Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Aola Kingdom, Law City.

Garoth and Beskarl shifted into human form and walked along the clean, orderly streets.

One stood tall and imposing, scarcely human; the other was lean, white-haired, draped in a sparse frame.

This odd pair attracted many glances.

But people typically glanced once and quickly looked away, as if one more stare would violate some invisible rule.

They walked with light, steady steps and kept their voices low while speaking; the whole street was imbued with a quiet atmosphere.

As they strolled, they also observed their surroundings.

“Alberto’s Law City... on the surface it’s tidy and orderly,” Garoth thought quietly.

After leaving Ignas Royal Dragon Academy, he had not gone straight back to the Citadel of Crimson Flame, but detoured to this place.

Gold Dragon Alberto was both the lord of this area and the city’s governor.

This Law City could be considered a direct realization of his ideals.

When Garoth first stepped inside the city limits, he did not feel the usual urban clamor. Instead, he sensed an omnipresent, weighty sense of order.

The streets were wide and straight, as if the most precise ruler had been used to etch them into the ground, running crosswise to split the urban area into almost perfectly equal square blocks. The ground was paved with neatly cut gray-white stone slabs; the seams between slabs were so fine they were almost invisible. The roads were unnaturally clean, free of fallen leaves and debris, and dust stains were rare.

The buildings flanking the roads displayed a unified, minimalist style. Exterior colors were strictly limited to gray, white, and light brown, with no excessive ornamentation or jarring shapes. Window sizes were identical, spacing equal, and even the hanging sunshades were uniformly dark gray.

Visually, the entire city looked extremely tidy, but its monotony felt somewhat oppressive.

Also, because Law City had been established under the rule of a noble Gold Dragon, it had attracted many humans; the residents were primarily human.

They walked the streets with an unconscious regularity in their steps, neither hurried nor slow.

They dressed neatly, faces calm to the point of indifference; their voices were kept very low in conversation—no loud laughter or casual shouting occurred.

Their routes seemed purposeful; few wandered aimlessly, and it was rare to see small groups lingering at corners to chat.

The most conspicuous structures in the city were a series of stern public halls.

Courts, arbitration chambers, law archives, public notice halls... their names were neatly engraved above the doors, in solemn, unadorned type.

Moreover, at regular intervals, a crossroads would appear.

In the center of each intersection stood a tall stone stele.

The steles were covered in densely packed small characters—this area’s Code of Conduct, Traffic Regulations, Sanitation Standards, Dispute-Resolution Procedures, and so on. Passersby would often stop to read the stele with a serious expression, as if it were a daily duty.

“Rule above all, law as the foundation.”

Garoth stopped in front of one stele and quietly read the declaration engraved at the top, then glanced around and couldn’t help frowning slightly.

On the surface the city did appear orderly, but it lacked something more important.

—Vitality.

It did not possess the bustle and vibrant life of a typical emerging city; everything was too neat, too quiet.

“Everyone here knows exactly where they should stand, what they should do, and what they mustn’t do,” Beskarl said softly at his side, a playful smile at his lips. “Heh, maybe even the cadence of their breathing is regulated. This place is convenient—no unexpected trouble—but it’s dull... like a great sheet of ice so frozen solid not even a single fish could swim underneath.”

After speaking, he turned to Garoth and guessed, “Your Majesty, I suppose the ruler of this city must be some extreme lawful Blue Dragon?”

“A style that frames everything to death would fit their view of order.”

Garoth shook his head slightly. “The lord here is not a Blue Dragon.”

Beskarl asked in puzzlement, “Then what dragon? Or some lawful-evil creature?”

Garoth answered briefly, “A Gold Dragon.”

At that, Beskarl’s expression shifted, his eyes widening.

He suddenly recalled the ogres’ exaggerated praise of the Red Iron Dragon Emperor—how, at the founding of the empire, metallic dragons came to congratulate and celebrate... could those absurd stories be true?

A surge of doubt rose in Beskarl’s mind.

It seemed that the things he had dismissed as fabrications might indeed have happened.

This Red Iron Dragon Emperor could not be judged by ordinary standards.

They continued walking and arrived at a fairly open square.

Along the square’s edge, dozens of uniform two-wheeled carts were neatly parked, their bodies etched with simple arcane drive runes.

These were the Law City’s publicly promoted convenient vehicles, rentable for citizens to replace messy private mounts or long walks, intended to ensure “safety and order” for internal city traffic.

Yet at that moment, the atmosphere in one corner of the square was tense.

