The wind carried salt and the sound of tides smashing the rocks, as Zhongli stood at the cliff's edge, overlooking the sea. The horizon shimmered under the golden hue of the setting sun, painting the waters in molten amber. Below him, the vast expanse of Sea God Island teemed with life and quiet reverence—but not for the one it had once been named after.
The sunlight bathed him in golden warmth, its rays glinting off his fair skin and casting a soft glow across his sharp features. His amber eyes, rich with ancient wisdom and power, gleamed with yellow diamond-shaped pupils, framed by a distinct red eyeliner lining his lower lids. His dark brown hair was mostly short and meticulously styled, save for a waist-length strand that flowed freely behind him, a reminder of the divine weight he carried. At the tips of his fringe—particularly the long lock sweeping over the right side of his face—glowed a muted amber, flickering gently as his power stirred.
The wind stirred the tail of his long coat, sending fabric and tassels fluttering in rhythm with the sea breeze. His attire was a masterwork of dignified restraint and divine opulence: a beige dress shirt hugged his frame beneath a brown and amber waistcoat adorned with diamond motifs; slim black trousers led down to polished black dress boots, and his hands, clad in black gloves, bore silver archer rings on both thumbs—symbols of precision and fate. A white silk tie rested at his throat, pinned by a glowing amber gem, while a single jeweled tassel earring shimmered from his left ear.
Over it all, he wore a long, dark brown tailcoat traced with dragon scale patterns, accented with gold and silver trim, tassels at the shoulders, and diamond-shaped embellishments glinting with each movement. Every detail—from the sleeves to the belt, the buttons to the collar—bore the signature diamond symbol, a mark of his identity and the legacy of contracts, stone, and power that followed him.
Behind him, Bo Saixi, Xiaobai, and the Guardians stood silently, waiting for his word. Their loyalty now ran deeper than the ocean, not for Poseidon, but for the one who had challenged him—and prevailed.
Zhongli spoke without turning. His voice was calm, yet laced with quiet amusement.
"You do know you don't have to go through the trouble of reporting everything to me, right?"
Bo Saixi stepped forward, her robes swaying in the ocean breeze. "It's no trouble," she said, her tone steady and sincere. "Not anymore."
The Guardians nodded in agreement, their eyes respectful. The Sea Orb had accepted them—changed them. Their martial spirits had evolved, not only in form but in purpose. Each one now bore the mark of Guardian, protectors not of Poseidon's will, but as Protectors of Sea.
Sea Woman Douluo had advanced to Level 95 from 91.
Sea Star Douluo, once stagnant at 91, now stood proudly at 95.
Sea Ghost Douluo, fierce and enigmatic, was now at 96.
Sea Horse and Sea Spear Douluos had both reached 96 and 97 respectively.
Sea Illusion Douluo, the silent mystic, had attained Level 98.
And Hai Long—Sea Dragon Douluo—had reached the threshold of godhood at Level 99.
All their martial spirits, spirit rings age and even soul skills Changed, Bo Saixi herself had taken half step into the divine realm—but stopped and chose to remain. A self-imposed seal kept her powers restrained, yet her might now rivaled a Second Class God. Her loyalty was no longer bound by faith—it was earned by truth.
The shift had been immense.
Since the Wrath of Poseidon, belief in the Sea God had fractured. Whispers of doubt became declarations of change. Many sea soul beasts and inhabitants of the island saw through the god's neglect, the centuries of absence. Poseidon's last appearance had been twenty thousand years ago, to subdue the Deep Sea Demonic Whale King. Since then—nothing. No guidance, no protection.
It had taken Zhongli's intervention—his confrontation, his truth—to reveal the rot beneath Poseidon glorious image. His power had countered Poseidon's perfectly, and in doing so, had exposed the god's decay.
Only a minority remained loyal to Poseidon—and they had left, vanishing into the ocean's vast embrace.
Bo Saixi continued. "With the increase in pilgrims—soul masters and beasts alike—we had to expand the barrier. The Sea Crown has blessed this land with more than just protection. It's become a sanctuary. A holy ground."
Zhongli gave a slight nod, eyes still fixed on the ocean. " Then Let them find peace here."
