What exactly were Qin Yi's plans?
Simple, world domination.
Of course, that deceptively straightforward goal, when outlined by General Yang, contained countless layers of strategic detail and nuanced execution.
One had to admit, General Yang was truly a rare talent. Without someone like him, it would have been impossible to help the various clan leaders grasp the complex political landscape and power structures of this unfamiliar realm… all in a single afternoon.
And thanks to Qin Yi's King's Strength, the moment they arrived, he had already imprinted the language of the Dragon Emperor World into their minds. The Huaxia tongue now flowed naturally from their lips, as if they'd spoken it their entire lives.
Three days later, a force of three thousand elite Shinobi departed from the core territories of Qin's Nation, setting off to conquer the Eastern Continent.
Back in Qin's Nation, troops were assembling in massive numbers. Military formations mobilized swiftly, expanding outward in all directions like ripples from a thrown stone.
Such grand movements could not remain concealed for long.
Soon, the entire world was aware.
In the Northern Continent, public opinion was buzzing with disbelief.
"What is that Emperor of Qin thinking? Is he really planning to take the entire Eastern Continent by force?"
"He's lost his mind! Completely insane!"
"Arrogant! He's overestimating himself."
While the average citizen dismissed Qin Yi as an ambitious lunatic, those who had witnessed his power firsthand harbored no such illusions.
Inside the presidential office of the Northern Continent, President Sullivan sat with a grim face. Across from him were O'Connell and his companions, veterans of the Mummy Incident and survivors of the Dragon Emperor's terrifying resurrection.
They had seen the supernatural with their own eyes and survived it.
"President Sullivan, please… hear us out. This concerns the safety of the entire world!"
They hadn't come through official channels. No authorization, no appointments, just sheer desperation. That alone made their sudden presence all the more jarring.
The president's guards instantly moved to expel them.
But O'Connell's shouted plea froze everyone in place.
President Sullivan narrowed his eyes, put down the documents in his hands, and after a brief pause, waved his hand.
"Let them speak."
The guards stopped reluctantly, glaring but compliant.
O'Connell and the others immediately launched into their account, voices fast, anxious, and unwavering.
"Mr. President, we were in the ancient Xia territory seven days ago. We saw it all, things beyond belief."
They spoke of the Dragon Emperor rising from the sands of history, of armies pulled from the dead, of a man from two thousand years ago seizing the reins of a nation and rebirthing it as Qin.
As the tale unfolded, President Sullivan's expression darkened.
"You're saying the destruction of the Fusang military base was his doing? That this so-called Emperor summoned an Undead Legion from the underworld to wage war against the modern world?"
It sounded absurd. After all, the Northern Continent had only recently completed its nuclear arsenal, weapons capable of silencing entire nations. And now they were being told that a man from ancient China was summoning deathless warriors?
"Yes!" O'Connell's voice cracked with urgency.
"He's already unified Xia and renamed it Qin. Now, he's marching on the Eastern Continent, he plans to take the entire world next!"
President Sullivan remained silent for a long time.
Their words weren't the ramblings of madmen. These were men who had risked everything to deliver a warning. And judging by their tone, expressions, and desperation, this was no lie.
Eventually, Sullivan called over a secretary and whispered a few urgent instructions.
The secretary glanced briefly at the group, his expression growing solemn, then left the room.
Five minutes later, he returned and handed a file to the president, murmuring something in his ear.
President Sullivan flipped it open.
Inside were classified photographs: aerial images of an eerie black dragon coiled within clouds, indistinct but massive… and rows upon rows of undead warriors marching in formation, all bearing the imperial insignia of Qin.
The intel had come from multiple nations. The data was corroborated. The world wasn't just watching, it was bracing.
Sullivan slowly closed the file.
"You may go rest for now. I'll handle this matter."
O'Connell and his team froze.
No confirmation. No denial. Just… dismissal?
"Wait, !" they began to protest.
But the guards were already moving again. This time, no hesitation. The visitors were escorted out swiftly.
Once the room was empty, President Sullivan leaned back and pressed his fingers to his temples.
"It's all true," he muttered bitterly. "All of it."
A war was coming. A collision between modern science and ancient myth. It sounded impossible, until he saw the proof with his own eyes.
The face of the Dragon Emperor in the photos was blurred, almost intangible… yet it radiated such pressure that it felt as if a beast of legend were gazing back through the page.
Two hours later, Sullivan sat in the high-security conference chamber, surrounded by the military and political elite of the Northern Continent.
He looked around at the somber faces and asked the question hanging over them all.
"What do we do now?"
The leaders silently flipped through the documents in their hands, their faces shifting between shock and disbelief.
Just days ago, rumors of Qin's Nation had seemed like baseless conspiracy theories, wild tales conjured up by fringe elements and dismissed without a second thought. And now? Now those so-called myths were standing on the edge of becoming a terrifying reality.
"Qin's Nation hasn't directly threatened our interests yet. Even the Fusang incident, though severe, hasn't broken our alliance, at least not officially. Based on current intelligence, we have no justification for any retaliatory action."
One of the senior administrative officials spoke cautiously, choosing each word with care.
But not everyone in the room shared his prudence.
"That's where I disagree," said a high-ranking general, voice sharp and commanding.
"All available data points to this Dragon Emperor of Great Qin being a ruler with overwhelming ambition. His intent is obvious: world conquest."
He glanced around the room, letting the words sink in.
"You don't wait for a wildfire to reach your doorstep before you act. A king who dares to challenge global order must be treated as a threat, before he becomes one we can no longer contain."
"If he turns his sights on us, it'll already be too late!" President Sullivan's eyes narrowed, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
Internally, he agreed.
The Northern Continent was the current hegemon of the King's World, boasting the most advanced military, vast territory, and an unmatched reservoir of natural resources. They had invested decades in shaping a new world order.
Now, this newly risen Qin Nation, led by a mythic figure from ancient Huaxia known only as the Dragon Emperor, was threatening that balance.
And the man wasn't just a historical warlord resurrected from legend. He commanded the dead, manipulated spiritual energy, and held sway over civilizations that defied even modern science.
He was the kind of variable the Northern Continent could not afford to ignore.
"I propose we take preemptive action," someone said grimly.
The words hung heavy in the air. The meaning was clear, even if the methods were left unspoken.
Everyone in the room understood what it meant: a first strike.
After all, their newest generation of weaponry could vaporize armies in an instant. In their eyes, no force, undead or divine, could stand against it.
Still, President Sullivan remained silent, listening as voices around the table rose in heated debate.
The room fractured into two camps, those pushing for war and those urging caution. Tension built like a coiled spring as military advisors clashed with diplomats, strategy analysts with intelligence officers. The air buzzed with arguments, speculation, and veiled threats.
And in the end, it was the pro-war faction that prevailed.
President Sullivan looked across the table, meeting the eyes of each person present. His voice, when he finally spoke, was firm and steady.
"Then it's decided. Mobilize the relevant departments. Prepare for an immediate strike."
He paused, then added with steely finality:
"Target: the so-called Dragon Emperor of Qin's Nation. The world cannot afford to wait."
(End of Chapter)
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