A dozen ordinary citizens had gathered around a group of law enforcers and a rune-lit detection device.

At the crowd’s center, several private vehicles that looked slightly worn had been singled out.

These private carts varied in style—some had added solar panels, some had expanded storage, and a few even had black oil engines—forming a sharp contrast with the public carts.

A middle-aged craftsman was anxiously explaining to the enforcers:

“Sirs, I live in the outer district; the unified market area is too far away.”

“If I don’t add a black oil engine, I can’t finish my deliveries in time! By the time I reach the market, it’ll be dark—how can I do business? Rest assured, I check and maintain it daily; the engine has never caused problems!”

The leading enforcer was a stern-faced man who read the clauses in his hand in a flat tone.

“According to Article 3, Clause 7 of the Law City’s New Safety and Technical Standards for Personal Transport, your vehicle has been illegally modified and does not meet the new standard, constituting a serious violation.”

“This vehicle has lost its qualification to operate on public roads within Law City and must be brought into compliance immediately or be scrapped.”

“Additionally, you must surrender one silver Aola coin as a fine for the violation.”

Not only the black-oil-powered cart but several other noncompliant private vehicles were stopped and awaiting unified towing.

Discontent rippled through the crowd.

The enforcer cut off all arguments without expression: “The new vehicle regulations are adopted for the supreme considerations of citywide safety and unified management.”

“If you have objections, you may submit a written complaint to the lawmaking department in accordance with procedures, but noisy protests are not permitted here.”

“Otherwise, punitive measures will be applied according to the Public Order Maintenance Ordinance.”

His voice was not loud, but it carried unquestionable authority. The gathered people gradually quieted, though the sense of helplessness and frustration built up and lingered in the air.

Seeing this, Garoth lost interest in further wandering.

He shook his head slightly, stepped back half a pace, and his form vanished silently from the crowd.

Beskarl followed closely, and like a droplet falling into the sea, they were gone in an instant.

Not long after, high above Law City’s skies.

Beneath thick, layered clouds, the true forms of the Red Iron Dragon and the Ancient White Dragon were hidden; their scales shimmered faintly through the vapor, casting pale shadows.

“Alberto, come out.”

Garoth’s voice was not boisterous, yet it pierced the clouds clearly and carried toward the lord’s hall below.

This was a transmission spell, one of the convenient arts he had mastered.

Whoosh—

A golden streak shot up from the city’s highest building and rose straight until it hovered opposite the Red Iron Dragon, where the form of Gold Dragon Alberto appeared.

He was agile in posture; his golden scales gleamed with a bright, solemn sheen in the sunlight. His dragon eyes held expectation and a hint of pride.

A real Gold Dragon...

Beskarl studied him with odd eyes.

Given the look of Law City, it was hard to believe a Gold Dragon governed it.

“Garoth, you’ve come,” Alberto’s tone was light, even elevated. “You should have seen my Law City by now.”

“So? Surprised?”

He puffed out his chest, clearly proud of the city’s state, and looked at the Red Iron Dragon as if awaiting recognition and praise.

Garoth lowered his eyes and once more took in the chessboard-precise city below.

Then he raised his gaze and looked at the Gold Dragon calmly.

“Alberto, your Law City has indeed impressed me.”

Alberto’s golden muzzle curled slightly upward, treating this as the preface to praise.

“The streets are mirrored-clean, buildings uniform, and citizens abide by rules.” Garoth said slowly. “Every dispute seems to have a statute to rely on, a process to follow.”

“It runs like a huge, wound-up machine, each gear moving along preset tracks, no noise, no deviation.”

“In terms of stability and order, it even surpasses many cities governed by kingdoms for centuries.”

A brighter gleam lit Alberto’s eyes; his tail flicked lightly, radiating accomplishment.

“Exactly this, Garoth!”

He said eagerly, “This is the steady order born of reason and rule that I pursue.”

“See, even if I am absent for months, this city will still run by its established laws.”

“The courts will judge by statutes, enforcers will patrol by the book, citizens will follow the rules... governance costs are minimized and order remains eternal.”

“That is what law should be—it leads to lasting peace...”

Garoth lifted a foreclaw in a halting gesture and interrupted the Gold Dragon’s torrent of words.

“You just said the Law City does not need you to operate and that makes you proud, yes?”

He asked.

Alberto froze for a moment and then nodded: “Of course! That means the law is so complete and thorough that it can sustain itself. I am very proud of this.”

Garoth fixed him with a gaze like a calm abyss.

