HDRDTH -Chapter 122 Taigong Is Here

The sound of the TV news still echoed through the living room.

Latitude 30°N, longitude 142°E.

Yu Xian stared fixedly at those coordinates on the screen. The dark red vertical mark in his right palm burned with shocking intensity, like a red-hot branding iron pressed into his flesh.

That was his private island—purchased in his previous life in 2015 for a full three billion yuan. A top-tier seaside villa had been built there, along with a deep-water dock, meant for escaping the scheming of the business world and quietly fishing at sea.

Now, it was 2003.

And his island had become some damn “Ruins of Return anomaly point”?

Yu Xian clenched his teeth.

He didn’t care about myths descending or high-dimensional relics. He only knew one thing: the land he had bought with real money in his previous life hadn’t even been transferred to his name yet—and now it was about to be declared a restricted zone by the United Nations.

He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and dialed Lin Jianguo.

It rang once before being picked up.

“Mr. Yu!”

Yu Xian cut him off immediately.

“Go check the ownership of the island at 30°N, 142°E in the Pacific. No matter which country it belongs to now, no matter whose hands it’s in—buy it for me. Immediately.”

There was a two-second silence on the other end.

Lin Jianguo’s hand holding the porcelain teacup trembled violently, scalding tea splashing onto his skin, but he didn’t even flinch.

30°N, 142°E.

He glanced down at the classified global emergency briefing on his desk. That coordinate was exactly the Ruins of Return outbreak point that had shaken the world ten minutes ago.

“…Mr. Yu,” Lin Jianguo swallowed, carefully choosing his words, “that sea area is currently ownerless territory. The UN has just issued a global blockade order. The White Eagle Nation’s Seventh Fleet is fifty nautical miles away, ready to take it over by force at any moment.”

“I don’t care which fleet it is.”

Yu Xian’s voice turned cold.

“That’s my island. If I can’t buy it, I’ll go take it myself.”

Beep—

The call ended.

Lin Jianguo collapsed into his chair, chest rising and falling violently.

Buy an island?

This wasn’t buying an island at all.

Mr. Yu was planning to personally claim a myth-class relic like the Ruins of Return as private property. Anyone who interfered would become his enemy.

Lin Jianguo’s hands trembled as he grabbed the red hotline phone and dialed Chu Feng directly.

“Chu Feng, something big has happened. Mr. Yu is going to take over the Ruins of Return. His exact words: if he can’t buy it, he’ll go take it himself.”

Beijing, Supreme Command Center.

Chu Feng hung up and turned toward Old Leader Li standing before the massive sand table.

Blue flags representing the White Eagle Nation’s Seventh Fleet were planted over the Pacific sector.

After hearing the report, Old Leader Li said nothing.

He placed both hands on the edge of the sand table and stared at the blue flag for a full ten seconds.

Chu Feng had never seen him this silent before.

Just as he thought the old man was about to erupt—

Li suddenly laughed.

Not the loud, hearty laughter from before, but a soft, almost relaxed chuckle—as if he had seen through something long ago.

“Go take it himself,” Li repeated, shaking his head.

“Alright.”

He raised his head, eyes calm to the point of coldness.

“Prepare the fastest supersonic strategic transport aircraft for Mr. Yu. The East Sea Fleet and South Sea Fleet will deploy fully and form a formation at the edge of international waters.”

“We will not cross the line. But we will let the world see this: behind Mr. Yu stands the entire nation of China.”

Li turned and walked toward the exit, stopping at the door.

“Anyone who dares fire a shot at him in the Pacific—China will wage full-scale war.”

—

Jinshui Bay Villa No. 1.

Yu Xian stuffed his phone into his pocket and picked up the magnetic fluid mental amplification device leaning against the wall.

“Da Fu, Li Yao. Come with me.”

He shuffled toward the door in slippers.

Wang Dafu hurriedly grabbed a canvas bag and followed. Li Yao silently walked to the garage and opened the pickup truck door.

Just as they exited the villa gate, three black armed helicopters roared in and hovered steadily over the lawn.

Chu Feng, fully equipped in combat gear, jumped down from the lead helicopter and strode up to Yu Xian, snapping a salute.

“Mr. Yu! The special transport is fully preheated at the military airport! Codename ‘Kunpeng’—a supersonic strategic transport aircraft—will fly directly to the target sea area at Mach 3!”

Yu Xian looked at Chu Feng’s body armor and tactical helmet, frowning deeply.

“I’m just going to buy an island and catch some fish. Why are you all acting like you’re about to blow up the Earth?”

He waved his hand impatiently.

Chu Feng stood rigid.

“Rest assured, Mr. Yu! We will not interfere in your private acquisition! We are only providing transportation!”

Yu Xian sighed and boarded the helicopter without another word.

—

Two hours later.

Pacific Ocean, international waters, 30°N, 142°E.

The sea was shrouded in dense white fog. Within the swirling mist, massive bronze palace structures flickered like a mirage.

Fifty nautical miles away from the Ruins of Return anomaly point—

The White Eagle Nation’s Seventh Fleet.

On the bridge of a Nimitz-class nuclear aircraft carrier, Fleet Commander Smith stared through binoculars at the distant fog.

The President’s withdrawal order had come four hours ago. But Smith hadn’t moved.

