Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

The increasingly brilliant spring light drove away the thin mist, turning the city walls and high towers of the Citadel of Crimson Flame into a myriad of golden scales.

The red iron dragon crouched among the mountains of the Dragonback Mountains, his colossal body casting a vast shadow.

Not long ago, the faerie dragon had slipped away quietly.

Garoth understood and respected her choice, and even admired that streak of cunning and pride that belonged to her. The faint sense of melancholy in his heart had mostly dissipated by the time he returned to the training grounds and felt the hard ground underfoot.

He did not have much time to wallow in parting emotions.

The next dawn, when the first rays of sunlight pierced the clouds, Garoth had already begun a new round of grueling forging.

By now, the red iron dragon had been here three days and nights.

His dragon body was like a mountain, his breathing long and steady. Each exhale carried the scent of blazing flame, instantly vaporizing the morning frost that drifted nearby,

and the whites of his eyes were crisscrossed with veins.

The frenzied flame flickered violently, and the rage surged through his mind.

But Garoth kept his reason and calm.

The muscles at his neck tightened slightly, his claws dug deeply into the rock; these were habitual motions when he fought the frenzied flame.

He let the frenzied flame burn, let the anger rise, until his entire being turned blood-red, his spirit rocked by fury and his vision overlaid with a crimson veil, only then would he draw in a huge breath.

He forced the frenzied flame down inside him, the crimson in his eyes receded like a tide, and a measure of clarity returned.

Then, after waiting for his state to stabilize, he would release control again, letting anger accumulate anew.

Thus the cycle repeated, again and again.

From sunrise to noon, from noon to dusk.

Only the heavy breaths of the great dragon rose and fell here. A few bold rock eagles had circled at a distance, but when they felt the rising pressure they fled in terror.

This was Garoth’s focused training regimen for the week.

To improve his strength more efficiently, Garoth never trained haphazardly without a plan.

He had devised a rigorous cycle plan for himself.

For example, last week he concentrated on refining domains; this week was devoted to controlling rage and raising the Wild Path’s level; next week would focus on honing the Spell-Extinguishing Claws.

Such focused training increased efficiency.

“Rage Without Fear of Death requires the Wild Path to reach level 14,” Garoth mused silently during another interval after suppressing the frenzied flame, feeling the flow of power within him, “and I’m already at level 12.”

Progress was faster than he had expected.

That owed largely to the frenzied flame’s presence.

Although dangerous, it was an excellent catalyst for tempering anger.

Garoth estimated that, at this rate, his Wild Path level might surpass the Star Path.

He did not linger in thought.

After a short rest, the red iron dragon opened his eyes again and the frenzied flame reignited in his gaze.

A new round of training began.

Time passed amid fury and flame.

As the sun slanted westward and painted the clouds in interweaving shades of orange and violet, the temperature at the mountain peak began to fall.

Suddenly.

“Cry—!!!”

A clear, bright cry, full of endless life and blazing pride, ripped the sky, coming from the high firmament.

The sound pierced the clouds, crossed the mountains, and reached Garoth’s ears.

Within the citadel, countless residents looked up, turning toward the direction of the sound and noticing its presence.

Garoth slowly opened his eyes.

The bloodshot tint had not completely faded, but the frenzied flame had been temporarily suppressed.

He lifted his head and looked to the southeastern horizon.

At first it was just a small dot, barely noticeable in the vast sky.

But quickly that speck grew larger, accompanied by an increasingly loud cry and a heat-wind that made the air boil and the horizon warp.

It was a bird, but no ordinary bird.

A long, elegant neck, a magnificent, flowing tail plumage—each feather seemed forged from the purest liquid sunlight and molten gold, edges rimed with a holy, beautiful halo of fire.

Her wings spread, blotting out the sky.

Each beat left a trail of dazzling sparks, like wearing the dawn itself.

A brilliant crest adorned her head, her eyes burning with searing white flame; with every glance she exuded holiness, pride, and nobility.