Xiaobai's voice broke in, more serious. "We did encounter some trouble. A group of Demon Spirit Orcas attempted to ambush new arrivals near the southern reef. Sea Illusion Douluo and Sea Woman Douluo repelled them—but it felt like a test, not a strike."
Sea Horse Douluo stepped forward, his expression grim. "We believe the Demon Spirit Orca King is planning something larger. A message, perhaps. To show that he does not recognize the new order. That he does not care who rules Sea God Island."
Zhongli's eyes narrowed slightly, his golden irises shimmering like forged obsidian.
Zhongli turned from the horizon, his golden eyes steady and calm as he addressed the guardians behind him.
"I will take care of the Demon Spirit Orca King," he said softly. "You only need to handle the rest of his clan."
Bo Saixi bowed deeply, her sea-blue eyes gleaming with unwavering faith. "As you command."
The Guardians nodded, silent but resolute. They had no doubts—Zhongli's words were not a boast. They were a promise.
Zhongli's dress flutters slightly and rippling the sea below, a crimson glint shimmered into existence in Zhongli's hand. A spear unlike any other—Gáe Bolg.
Its presence alone silenced the waves.
Long and slender, the weapon pulsed with ominous beauty. Its twisted shaft gleamed like braided iron soaked in blood, every spiral etched with runes of fatal precision. The crimson hue of its body was deeper than any natural red—like the memory of ancient war and divine punishment forged into a single killing tool.
The head of the spear tapered into a vicious point, flanked by cruel barbs that promised agony upon entry and devastation upon exit. The spearhead itself shimmered with a malevolent sheen, as though thirsting for its target before it even left the wielder's hand.
At the shaft's rear, the pommel mirrored its lethal elegance—a second point, designed not as an afterthought but as a final warning.
Zhongli closed his eyes.
Across leagues of sea and pressure, through currents and silence and the forgotten dark of the ocean's abyss, he reached out with his divine senses—until he found him.
Xie Hu.
The Demon Spirit Orca King.
A monster clad in volcanic rage and abyssal power. His massive frame pulsed with the rhythm of a corrupted sea, his body glowing with demonic energy like magma beneath deep ocean pressure. Crimson skin gleamed with obsidian striations, and jagged fins flickered with runes like underwater thunder.
His eyes—glowing red slits—sliced through the dark with sentient hate. His aura was suffocating, the sea around him stilled by his mere presence. Death followed his wake. He was not a beast.
He was a storm, waiting to be loosed.
And he was moving. Hunting.
Zhongli opened his eyes and smiled.
A low hum began to resonate through the air, then roared into a shockwave as red, flame-like energy coiled around Gáe Bolg. The aura burned brighter, angrier, lashing out like a living creature eager for release.
Then—he moved.
He stepped to the cliff's edge.
And threw.
The lance vanished in a flash of crimson light.
A sonic boom split the air. The force of the throw cracked the stone beneath Zhongli's feet. Bo Saixi and the Guardians staggered slightly, awestruck.
The air screamed as the spear carved through it at Mach 2, a beam of blood-red light painting the sky.
Sea Lance Douluo stared, awe struck. As a man who wielded a spear himself, he could only whisper, "What a powerful weapon…"
The spear arced impossibly high, then turned. Its trajectory shifted unnaturally, impossibly—guided not by the laws of nature, but by divine will. It twisted, folded space around it, then dived straight down in a vertical, murderous plunge.
Deep beneath the waves, Xie Hu sensed something—too late.
The ocean parted with a thunderous shriek.
Gáe Bolg struck.
It pierced the waters like judgment itself. A red pillar of divine light stabbed down from the heavens and impaled the Demon Spirit Orca King through his monstrous heart.
A tremor rippled through the sea as dark blood frothed to the surface. Xie Hu's massive frame convulsed once—then fell still. The malevolent glow that had once tainted the deep faded into silence.
While Zhongli simply extended his hand, his movements calm and deliberate. A flicker of red and black light coalesced above his open palm, swirling with dense spiritual pressure. In an instant, the red spirit ring of the 100,000 year old Demon Spirit Orca King formed, hovering silently like a crown of conquest.