“If the city does not need you, Alberto, then as lord and governor, what is the purpose of your existence? Are you merely ornamentation?”

At these words, the excitement drained from the Gold Dragon’s face.

He opened his mouth but no sound came; he seemed never to have considered the question from that angle. Confusion and conflict flashed across his dragon features as he looked to the Red Iron Dragon.

Garoth continued: “You craft exacting laws that tightly constrain your people in every regard—ultimately for what purpose?”

Under Garoth’s calm but weighty scrutiny, Alberto thought carefully for a moment.

“For order, for long-lasting stability, and for... efficiency. If everything follows the rules, conflicts are reduced, chaos prevented, and the city can be efficient...” His tone was hesitant and slowed.

“Wrong.”

That voice was not harsh, yet it cut decisively and interrupted him.

Garoth said in a low voice: “This, in essence, is the arrogance and the incompetence of a ruler.”

Hearing this, Alberto’s scales tightened, and a puzzled look appeared in his eyes.

“The arrogance is that you cannot trust your people to possess basic judgment, creativity, and self-management.”

Garoth continued, each word clear and steady, “You believe you can control everything, that every matter must follow the trajectory you set to be correct.”

“You regard them as components requiring complete manipulation, not as individuals with minds of their own.”

“And the incompetence is that you cannot steer an organic society full of vitality—one that sometimes experiences friction but continually self-adjusts and progresses. You fear accidents, fear losing control, fear the complex and changing reality.”

“So you chose the laziest path.”

“You use meticulous legal clauses to box everyone into a range you deem safe and controllable, thereby avoiding any trouble or uncertainty.”

Garoth’s voice, though not loud, crashed like thunder in Alberto’s mind.

He stood rooted, golden pupils shrinking slightly.

The Ancient White Dragon beside Garoth added with a teasing tone:

“When I first entered the city, I truly thought it was the work of some extreme, paranoid Blue Dragon... I never expected it to be Gold Dragon governance.”

“Turning a living city into a preserved specimen is usually the handiwork of certain controlling Blue Dragons.”

“As for Gold Dragons... they are often guardians of order, but rarely involved in constructing detailed order—I don’t really understand.”

That remark pricked like a fine needle and lightly pierced Alberto’s heart.

A sting, a convulsion.

The proud look that had been on the Gold Dragon’s face dissolved, replaced by astonishment and bewilderment.

He involuntarily followed Garoth’s gaze and again scrutinized the city below.

The neat streets, the austere buildings, the orderly but silent streams of people... they suddenly seemed to lose their glossy veneer and reveal a drab, monotonous core.

As if a mist had parted, he now saw the citizens’ smiles missing, the enforcers’ rigidity.

“I... I only wanted to create a stable, just, and efficient city...” Alberto’s voice became dry and weaker; the prior bravado had vanished. “I thought strict, detailed laws were the best way to achieve that...”

Garoth looked at him directly, not reproachful, yet holding a kind of insight the dragon could not evade.

“Stability, justice, and efficiency—these goals require more than legal clauses.”

“They require wisdom to balance rules and human nature; courage to accept a degree of unpredictability and trial-and-error; tolerance to allow different voices and ways of life; and continual self-examination, adjustment, and improvement.”

“Law should be a framework to protect fairness and foster growth, not a lock that strangles all vitality.”

“You set hundreds of rules to make the city run like a machine. It may seem perfect, but it loses its most precious thing: the life force—spontaneous creativity and the self-driven will to rise.”

He paused slightly, letting his words sink into the Gold Dragon’s heart.

“Think carefully, Alberto. Think about what I’ve said.”

“When I come next time, I hope to see Law City, under the framework of order, still breathe, still have warmth, and still carry different voices. If not, I will withdraw your authority to govern here.”

With that, Garoth said no more.

He took a last look at the city quieted by its order, then at the Gold Dragon deep in thought with wings drooping slightly, before flapping his wings and turning toward the Citadel of Crimson Flame.

Beskarl spread his wings and followed at once.

He couldn’t help glancing back at the Gold Dragon still hovering amid the clouds and sighed inwardly.

Gold Dragons are famed for their pride and scorn of evil dragons, aren’t they?

This one had been admonished by the Red Iron Dragon Emperor and did not respond angrily; instead, he appeared shaken... incredible.

The Red Iron Dragon Emperor is indeed unfathomable.

Beskarl’s inner submission to him had, without his noticing, grown a little more.

The clouds slowly closed, gradually swallowing their forms.

High above, only Alberto hovered, suspended in the sharp wind, earnestly contemplating Law City’s issues.