Thirty-seven years in the Navy—and he had never run without firing a shot. He wanted to see for himself what this so-called “Chinese god” really was.

“Commander!”

The radar officer rushed onto the bridge, drenched in sweat.

“A Chinese supersonic strategic transport aircraft is approaching at high speed! Estimated arrival over the Ruins in ten minutes!”

Smith sneered.

“The Chinese are insane? Sending a transport plane to seize a high-dimensional relic?”

He raised his voice.

“Lock it with anti-air missiles. The moment it enters Ruins airspace—shoot it down.”

At that moment, the red classified hotline on the bridge suddenly rang violently.

Smith picked it up.

“I am Osborn.”

The White Eagle Nation’s president’s hoarse, terrified voice came from across the ocean.

“Mr. President, the Chinese transport aircraft is approaching. I request permission to open fire,” Smith said loudly.

“Fire my ass!”

Osborn immediately exploded into curses.

“Listen to me, Smith! The person on that plane is Yu Xian! The Chinese man who crushed the Olympus Project and paralyzed the Pentagon!”

Smith’s hand froze on the receiver.

“Why the hell didn’t you retreat four hours ago?!” Osborn screamed hysterically. “Withdraw immediately! The entire fleet turn around! Push maximum speed! Don’t let him see your gun barrels! If you provoke him, the entire White Eagle Nation will be buried with you!”

The call ended.

Smith stood there in a daze.

The pride he had built over thirty-seven years of service shattered into dust in those three seconds.

Like a madman, he lunged at the control console.

“Fleet-wide order! Abandon formation! Hard rudder turn! Reactor output to 100%!”

Smith roared out the most humiliating order of his entire military career.

“Run! Run toward Hawaii at full speed!”

The massive nuclear-powered aircraft carrier carved a ridiculous, desperate arc across the sea. The entire Seventh Fleet didn’t even bother recovering their airborne jets—they simply went full throttle in the opposite direction, fleeing at maximum speed.

—

Ten minutes later.

The “Kunpeng” strategic transport aircraft arrived over the Ruins of Return.

It circled in low altitude. The rear cargo hatch slowly opened.

A violent ocean wind rushed into the cabin, instantly turning Yu Xian’s hair into a mess.

Standing at the hatch, he wore a gray undershirt, holding that metal rod. His slippers flapped loudly in the wind.

He looked down at the swirling fog below, then at the Seventh Fleet in the distance—already fleeing in panic.

“What’s wrong with these foreigners?” Yu Xian frowned.

“They’re driving like they’re being chased by a dog. They’re stirring up my fishing spot.”

Chu Feng stood behind him, staring at the radar screen full of fleeing signals, biting his lip without saying a word.

He had no words left.

“Da Fu.” Yu Xian turned his head.

Wang Dafu quickly handed him the canvas bag.

From it, Yu Xian pulled out a red plastic bucket filled with thick earthworms he had dug up in his backyard at Jinshui Bay.

He placed the bucket at the hatch and grabbed two worms, tossing them straight down.

“Set the bait.”

Yu Xian said calmly.

Chu Feng’s eyes widened.

The worms were swept by the wind, tumbling down into the mist-covered sea of ancient palaces.

The dark red mark in Yu Xian’s right palm was now so hot it felt like it might ignite.

He could feel it.

Something in the fog below was calling him desperately.

That feeling was exactly the same as in his dream by the Wei River—when Jiang Ziya once handed him a fishing rod made of bamboo.

There are fish under the water. There is a hook in the heart.

Yu Xian took a deep breath and gripped the metal rod with both hands.

No bait. No line.

He simply pointed the rod toward the bottomless fog-covered sea.

“Open.”

Buzz——!

The metal rod emitted a sharp sonic boom.

A semi-transparent force field visible to the naked eye erupted from the tip like an inverted waterfall, slamming violently into the ocean surface.

BOOM!

Within ten miles, the dense white fog was forcibly torn apart. The sea was violently pushed aside, forming a massive whirlpool hundreds of meters deep.

At its center—the bronze palace was finally revealed.

Its gates were shut tight, covered in dense ancient totems.

Yu Xian’s wrist suddenly sank.

A pull a hundred times stronger than the Eight-Headed Serpent from Wild Boar Gorge transmitted directly through the invisible force field into the rod.

A cheap fiberglass fishing rod would have snapped instantly—but this military-grade artifact worth billions did not.

Instead, it bent into a terrifying arc.

“I’ve got a bite.”

Yu Xian’s eyes sharpened.

The enormous force dragged him toward the hatch. His left slipper flew off, spinning in the wind before disappearing into the clouds.

Barefoot on his left foot, he planted his right foot hard against the metal frame of the hatch and unleashed his strength from his waist.

Chu Feng and Li Yao gripped the cabin handles tightly, staring at the impossible scene below.

With Yu Xian’s pull, it looked as if even the surface of the Pacific Ocean tilted slightly.

The two massive bronze doors of the palace let out a thunderous roar.

They were forcibly pulled open a crack.

A beam of pure golden light erupted from the gap, shooting straight into the sky.

Within the light, a colossal black shadow was slowly dragged out of the water by Yu Xian’s force field.

It was a massive black bronze coffin, covered in cracks across its surface.

On its lid, four ancient seal-script characters were engraved:

Taigong Is Here.