood, and descendants, to register for cards at designated global sites within six days—miss it, lose Chinese status.
Militarily, four million regular troops trained as reserves. Carded citizens received life pills and martial-magic training. Of 1.6 billion Chinese, 1 billion migrated to Sky Dragon System planets, 500 million to eight primal Milky Way planets (named Heaven, Earth, Flood, Desolation, Cosmos, Mystery, Yellow, Black). Earth retained under 100 million, mostly ex-armed police, now training.
Yellow Dragon Star's garrison defended that system. Migration surged, aided by foam-molding tech, building sturdy villas in half an hour. Prep prevented housing shortages, though overseas Chinese—200 million extra—strained supply. Two months later, migration wrapped. I boosted the six Great Elders to Tier 3 lower with pills; army-born generals hit Tier 3 upper easily, tied to training.
From this moment, the Sky Dragon Empire gained its cosmic edge—people. With 2.2 billion, Yanhuang became the largest clan, dubbed Ancient Dragon Clan alongside Flying Dragon's dragons, cementing a true dragon empire.
To celebrate, the Pandora campaign delayed to next spring, letting Yanhuang warriors train to minimum standards via pills. Eleven legions expanded from 500,000 to 800,000, with 100,000 warships. Elite Gold and Silver Dragon Legions hit 1 million, with 120,000 ships. The Palace Guard Legion swelled to 2 million across two divisions, defending Flying Dragon, Demon Realm, and six primal planets. Earth's defense? 10,000 small warships, manned by training reserves.
Earth nations courted us. Our migration documentaries, aired across systems and Earth, wowed with stunning vistas and unseen beasts, rattling global nerves.
In Japan, a Zongzu group claimed Japanese as Chinese descendants, citing history. Public clamor demanded proof to join the dragon clan.
Western bio-experts begged to study our planets. We denied visas—their tech's too backward. Our planets' aggressive creatures were monitored, confined, and population-controlled, minimizing early migrant casualties. After a year's training to Tier 2, plus Dragon Armor, they'd be safe. We poured funds into studying these beasts, finding a unique element in aggressive ones, boosting speed and energy. Refined, it birthed side-effect-free "Energy Pills," elevating warriors' combat prowess.
Spurned, Earth nations formed the Earth Alliance, plus smaller South American and African ones. Meanwhile, our empire thrived, managed flawlessly by super-AI "Bbi."
Our Ancient Dragon Clan elders kicked off a cosmic sightseeing tour.
Reader's Corner: Dragons unleashed! Will Feitian's empire dominate the cosmos? Can Earth's nations catch up, or will Pandora crash the party? Drop your galactic hot takes in the comments—fuel this dragon saga!