On the other side, Garoth took Beskarl back to the Citadel of Crimson Flame.

The palace walls rose like burning bulwarks in the sunlight; the streets inside bustled and teemed with life.

Garoth led Beskarl through the outer city skies to the broad dragon court on the slopes of the Dragonback Mountains.

Iseramas lay curled in a courtyard spot, his amethyst scales reflecting a faint halo in the light.

“Iseramas, this is Beskarl, an Ancient Dragon,” Garoth introduced with a steady voice as he stepped forward.

The Amethyst Dragon raised his head and appraised the Ancient White Dragon carefully.

“Beskarl, this is Iseramas, an Amethyst Dragon,” Garoth continued toward the Ancient White Dragon. “You now both dwell in the Aola Kingdom but know little of this land’s details. You should get to know it together; I suggest you travel in company to familiarize yourselves with the kingdom’s winds and terrain.”

This arrangement carried some of Garoth’s calculations.

If the Ancient Dragon’s allegiance could make the Amethyst Dragon attach more importance to the Aola homeland, that would be positive; conversely, Iseramas’ presence could remind Beskarl not to underestimate the kingdom.

But Garoth knew these were only auxiliary means.

Whether he could truly retain two legendary dragons depended on the nation’s own development and whether he was worthy of their stay.

Gemstone Dragons were not rigid about moral divides among dragons.

Iseramas stretched his forelimbs and rose to his feet.

“Solitary wandering has grown tedious,” the Amethyst Dragon said lightly. “Beskarl, come with me. I know of some interesting things and can show you.”

The Ancient White Dragon tilted his head slightly and looked at Iseramas.

“What interesting things?” he asked.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Iseramas said with a mysterious smile. “Come on, we’ll talk on the way.”

The two legendary dragons opened their wings side by side and ascended in sequence.

Their silhouettes crossed over the capital and gradually shrank into two black dots on the horizon.

Garoth watched them depart, then turned back toward the rear hills of the dragon court and resumed training in the roaring mountain wind.

About a month later, the Aola Kingdom officially announced the allegiance of the legendary ancient dragons.

This quickly drew attention from all sides.

The royal courts of various nations reacted differently, but all treated it as important intelligence.

Especially the Divine Kingdom of Theo.

Their leadership nearly held its breath at the initial news; several generals were summoned overnight for deliberation.

However, when they learned the allied dragon was a White Dragon, the tense atmosphere eased slightly.

Still, their vigilance did not disappear.

Though a White Dragon, it was nevertheless a legendary dragon and not to be underestimated, just not on the scale of an Ancient Red Dragon that required extreme concern.

Time drifted like wind across the wilderness, continually pushing days and shifting situations.

On the surface, nations maintained basic peace and diplomatic courtesies. Trade carried on, envoys traveled as usual.

But in tavern back alleys, border watchposts, and the dossiers of foreign spies, mounting frictions and probes accumulated.

An undercurrent of oppressive tension spread among the nations.

Thus, five years flew by.

In the new calendar year thirty-four, the Red Iron Dragon Emperor celebrated his 120th birthday.

With resources provided by the Aola Kingdom and his own rigorous training, he ascended without long slumber; his life level rose to twenty-one.

For dragons, this level is typically reached only by extremely ancient Gold Dragons over six hundred years old.

Growth beyond the legendary tier grows ever more difficult; ordinary great dragons usually need a century or two to advance one level, so the Red Iron Dragon Emperor’s speed was astonishing.

In that same year, a major event occurred.

The long-subordinate Duchy of Sloane, attached to the Lyon Kingdom, suddenly declared independence.

Almost simultaneously, the legions of the Kingdom of Sax invaded Sloane territory and seized key cities and fortresses.

The Lyon Kingdom belonged to the Lothrian faction, while the Kingdom of Sax was part of the rival Reebos faction.

These two countries shared historical roots but split into mutually hostile regimes, which had fought brutally during the first civil war; the grudges were deep.

After the events, Lyon first issued a severe diplomatic condemnation.

They demanded Sax immediately withdraw its forces, return all sovereignty to the Duchy of Sloane, and execute the rebellious city lord who led the secession.

Sax flatly refused all those demands.

Negotiations quickly broke down, and Lyon did not stop at verbal protest. They audaciously declared war on Sax; fires of conflict flared along the border.

Not only that.

Allied nations watched tensely.

Armies prepared and readied themselves.

A war that could sweep across more kingdoms, including Aola, had thus begun its prelude.