The phoenix, Anqiya.

To be precise, a legendary phoenix who had stepped into the ranks of the legendary and completed a life ascension.

She flew straight toward the palace and the Dragonback Mountains with such speed that she left a gold-red light trail stretching from the southeastern horizon to the citadel. Wherever she passed, clouds parted and moisture steamed away, as if a flame god were touring his domain.

The people of Aola cried out in awe.

Many set down their tools, bowed, and prayed for good fortune.

Because of her magnificent and sacred appearance, besides a lordly status, the phoenix was regarded as an omen in the Aola Kingdom.

In the blink of an eye, Anqiya had arrived above the red iron dragon.

She did not descend immediately but began to circle.

Her giant wings sliced through the sky with grace; the heated wind they stirred formed vortices that brushed across Garoth’s scales.

Gradually she slowed, stretching her neck and combing her tail feathers with her beak so that sunlight and her own radiance intertwined, emphasizing her splendor.

Finally she alighted lightly a hundred meters in front of the red iron dragon.

Even with wings furled, her graceful form was dazzling.

Her feathers reflected the warm glow of sunset, each feather’s fiery halo flickering like breathing light.

Her stance was dignified and elegant, her long tail hanging and coiling into beautiful curves.

Even Garoth’s staunch heart could not help but feel a flash of astonishment.

He had to admit, Anqiya was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen—bar none.

That beauty transcended species. Even a dragon indifferent to birds and without cross-species aesthetic sensibilities could feel that unparalleled beauty in her.

“My beloved Ignas Majesty.”

“The most beautiful creature in the Aola Kingdom—no, on this whole planet—comes to greet you.”

Anqiya spoke, pride thick in her tone.

After speaking she tilted her head slightly, looking at the red iron dragon with her searing white eyes; her long tail swept the ground and left a scorched mark.

Garoth watched her in silence.

The phoenix’s beauty had indeed reached a new peak; every inch of plumage glowed with gold-red radiance, as if the child of flame had taken on flesh.

When Garoth remained mute, Anqiya’s expression hardened into displeasure. She shifted her talons.

She stepped forward with elegant strides until she was almost before the red iron dragon.

The size difference between them was stark in this moment.

Even strutting proudly, her crest reached only to Garoth’s chest—and that was with him not fully upright.

Yet she showed no fear, instead lifting her head so that her light met the dragon’s bowed gaze.

“Don’t you think I’m now a thousand times more beautiful than the most dazzling gems in the royal vault, or the most splendid clouds at dawn?”

She spread one wing slightly, displaying the swirling light upon it fully to the red iron dragon.

The inner feathers presented a gradient of gold-red, from a deep dark gold at the base to bright orange-red at the tips, like solidified sunset.

Truly beautiful.

Garoth finally spoke.

He lowered his gaze to the phoenix standing within arm’s reach, his own light lingering across her resplendent wings as he said thoughtfully, “Hmm, after ascending to the legendary realm, you have become more beautiful, that’s undeniable.”

“However, I’m more interested in whether your nirvana fire has changed.”

“I’m rather curious about that. Maybe I could study it further.”

At his words, the smile on the phoenix’s beak froze.

The phoenix who had been strutting and nearly bursting to show off her beauty deflated in an instant as if a balloon had been punctured; she visibly wilted.

Her splendid crest drooped, her tail feathers sagged, and her eyes began to flit away.

Her reaction was understandable.

When Anqiya had first joined Garoth’s service, Garoth had enthusiastically dragged her into two months of research, hoping to peer into the secrets of the nirvana fire. After many attempts with no results, he had given up.

For the phoenix it was not a pleasant memory.

Under Garoth’s calm yet oppressive stare, Anqiya took a half-step back, timorous at first.

Then, whether out of reverence for the Dragon Lord or a kind of desperate courage, she straightened her neck and edged closer to Garoth again.

