“Brother Xianyun!” The red-haired elder turned his head sharply, his already bulging eyes suddenly widening even more, as if they were about to burst.
Suppressing a surge of anger, he coldly demanded, “What do you mean by that?!”
“What do I mean? Ha ha ha…” Daoist Xianyun raised his wine jar and took another swig, bursting into hearty laughter.
Then, waving toward the east, he declared, “Though the vast East Sea stretches for ten thousand miles, it’s nothing more than empty, open waters! No spiritual ores, no hidden realms. Who doesn’t know that since ancient times, your entire Dragon Clan has coveted even just three feet of fertile land in our Jiuzhou?!”
“Ever since the Holy Emperor Xuanyuan relentlessly drove you out, it’s been exactly eight thousand years. Your clan has never stopped longing to return, yet you’ve always feared our great formation and never dared approach the borders.”
“Now, if you use this opportunity to seize Xuzhou—northward you could invade Yun, westward you could eye the capital—how could that be just a mere foothold? I’d say dividing Jiuzhou into three parts wouldn’t be out of the question!”