Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 292: All Changes, All Within the Palm of Your Hand

It was a series of exploding lightning bolts, and patches of light and fire spread out like a spider web. They intertwined and tangled, from which a raging wind surged forth, and a massive vortex was formed in the sky above the shores of Lake Divine Eye.

The water was sucked into the sky.

The lake water boiled, turning into thick mist that rose and pointed towards the sky. Irregular rainbows appeared around the huge vortex, and the size of the rainbows expanded and rose again, becoming in an instant equivalent to the aurora borealis, which can only be seen occasionally north of the Great Wall.

Jon swallowed.

Thunder, fire, wind, water, light… countless great forces beyond human power converged, intertwined, and transformed into a myriad of magnificent colors before him. Then, all those colors harmonized into one within the vortex, leaving only the purest and clearest black.

It looks like a person's eyes.

Jon Snow had seen the stranger who wielded the power of the Old Gods; that man had eyes just like those. Calm, indifferent. As if observing everything before him, yet also as if detached from it all. A single glance was enough to tell that such a person, creature, individual was absolutely different from ordinary people.

And now, those dark eyes were looking at him once again. At him, and at the place where his tens of thousands of troops were.

He heard a clattering sound, the trembling, clanging of the wolf riders' teeth. These warriors, personally selected and strengthened by him, should each be capable of tearing tigers and cheetahs apart, and would not flinch even in the face of a ferocious bear. Yet now, they were as frightened as a group of terrified little girls.

—I'm scared too.

Jon thought to himself, as he heard the sound of weapons falling behind him. He could clearly sense the fear and panic of the army behind him. Every one of them was now experiencing a heart-pounding pounding. And so was he.

The white wolf beneath him crouched low, letting out a deep howl. At this moment, the only one whose heart was not gripped by fear was this snow-white wolf.

"Quiet, White Spirit." He gently stroked the direwolf's mane.

The next moment, he, his wolves, and the tens of thousands of soldiers behind him, along with the hundreds of thousands of people in this miraculous city, heard the proclamation originating from the depths of the vortex.

“Come to me, Jon Snow.”

..............................

Jon saw the man again, and it was exactly the same as the last time they met—he was still the weak and ignorant Night's Watchman, and the man was still mysterious, majestic, and powerful.

Even though Jon Snow now controls the entire North.

Even though Jon Snow was already capable of commanding thousands of troops.

Even though Jon's bloodline power had been activated, and the forces of ice and fire flowed through his body, when this man reappeared before him, he felt as fragile and insignificant as ever, like a speck of dust.

The man still didn't look at Jon Snow—he simply stood quietly by the Lake of the Eye, yet boiling lightning and fire flowed within his eye sockets. His arms were like blocks of cold ice, and his legs were a swirling whirlwind. His body and head were constructed from constantly flowing silver molten lava.

It certainly didn't look like a human. But in just a moment, the thunder vanished, the fire ceased, the wind stilled, and the ice melted. And the silvery-white molten lava transformed into a jet-black robe.

He's like a human being now.

But he had never been less human than he was now. He raised his hand, and the saintly girl who had led Jon away immediately stepped back. Only then did his gaze shift to Jon, but his attention was no longer on him.

"My research has yielded results, and it's even better than I expected. Morphological changes are indeed not limited to biological structures but can also be applied to elemental transformations. And now, I no longer need to be confined to the human body."

He looked at Jon Snow and suddenly smiled—but he wasn't actually looking at Jon Snow, nor was he speaking to Jon Snow, the King in the North.

"Now I can probably cosplay as that high priest Imhotep. I can already unleash the ten plagues that cover an entire city, just like him. I can also transform into floods and storms like him. I can even regenerate and rebuild myself at will, just like him, even if my body is torn to pieces and bitten by snakes and insects. And this is pretty much in line with my original plan."

Jon felt he should say something, but he couldn't utter a sound. A voice deep within his heart whispered a warning, telling him that the best thing to do was remain silent.

“This must be what a high-ranking wizard looks like,” the man said, still uttering words Jon couldn’t understand. “Not those mass-produced products that rely on potions or copy the scholarship of their predecessors. But true power possessors who have their own philosophies and directions, and who have achieved unique results.” “However, my gains are even greater—I have modified my form and understood the workings of supernatural forces flowing through flesh and blood. This has allowed me, even in Westeros, to grasp the path to becoming a high-ranking warrior in Mondath—so-called high-ranking warriors are those who resonate with the Light Realm through their own will, thereby strengthening themselves with the power of the Light Realm and using it in battle. And now, I know how to sense and resonate with the elements of nature. Even if the Light Realm doesn’t exist in this world, I have finally figured out how to take this crucial step.”

He paused for a moment, and the smile on his face gradually disappeared.

"Soul and will, ideals and pursuits—having a goal to strive for is indeed much better than aimlessly stagnating and groping around. And now, I sincerely hope that we are still walking on paths that do not conflict with each other."

That was the end of his story.

However, Jon Snow, who had been completely unable to speak until a moment ago, suddenly felt a strong urge to express himself. A voice that did not belong to him burst from his throat, and every character was completely beyond his control.

"That's good. So, how do you move on to the next step?"

Sound output.

Something intangible and formless, deeply rooted in his very being, was drawn from Jon Snow's body—the young King in the North was acutely aware that something was parasitizing him, and that it was now escaping from his very being. This terrifying realization immediately ignited a fury within him.

This anger lasted only a moment. Because he possessed reason and was aware of the difference in power and status between the two sides.

"Then... are those the real Old Gods?" he asked, merely seeking a way to save face and not expecting any answer.

The man did not answer his question.

“Next, I will go to King’s Landing. This is something I decided to do long ago,” he said, his reply pointing to the unknown voice that spoke from Jon Snow’s blood and bones. “I will deal with any problems that may exist there, and then I may go to Essos, or perhaps explore the Valyrian wasteland.”

Only now did the man's gaze truly fall upon Jon.

“You can come with me to King’s Landing, Jon Snow. Take your army and accomplish your purpose. Rescue your father and sisters, and then you can return to your duties.”

That wasn't a suggestion, but a command. It represented God's questioning of human ability, because if He believed Jon Snow could truly conquer King's Landing and seize the royal domain, then He wouldn't need to prepare a more elite entourage to lead the southward-bound king.

Jon Snow's eye twitched violently.

"Why don't you... take matters into your own hands and resolve all of this? You don't need a king to fight for you."

The gods in mythology never personally intervened as frequently as the one before us. The kings chosen by them often had to personally overcome countless hardships and dangers. For gods possess their own majesty, and mortals are hardly worthy of their frequent protection.

as well as……

Jon Snow glanced at Miracle City in the distance. He didn't believe the city would submit to him, the chosen king. Everyone knew he was the chosen king of the Old Gods, yet this great city was bathed in the glory of the Seven Gods.

“You can be a king by yourself, and you are already doing so. You don’t need the help of mortals at all.”

He said that his question had exhausted all his courage. He was prepared to face any consequences, even though he didn't really understand what 'any consequences' meant.

Then he heard a reply that was completely unexpected.

“I am neither a king nor a god,” the man said. “I am merely a passerby.”

"But you are!"

“I am not.” The man shook his head slightly. “And you simply cannot accept the consequences of me ascending to godhood. Guess what I would do if I truly became your god?”

(End of this chapter)