The moment Silver Luan finished, the Black Dragon Battleship shuddered like a gong struck underwater.

The ship twisted to evade, and a leviathan heaved from the sea, ramming the magic shield like a rising cliff.

Its bulk and the blow threw up a wall of waves tens of meters high; the shield held, and the ship settled back like a dropped anvil.

“So big…”

A giant black shark, larger than the ship, loomed like a mountain of flesh and blotted half the viewport.

“That’s too big…”

“Is the main cannon ready?”

“About ten minutes to charge!”

“Damn…”

Anger first, hot as steam; Baili stomped, then cut a look at Silver Luan.

“We’d better not attack head-on…”

Baili clearly thought a guardian aboard meant she could go hunt alone; Silver Luan poured a basin of cold water on that thought.

“I can feel a very powerful mana source in the abyss below.”

The Black Dragon Battleship is strong, a mid-size warship; but its scans can’t match a Seventh Rank’s raw sense.

On a normal day, it might rival non-specialists in perception; not now.

We’re ringed by beasts, mana is a torn storm, the shield is flared, and the main cannon is charging.

For target seeking, the Black Dragon Battleship’s eyes are clouded right now.

“We may have run into a real surprise,” Silver Luan said, voice cool as wind over dark water.

“Don’t tell me it’s a high-rank individual…”

“High chance. And it’s strange. If a high-rank is here, why hasn’t it struck first? The Black Dragon’s concealment array masks and severs perception inside. In the game room, a mere beast shouldn’t sense me at all.”

Giant black sharks aren’t built for sensing; they hunt with teeth, not minds.

By their nature, once they find prey, they commit and crash in like breakers.

The strongest hiding in the dark and commanding runts is rare, almost wrong for the species.

We killed one of the three Sixth Ranks with a first-strike kill and shocked the school.

If we wipe out the Fifth Rank core—their backbone—there’s a good chance they’ll break and flee.

Yet when Silver Luan stretched her spirit power to the seabed, she felt, far below, a mana presence like a furnace in a trench.

High-rank beasts are rare as comets.

Meeting one this easily felt unreal, like a coin landing on edge.

Surprise flickered across Baili’s face; after the explanation, gravity settled like a stone.

She flagged down a nearby crewman.

“Crush the special rune linking to the city. Follow the emergency support protocol.”

“Yes!”

“Also…”

Baili rattled off several orders. Silver Luan kept her focus extended. Cerqin and Aileaf stared out the viewport.

They watched the leviathan sink, slow and heavy, until smaller black sharks rolled back to close the ring.

“Cerqin, help me.”

“What is it?”

“My spirit power’s burning too fast. Help me recover.”

“Uh—okay.”

Cerqin blinked, then trotted up behind Silver Luan, hugged her tight, and triggered Love God.

She’s still Fifth Rank. She can’t top off a Seventh Rank’s drained spirit in moments.

But she can almost match the burn rate; the aid hits like rain on dry earth.

In this chaos, spreading spirit sense wide drinks mana like sand. Even a Seventh Rank feels stretched thin.

They kept probing, the pressure a steady drumbeat.

Then something of the wrong scale entered Silver Luan’s sense, like a bell note from below.

It wasn’t enormous for its tier; it was smaller than expected, and that was worse.

Its outline matched a Fifth Rank black shark, about the Black Dragon Battleship’s size.

“Didn’t expect a mutated one…” Silver Luan’s face, usually serene, tightened like a drawn string.

If it were a normal oversized high-rank black shark, she could one-shot that mountain of meat.

A variant means trouble, thorns underfoot.

Normal giants fight the same: rams, mana breath, and wave control, tide after tide.

Mutants are different—like a bloodline awakened among the wise versus one still asleep—worlds apart.

“This is messy. I don’t know the mutation path. I hope it’s a commander-type. If it’s combat-enhanced or boosted elsewhere, it’s a headache.”

Silver Luan made the call at once.

“Strike first. Cerqin, come with me?”

“Huh? I’m Fifth Rank—how do I join a fight between Seventh Ranks?”

“Hang on me. Just keep my energy up. Relax. I won’t let you get hurt.”

“Isn’t that too dangerous?” Aileaf frowned, worry like a knotted rope.

“If it’s combat-specialized and it moves, the Black Dragon Battleship could be at risk. Also, don’t sit on the main cannon. Aileaf, Baili—go proactive. Guard against surprises.”

“Got it!” Baili answered, crisp as a snapped flag.

Waves hammered the deck. Silver Luan changed into a swim suit, tight, high-strength fabric hugging like a second skin.

It was tougher than a knight’s armor, a slick shell over steel.

Around them, leviathans rose and sank, half-breaching, eyes predatory; mana squalls and flesh collisions painted a hell-scroll.

The Black Dragon Battleship pitched hard. Silver Luan swept a glance, nodded to Baili and Aileaf, then dove straight in.

Cerqin latched onto her, legs around her slim waist, arms tight, Love God roaring at full.

The water bit cold, and the currents raged like storm whips—nothing like a placid training tank.

Silver Luan wrapped Cerqin in her mana, a warm sheath against the crushing depths.

The suit helped, and a Fifth Rank body barely held up.

But this was battle; one slip and you bleed. Silver Luan stayed careful as a cat on ice.

They arrowed downward. Light thinned to ink. With vast spirit power, the two-as-one drove for the mark.

In spare heartbeats, Cerqin swept her own spirit sense around; but with Love God at full, she couldn’t range far.

Minutes later, Cerqin felt Silver Luan’s mana fully unfurl. Power breathed from her scales like heat, and the deep currents seemed to calm.

From a crack in the deep reef, a huge shadow burst out, speed like a spear. It flashed into Cerqin’s sense and went face-to-face.

Silver Luan slipped aside and snapped a cross, fist like a falling hammer.

A great surge slammed the shadow. Mana and might sank without ripples, like stones swallowed by silt.

It was as if the shadow had no body. Yet its presence, its coagulated mana, its shape—everything screamed high-rank beast.

A mutant at the top tier—its power felt uncanny, a maze in the dark.

Her first hit failed. She broke off, gathered her spirit power, and lashed out. The shadow dodged, quick as a knife-fish.

Silver Luan’s heart dipped. This mutant was wrapped in spirit power hardened to grit, a grindstone you could feel.

Its true body might be even smaller than it looked.

And the Dragon Deity’s gift lies in flesh and bone. In spirit force, she’s not the one with the edge.