“Come…”

She closed her eyes, wearing an expression of resolve as if facing death.

“Do not mess up my feathers, that is my only request.”

Her posture was like a warrior about to march to the gallows.

Garoth snorted laughter; the dragon’s laugh rolled low like distant thunder.

He shook his head and said, “Forget it, another day. I have other matters to attend.”

He really had lost most of his interest in the nirvana fire.

Earlier research showed that it was an unreplicable racial gift, at least beyond his current ability.

Rather than waste more time, he preferred to focus on developing his own capabilities.

Besides, he had the Dragon Pearl.

If his evolution continued, he could form a godlike technique similar to nirvana that granted multiple revivals, without the restrictions and costs that nirvana imposed.

“Oh, I see!”

Anqiya instantly brightened.

Her eyes lit up again and her crest stood tall, “You don’t want to ruin my beauty, right? After all, a creature this perfect—even a big evil dragon like you—would cherish it.”

Garoth: "."

He stared at the phoenix for two seconds, deciding not to engage.

Arguing aesthetics with a newly legendary phoenix in an extremely narcissistic state was not wise.

As for actually marring her beauty...

To be fair, she was correct; he currently did not want to. But if she prattled on much longer, that might change.

After a few seconds of silence, Garoth switched topics.

“You didn’t come to the citadel just to flaunt your looks. If you have business, state it first.”

Anqiya cocked her head.

“Business?” she said matter-of-factly, “Showing off my beauty and telling you the news of my ascension to the legendary realm—that’s the most important business, isn’t it? What could be more important?”

She paused, then added, “Oh, and there’s a strange matter I thought I should tell you.”

Garoth asked, “What?”

“In my territory recently, a few bird-beasts have appeared that contain dragon bloodlines.”

Anqiya’s tone turned more serious.

“They’re still young, likely just hatched. What puzzles me is that aside from Nasha occasionally visiting my territory, no other dragons live or frequently visit my lands.”

“Could it be that some wild dragons slipped into the Aola Kingdom and left offspring in my territory?”

Garoth lapsed into silence again.

This time his silence lasted longer.

The red iron dragon shifted his gaze from Anqiya to a cliff on his right.

There appeared to be nothing there, only some heat-resistant thornbrush swaying in the hot wind.

Then he slowly turned back and said calmly, “The dragon-blooded bird-beasts you mentioned—do their draconic features lean toward purple? Or are they entirely purple?”

Anqiya blinked, then revealed a look of admiration.

“So you already know?”

she exclaimed, her tail feathers sweeping the ground with pleasure. “As expected of you, Ignas Majesty, all-knowing.”

“Yes, those little ones have purple sheen at the root of their feathers and their eyes are like amethyst.”

Garoth nodded: “Take good care of those dragon-blooded bird-beasts.”

“When they mature, they will become the backbone of the Aola Kingdom.”

He paused, then added: “As for their origin, there is no problem. You don’t need to worry.”

Anqiya relaxed and her crest quivered slightly: “Then I will rest assured and look after them. After all, they were born in my territory and can be considered my subjects.”

She then delightedly preened around Garoth from various angles, showing off her more perfect form and shimmering feathers after breaking through to the legendary rank. She continued for over an hour before finally giving a satisfied cry, unfurling her huge wings and streaking away in a gold-red flash back to her territory.

By then the sun had fully set and night had fallen.

Garoth stood in place for a moment.

He slowly turned his head back toward the right-hand cliff that had seemed empty.

“You’ve been watching long enough. Time to come out.”

On the cliff, the air wavered slightly.

Like ripples over water, a long, immense form gradually emerged from the void.

The Amethyst Dragon, Iseramas.

“Good evening, Garoth,” Iseramas’ voice was gentle and slightly magnetic, carrying the calm composure of an elder. “The moonlight tonight is beautiful, isn’t it?”

The phoenix’s commotion had been loud; the Amethyst Dragon who lived near the citadel naturally noticed. Perhaps out of curiosity or a touch of guilt, he had cloaked his shape with spiritual energy and observed the entire scene from the side.

