Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Day and night alternated, the stars shifted, and a stretch of time not particularly long passed quietly.

The convergence lands remained ruled by unending cold and blowing snow; featherlike flakes never ceased drifting down, and the harsh howling winds were relentless.

But unlike the usual deathly stillness.

Across the convergence lands, the Molten Iron Tribe’s strongholds were now a scene of solemnity mixed with boiling tension.

Countless followers — whether the hulking ogres, burly werewolf warriors, fleet-footed centaur knights, or the innumerable gnolls, kobolds, and lizardfolk — most wore taut faces, their solemn expressions threaded with an indescribable excitement, like arrows about to be loosed.

They were already fully armored; frost blossomed on cold plates, heavy weapons were clutched in claws or slung across backs, and every breath turned into sharp white puffs in the freezing air.

They were like secret currents lying dormant beneath the snowplain.

From different valleys, plains, and hills they surged forth in orderly waves, and under the urging of their leaders they marched through deep drifts, leaving winding tracks that were immediately renamed by fresh wind and snow.

In the end.

Trickling streams converged into roaring rivers, forming several massive coiling dragonlines across the snow-covered vastness.

Their objective was utterly clear.

It was the Ser Wilderness to the south of the convergence lands — that land now plunged into chaos and war but brimming with endless opportunity,

where Garoth lay in his long slumber.

The Molten Iron Tribe, like a beast that had withdrawn its claws and feigned sleep, strictly followed the Redwing Lord’s orders, deliberately retracting its edge and avoiding large-scale outward campaigns.

However.

To temper the monsters’ ferocity and warlike natures and to preserve combat effectiveness,

training and brutal arena fights within the tribe became frequent and intense.

Day after day, the followers honed themselves in ice and snow, sharpening their skills.

Over time their claws and fangs became exceedingly sharp, and their will to fight, hammered again and again like forged iron, grew ever tougher,

waiting only for that one command.

Then they would surge out of the convergence lands and fight across a broader world.

So when the Redwing Lord gave the order, the tribe’s elite forces spread across the convergence lands were mobilized with high efficiency in a very short time, forming disciplined, murderous monster legions that surged forward like a floodgate opening, resolutely advancing toward the wilderness.

As for the bitterly cold convergence lands, they were not being abandoned outright.

They still contained unexploited rare mines, substantial reserves of black oil, and the Black Iron Plains where a basic alchemical industry was being established... these valuable resources and strategic footholds were the foundation for the Molten Iron Tribe’s future development and couldn’t be lightly forfeited.

Therefore.

Xihan’s mature White Dragon Trixie, all the young dragons who had not yet reached the Young Adult stage, three subordinate Wild Beast Lords, Grand Artificer Scott, the Serpentfolk Sword Saint Narys, Centaur Elvy...

These core figures,

together with a portion of the elite follower legions, were still ordered to remain behind in the convergence lands to guard this initial cradle of the dragon clan’s rise and to protect the snowy homeland.

High above, in the densest snowscape,

Garoth’s huge body circled slowly beneath leaden clouds, and the sky filled with swirling snowflakes that were whipped aloft by his powerful wingbeats.

The brass-silver dragon Deborah flew beside him; her graceful scales shimmered with faint light and still gleamed brilliantly.

“Deborah, have your parents sent any word recently? For instance, when might they be able to return to the convergence lands?”

Garoth’s voice cut through the wind’s howl as he asked calmly.

Deborah tilted her head slightly, her long neck tracing an elegant arc.

“My father sent a single secret transmission in between, simply telling me that storms and upheavals rage across the world, and advising me not to leave the still relatively safe convergence lands rashly.”

“But they didn’t say when they might return.”

She paused and spoke with a hint of uncertainty: “It seems that adult and older metal dragons are participating in some extremely important collective rite to try to prolong the life of the Gold Dragon King, but it was interrupted by the arrival of Hitherfell the End of Winter, so the ceremony was surely affected and disturbed to some extent.”

“How long it will take in the end to complete, and whether it succeeds or fails, I’m afraid no one can say for sure.”

The Gold Dragon King she referred to was, of course, the mighty Twenty-Four-Winged Gold Dragon.

Within the tightly unified metal-dragon system, five supreme dragon kings were chosen across different dragon branches by virtue of their power and noble character:

the Gold Dragon King, Silver Dragon King, Bronze Dragon King, Brass Dragon King, and the Copper Dragon King.

Each of them had lived over a thousand years and was an unfathomably powerful ancient dragon; even among the ancients these five were indisputably at the pinnacle.

The most powerful and revered among them was, without doubt, the Gold Dragon King.

At this mention, Deborah’s mood grew visibly irritated and puzzled.

“Hitherfell the End of Winter... why on earth would she suddenly attack the dragon domains?”

“Does she not realize that even if metal dragons and the Five-colored Dragons are estranged and quarrel among themselves, they are still all dragons? If the Gold Dragon King falls, the overall power and might of the dragon race would be immeasurably weakened.”

Ordinary white dragons might be simple-minded and fail to grasp such reasoning.

But an ancient dragon that could live for millennia—even a White Dragon like Hitherfell reputed for folly—must possess profound wisdom and foresight.

Besides.

Aside from a few extremely chaotic and evil individuals, dragons at the ancient level generally possess rationality and long-term consideration far beyond instinct; they can restrain their desires and impulses well.

Deborah simply could not understand.

What motive drove Hitherfell the End of Winter to attack the dragon domains?

“There may have been malicious instigators, or there might be profound reasons or deals far beyond our current understanding,” Garoth said thoughtfully. “In any case, if the Dragon Legacy’s descriptions of the End of Winter are roughly accurate, then she absolutely could not have attacked the dragon domains on a mere whim.”

“Behind this must lie reasons of weight we don’t yet know.”

The End of Winter in the records was described as patient and crafty, highly adept at manipulating and playing with emotions.

Garoth found the labels of patient and crafty possibly apt — such traits are not necessarily pejorative; in survival and struggle they can even be advantageous.

But the claim that she was “highly adept at manipulating and playing with emotions” left Garoth with a sliver of rational doubt.

The Dragon Legacy was indeed a treasure trove of knowledge.

However, it contained plenty of bias, factional distortions, and deeply ingrained subjective views; many of its entries couldn’t be fully trusted and required rational scrutiny and judgment.

If one looked only at the Legacy’s accounts of the End of Winter’s entanglements with a human spellcaster,

and swapped Hitherfell’s role with that of a metal dragon — say, a Silver Dragon or a Gold Dragon —

that story might have been passed down as a cross-racial, tragic yet romantic tale, rather than read as a cunning, conspiratorial plot.

“In any case, I hope the Gold Dragon King can successfully pass through this twilight ordeal and be reborn.”

Deborah murmured the wish.

If the Gold Dragon King could overcome this greatest threshold, the metal dragon clans would gain a pillarlike figure whose presence would elevate their voice and status across planet Bernardo, and that elevation could, to some extent, improve the living conditions for all dragons, including the Five-colored Dragons.

But.

Across the many planes and worlds known, those who successfully survive an ancient dragon’s fading death tribulation and are reborn are exceedingly rare.

Time slipped by as the two giant dragons conversed and pondered.

Garoth did not wait for the follower legions marching on the ground; instead he flew ahead to the natural barrier between the convergence lands and the Ser Wilderness — the tumultuous, vast Estonian Great River.

Its turbid, icy waters carried floes that roared deafeningly through the steep canyon toward an unknown distance.

“Deborah.”

Garoth hovered above the raging river and spoke to the brass-silver dragon beside him: “You can stop with me here. You may return.”

Deborah stopped as well and gave a reluctant flick of her tail.

“But Garoth, I want to go see the wilderness too.”

Garoth turned his head to look at Deborah.

“The clan is almost pouring out in full force and leaving the convergence lands.”

“The dragons left behind here are only the less powerful Trixie and some hatchlings who need protection; such strength doesn’t put my mind at ease.”

He paused and spoke with extra seriousness: “Deborah.”

“Only with you personally holding the convergence lands, stabilizing the rear with your strength and wisdom,”

the Red Iron Dragon’s voice carried heavy trust, “can I go to the wilderness without worries and open new territories for the tribe.”

“Besides, I am not abandoning the convergence lands entirely.”

“I will return here frequently, to this dragon haven — this is a crucial nest for us.”

Hearing Garoth’s words, especially the profound trust and charge woven into them, Deborah felt the weight of an important mission settle on her shoulders.

So she no longer hesitated.

She lowered her great head decisively, as if making a solemn vow.

“I understand.”

Deborah’s voice was resolute: “I will watch over the convergence lands for you and guard our home!”

Garoth bowed his forehead slightly.

He remembered Brass Dragon Serena’s original request.

The wilderness was more dangerous than the convergence lands, and indeed the convergence lands needed a dragon more reliable than Trixie to hold the post; Deborah was an excellent choice.

“Me! Me too!”

A clear, lively voice suddenly rang out.

The faerie dragon Vira darted out from beneath Deborah’s broad wing membrane, fighting the gale with tiny limbs and waving her claws as she proclaimed loudly, “I can guard the convergence lands too! I’m powerful!”

Garoth lowered his head and fixed his gaze on the tiny faerie dragon that looked especially fragile and wobbling in the furious wind.

A trace of doubt flashed in his eyes.

“You seem to be underestimating me?”