However, his arrival did not escape Garoth’s sight.

“Iseramas, congratulations.”

Garoth’s voice was low and even, betraying no emotion.

The Amethyst Dragon folded his wings and descended before Garoth, his tone somewhat awkward.

He avoided Garoth’s gaze and pretended to admire the night view as he said, “The weather’s pleasant today. Um, congratulations on your service adding a legendary—especially a powerful creature like a phoenix.”

Garoth fixed his stare on him, a playful expression on his dragon face.

He did not get distracted by Iseramas’ topic and continued: “Among humans there is an expression, ‘growing stronger with age.’”

“I think that phrase suits you well.”

The dragons’ reproductive drive often begins in adulthood and peaks during their prime phase.

Although older dragons can still sire offspring later, success rates drop significantly compared to their prime years, and fertility declines with age.

More importantly, elderly dragons’ energy and interests usually shift to other realms: knowledge, magic, managing territories, or simply sleeping.

That an Amethyst Dragon like Iseramas could still produce offspring in a short time warranted the phrase “growing stronger with age.”

A hush fell over the mountaintop.

Night wind carried scents from distant forests. A few nocturnal birds flew past but changed course in alarm when they sensed the presence of two legendary dragons.

Iseramas’ dragon face twitched slightly.

But he quickly regained composure, straightened his neck, and assumed a serious expression.

“Bearing offspring is not an indecent thing to speak of,” the Amethyst Dragon’s voice grew solemn, “on the contrary, it is the natural process of life, the noble act of bloodline inheritance. As a member of the dragon race, I have the responsibility to contribute to the prosperity of our kind.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully before continuing: “Moreover, I do not act recklessly.”

“The beings I unite with are all magical creatures with excellent affinity for magic. Their descendants will inherit dragon bloodlines and magical talent, becoming bridges between dragons and other species.”

“From this perspective, I am enriching the biodiversity of dragon-blooded creatures.”

“Each dragon-blooded creature that appears strengthens our orthodox dragon influence across the ecosystem. They will spread dragon culture, extend dragon power, and perhaps in the distant future form new sub-branches of dragons.”

“For this I have invested a substantial amount of time.”

Garoth listened quietly without interruption.

When Iseramas finished, the red iron dragon nodded slightly and spoke slowly: “In that case, I should thank you on behalf of our kin for your contribution.”

“Your efforts have indeed expanded dragon influence.”

Iseramas flicked his tail and grinned.

“And I will gladly accept that gratitude,” he said.

Garoth stared at him for two seconds, then looked away.

This old fellow’s brazenness exceeded his expectations.

Still, Garoth didn’t truly care.

As long as Iseramas’ conduct did not break royal law or cause harm, he did not intend to meddle in the Amethyst Dragon’s pastimes.

After all, as Iseramas said, more dragon-blooded beings were beneficial for Aola in the long term.

“Since you’re here, keep me company for a bit of training,” Garoth changed the subject, rapping his claw on the ground, producing a dull thud. “Use your psychic skills to attack me. I need to temper my resistance to mental interference.”

When forging the Wild State and pushing the limits of rage, external mental stimuli often accelerated progress.

As a Mind Sorcerer, the Amethyst Dragon’s skills were powerful and precise—an ideal sparring partner.

“No, I have things to attend to.”

Garoth interrupted: “One gem.”

The old emperor!

Iseramas cursed under his breath, then forced a smile and said, “Fine, then let’s begin.”

Time passed as Garoth continued his methodical training.

New Calendar year 355, Autumn.

Good news arrived along with the harvest.

Aola’s Ranger-General, Elvy, had broken through to the legendary realm.

More importantly, Elvy had also awakened the “Beneath the Dragon Throne” trait.

Garoth could clearly sense an invisible connection forming between himself and the centaur general.

Through this link he could, to a degree, perceive what Elvy saw and heard, and—if she did not resist—use her eyes to view the world, speak through her mouth to convey his will, or manipulate her body.

Combined with the Gluttonous Ogre Karu, who had long since awakened the same trait, Garoth now had two extensions of his will.

This meant that even if he fell into slumber, he could still perceive developments through these two followers, or, when necessary, issue crucial commands through them.

Elvy’s breakthrough also proved an important fact.

Other dragon-blooded followers could also obtain the “Beneath the Dragon Throne” trait.

And this was not a special case unique to Garoth’s retinue.

Garoth carefully searched the legacy records about this trait and made a discovery.

Throughout dragon history, especially in the distant First Age, the most loyal and powerful dragon-blooded followers occasionally awakened similar traits, though under different names.

This was seen as the ultimate manifestation of the bond between dragon lord and follower—a natural extension of dragon authority.

The records noted two key factors for awakening this trait.

One was that the follower themselves must reach the legendary tier; the second was the length of time spent with the dragon lord and the depth of the bond.

Generally, followers who had accompanied a dragon lord for longer had a higher chance of awakening this trait.

This finding made Garoth re-evaluate his followers.

He first thought of Werewolf Russell.

This follower was one of his earliest ‘old retainers.’

Russell’s talent wasn’t among the top compared to followers like Elvy or Karu, but his will was extremely tenacious and his loyalty unwavering.

Therefore, Garoth decided to allocate more resources to Russell’s cultivation.

If Russell broke through to the legendary realm, he would very likely become another extension of Garoth’s will.

Aside from him, Garoth also kept an eye on several other promising followers, including certain lords, though their chances remained slim for now.

That same year, the Romanian Plains stabilized.

The countries began postwar recovery and development; peace arrived.

Except in the Rhen Kingdom.

This realm, which had reaped the most victories in the war, was aflame within. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

The people of annexed territories refused submission; resistance forces spread like wildfire.

The old nobility resented the new king’s centralization, and clandestine factions never ceased.

Years of war had drained the treasury; taxes rose again and again, and the anger of the common folk reached a breaking point.

Rhen’s army ran from crisis to crisis—suppressing an eastern peasant uprising today, fighting noble rebels in the west tomorrow, then northward to clear border guerrillas the day after.

They had won the war but lost the peace.

The king poured nearly all his time into crushing each wave of rebellion; his rule teetered.

Time flowed onward like a river that never returns.

New Calendar year 358, Summer.

“I’m nearly one hundred and forty years old.”

On the dragon court’s watchtower, the red iron dragon gazed at the horizon.

Lately he often felt faint fatigue and drowsiness.

These were signs that his slumber period approached; Garoth had expected this, so he felt no surprise.

He would likely enter true slumber within about three years.

Because his retinue had gained a legendary phoenix and a legendary centaur, and because both Elvy and Karu had awakened the Beneath the Dragon Throne trait—and neither were ordinary legendaries—Garoth felt little worry about the Aola Kingdom after his slumber.

Even without him, Aola would be formidable.

Moreover, if necessary, he could awaken from slumber.

“When I sleep, it will be for decades at least.”

“I should visit the offspring in the Vophal Dragon Domain; they’re hatchlings now.”

Garoth thought.

If he fell asleep before seeing them, by the time he woke, his offspring would at least be young dragons, and that would feel somewhat distant.

He did have hopes for his progeny.

“Deborah, bring the children to the kingdom. They are already strong enough to meet their father.”

Garoth contacted his mate in the distant Vophal Dragon Domain.

Deborah’s smiling voice came through: “As it happens, we’re already on our way.”

She paused and added with some helplessness: “These little rascals are nearly tearing the Vophal Domain apart. It would be better if you, their father, came to discipline them. I lack a bit of authority; I can’t manage them well.”

That rambunctious?

Garoth’s eyes brightened slightly, then his expression turned amused.

“Very well. I’ll await your arrival.”