The faerie dragon caught that doubt like a cat whose tail had been stepped on and puffed, offended. Then, as if to display her power, she nimbly flipped a perfect somersault in the air and declared confidently, “Watch closely! Lord Vira’s abilities have grown a lot.”

Before she finished,

her gossamer wings snapped once, and the small body drifted lightly back nearly a hundred meters, riding the gusting wind.

In the next instant, a burst of dazzling, disorienting illusionary light flared.

Then an imposing, majestic, virile giant dragon — bristling with unmatched power and oppressive force — suddenly appeared in the sky.

He wore deep black, heavy scales, calm vertical pupils, and huge wings that seemed capable of tearing the sky.

At the sight, Garoth couldn’t help but emit an involuntary note of admiration.

“Truly imposing, majestic to the hilt!”

This giant dragon was a near-perfect replica of himself.

Form, details, and that natural, suffocating aura of terror — at first glance it was indistinguishable from the real Garoth.

“I am the great Redwing Lord! King of the Molten Iron Tribe — Garoth Ignas!”

The red iron dragon bellowed in a low, authoritative roar that shook the hearts of all things, his voice almost indistinguishable from Garoth’s own.

“Foolish crawlers, you see the true dragon descend and yet do not kneel?!”

With that roar, the red iron dragon spread wings that blotted out the sky, and dazzling golden lightning and black-red furious dragon qi erupted from his body; he seemed to swell another size as dragon might spread like a physical tsunami in all directions!

“Oh? You don’t flee and instead stand here staring at me?”

The red iron dragon sneered theatrically, staring at the real Garoth and Deborah across from him.

“Crawlers, then listen carefully to the death knell I toll for you!”

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The heavy sound, like ancient war drums or a colossal engine’s thunderous heartbeat, emanated vividly from the illusory form.

Then his scales instantly glowed as if searing hot iron, and his surface ignited with clear, interwoven gold-and-red flame lines, as if countless gorgeous, blazing red lotuses had simultaneously erupted across his body, swaying — the dragon becoming more horrific than before, as if poised in the next breath to annihilate everything.

“Even my Crimson Lotus Form is mimicked so lifelike?”

Garoth glanced sideways, unexpecting that the faerie dragon’s illusions could be so convincing.

If a dragon’s perception were less sharp,

even an adult dragon, or some mature dragons not particularly alert, might see this vivid, majestic apparition from afar and be utterly terrified, their first instinct to tuck tail and flee, never daring to advance and test whether it was real.

At the end of the display,

the fearsome giant red-iron dragon illusion collapsed like a bubble and dissipated, revealing the tiny faerie dragon once more.

“Hmph hmph~ This is my greatest, proudest illusion — the ‘Garoth Simulation Technique’!”

Vira lifted her chin in triumph and announced proudly: “I’ve been quietly observing you, Garoth, for a long, long time and memorized every aspect of your form and every shift in your aura. The illusion is absolutely lifelike! Paired with my Phantom Sound Technique to perfectly imitate your voice, it can fully pass as the real thing.”

As a Dreamweaver Sorceress who specialized in illusion, her skill set leaned naturally toward the secretive, elusive, and unfathomable; she excelled at producing mind-bending mirages.

Among all her illusion spells,

this simulation technique — demanding extreme skill and observation — was arguably the most practically valuable core ability.

By long-term, close-range observation of a powerful physical being, understanding its form, movements, and energy characteristics in depth, she could perfectly reproduce it. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

This was not just to instill fear or confuse an enemy.

When the caster’s level was high enough and the observation meticulous, the simulation’s fidelity could reach a critical threshold.

Such an illusion could even partially turn virtual into real, granting the simulated figure a fraction of the original’s true potency and enabling it to deliver temporarily substantive attacks!

Vira’s chosen simulation target had always been, in her eyes, the mightiest — Garoth.

Because of years of close observation and living alongside him, she had ingrained every detail of the red iron dragon into her mind, and the illusion’s fidelity had reached a very high standard.

That meant her Garoth illusion could not only frighten, but also execute a few genuinely threatening assaults.

Garoth did not hold back praise for such exquisite skill: “Vira, with you and Deborah guarding the convergence lands, I can feel more at ease now.”

“Remember to give me shiny gold coins or gems as payment.”

“Otherwise I’ll turn into you and fly around shouting that I’m an idiot, ruining your reputation.”

Saying that, the faerie dragon darted back under Deborah’s wing.

“If trouble comes you can’t solve, notify me immediately.”

“With my speed, I’ll be there to support you in no time.”

Garoth reminded them.

After a brief farewell,

the Redwing Lord did not linger. He beat his enormous wings and his silhouette gradually vanished toward the horizon of the convergence lands’ sky.

He had no intention of waiting for the marching follower legions; instead he decided to go ahead to the Sky Pit Territory in the Ser Wilderness to visit the Iron Dragon Mother he had not seen in decades.